Dear Bitter Amanda,
Boy at work. Look good. Smell nice. Make brain stupid. Drool. Paperwork soaked. What to do?
Tarzanna
Dear Cheeta,
It's a trap. Do not fall for it. Men know that looking good and smelling nice are pretty much the only tricks up their sleeves that we will still fall for. They haven't figured out the rest, like good manners or the long-lost art of being a gentleman. (I can't say I'm worried they'll crack the code on those.)
It's happened to the best of us, sunshine. Laminate your important paperwork and invest in some dry-erase markers. Ignore the boys to the best of your abilities. You'll thank me later.
Solitarily yours,
Bitter Amanda
Thursday, March 27, 2008
Thursday, February 28, 2008
Dear Titanic...
Dear Bitter Amanda,
I know this guy. He's not my ideal, but he's fun enough to hang out with on at least a friendly basis. I have reason to believe he is interested in me, and that if I decide to give the signal, it's possible I'll have something to do on any given weekend. I am at odds as to what to do with this information. He's very intelligent, well versed in many subjects and a decent conversationalist, and I could use a night out, to be perfectly honest. However, as sometimes happens with high intelligence, particularly concerning the male of the species (possibly some function of the less robust Y chromosome?), he does lack certain social skills, such as basic table manners. I worry that his faux pas might be indicative of larger inconsiderate/gross-boy-type issues. I'm not concerned about the rarity of a toilet seat not returned to its proper downright position, or the occasional unwashed dishes in the sink. I'm more worried about combinations of the two, like peeing in the sink because the toilet lid is down. Or peeing on the unwashed dishes in the sink. Far be it for me to change a man's ways (I certainly have no desire to be a female Pygmalion), but I must say this: I will not tolerate sink pee-ers. I draw the line there.
I admit I have no evidence of this creative urination style with regard to the male in question, but it has been my experience that people who mistake coat sleeves for napkins and soup bowls for drinking vessels outside the sanctity of their own home are prone to other, more serious transgressions. He is also what popular culture would deem a "foodie", so, should I deign to give him the time of day, we would likely be spending much time in restaurants. Perhaps schmancy ones. I'm all for intelligent conversation with foodies in schmancy restaurants, but if someone is having difficulty remembering to use a fork, let alone the correct fork, how is one to cope? This is what troubles me.
My question, Bitter Amanda, is this: Am I being too picky or not picky enough? Is it really too much for me to ask that a man have a brain and be aware that manners exist, or have I just been deprived of any available man's attention for so long that my standards have dropped to a point where those previously considered unacceptable weasel their way up to a "well, perhaps if he buys the drinks"? Could the answer be different if he were very attractive? In short, am I lowering the bar, or is it still too high? I just don't know anymore.
Sincerely,
Pole Vaulter
Dear Titanic,
Men are like icebergs. The part you see is in no way an indication of what is under the surface. Sometimes, very rarely, that's a good thing. You may find one of those fabled men who have more to offer a girl than a night out and free drinks. But more often than not, it is bad. Just like the situation you're describing, you can't tell how pig-like a man is until it's too late. You can never be too cautious about this sort of thing.
Sometimes, women do set the bar too high. Women who have seen too many Meg Ryan movies and read too many romance novels. There is absolutely nothing wrong with standards (this keeps us from dating sink pee-ers), but sometimes you need to step back and ask if they are realistic. If you only want a man who has a Pulitzer Prize, then perhaps you need to widen the horizons. Strictly into Olympic gold medalists? A nice idea, but there aren't very many of them, statistically speaking. But a man with good manners? That is certainly not unheard of! (Well...)
Nothing wrong with hanging out with the guy you talk about, but don't stop looking for a man who does the dishes in the sink, does his business in the toilet, and puts the lid down when he's at your place. (Note: if you are this man, email me. Who knows? Maybe I can do some match-making.)
Solitarily yours,
Bitter Amanda
I know this guy. He's not my ideal, but he's fun enough to hang out with on at least a friendly basis. I have reason to believe he is interested in me, and that if I decide to give the signal, it's possible I'll have something to do on any given weekend. I am at odds as to what to do with this information. He's very intelligent, well versed in many subjects and a decent conversationalist, and I could use a night out, to be perfectly honest. However, as sometimes happens with high intelligence, particularly concerning the male of the species (possibly some function of the less robust Y chromosome?), he does lack certain social skills, such as basic table manners. I worry that his faux pas might be indicative of larger inconsiderate/gross-boy-type issues. I'm not concerned about the rarity of a toilet seat not returned to its proper downright position, or the occasional unwashed dishes in the sink. I'm more worried about combinations of the two, like peeing in the sink because the toilet lid is down. Or peeing on the unwashed dishes in the sink. Far be it for me to change a man's ways (I certainly have no desire to be a female Pygmalion), but I must say this: I will not tolerate sink pee-ers. I draw the line there.
I admit I have no evidence of this creative urination style with regard to the male in question, but it has been my experience that people who mistake coat sleeves for napkins and soup bowls for drinking vessels outside the sanctity of their own home are prone to other, more serious transgressions. He is also what popular culture would deem a "foodie", so, should I deign to give him the time of day, we would likely be spending much time in restaurants. Perhaps schmancy ones. I'm all for intelligent conversation with foodies in schmancy restaurants, but if someone is having difficulty remembering to use a fork, let alone the correct fork, how is one to cope? This is what troubles me.
My question, Bitter Amanda, is this: Am I being too picky or not picky enough? Is it really too much for me to ask that a man have a brain and be aware that manners exist, or have I just been deprived of any available man's attention for so long that my standards have dropped to a point where those previously considered unacceptable weasel their way up to a "well, perhaps if he buys the drinks"? Could the answer be different if he were very attractive? In short, am I lowering the bar, or is it still too high? I just don't know anymore.
Sincerely,
Pole Vaulter
Dear Titanic,
Men are like icebergs. The part you see is in no way an indication of what is under the surface. Sometimes, very rarely, that's a good thing. You may find one of those fabled men who have more to offer a girl than a night out and free drinks. But more often than not, it is bad. Just like the situation you're describing, you can't tell how pig-like a man is until it's too late. You can never be too cautious about this sort of thing.
Sometimes, women do set the bar too high. Women who have seen too many Meg Ryan movies and read too many romance novels. There is absolutely nothing wrong with standards (this keeps us from dating sink pee-ers), but sometimes you need to step back and ask if they are realistic. If you only want a man who has a Pulitzer Prize, then perhaps you need to widen the horizons. Strictly into Olympic gold medalists? A nice idea, but there aren't very many of them, statistically speaking. But a man with good manners? That is certainly not unheard of! (Well...)
Nothing wrong with hanging out with the guy you talk about, but don't stop looking for a man who does the dishes in the sink, does his business in the toilet, and puts the lid down when he's at your place. (Note: if you are this man, email me. Who knows? Maybe I can do some match-making.)
Solitarily yours,
Bitter Amanda
Saturday, February 23, 2008
Dear Princess Leia...
Dear Bitter Amanda,
Considering your vast knowledge of the human condition, I am hoping you can assist me. I find myself at an age where many of my friends are getting married. These weddings are usually full of women I do not know, and would like to dance with. But they are often dancing with their friends in a big group. How do I know when I can approach one of them and get a dance? What signs should I be looking for? Is there some sort of code I am unaware of? Please help me, Bitter Amanda. Much like Obi-Wan Kenobi for this generation, you are my only hope.
Thanks,
Single Dude
Dear Princess Leia,
You flatter me. Really. Too kind. All that bullshit. I’m sure you intended to, thinking I might help you. And you’re correct—but you’ve also left me confused. I mean, obviously you know some things about women. And yet your letter would suggest otherwise. You’re looking for signs? A code? News flash, champ. It’s right in front of your face. Of course there are signals! If a woman is dancing with a group of women, she’s probably willing to dance with just one person. Imagine, if you will, a group of [straight] men dancing with each other while all the women stand off to the side of the dance floor. Isn’t that sad? Don’t you want to go up to those women and shove them in the direction of men? That’s kind of how women feel when they’re dancing in a group. Don’t get me wrong—they’re having a good time. But when we see you standing around on the edge of the floor, looking around and bobbing your heads, we just want to shake you like a bad mother with her screaming child. Stop worrying about rejection, grow some balls, and just ask one of them to dance! If you’re not creepy or rude, the odds are heavily in your favor! We just respect you asking—really. That’s the big secret. You have to ask. Sound like something you can do, champ? Should we review?
-Don’t be creepy.
-Don’t be an asshole.
-Don’t be a creepy asshole.
-ASK.
Give that a try.
Solitarily yours,
Bitter Amanda
Considering your vast knowledge of the human condition, I am hoping you can assist me. I find myself at an age where many of my friends are getting married. These weddings are usually full of women I do not know, and would like to dance with. But they are often dancing with their friends in a big group. How do I know when I can approach one of them and get a dance? What signs should I be looking for? Is there some sort of code I am unaware of? Please help me, Bitter Amanda. Much like Obi-Wan Kenobi for this generation, you are my only hope.
Thanks,
Single Dude
Dear Princess Leia,
You flatter me. Really. Too kind. All that bullshit. I’m sure you intended to, thinking I might help you. And you’re correct—but you’ve also left me confused. I mean, obviously you know some things about women. And yet your letter would suggest otherwise. You’re looking for signs? A code? News flash, champ. It’s right in front of your face. Of course there are signals! If a woman is dancing with a group of women, she’s probably willing to dance with just one person. Imagine, if you will, a group of [straight] men dancing with each other while all the women stand off to the side of the dance floor. Isn’t that sad? Don’t you want to go up to those women and shove them in the direction of men? That’s kind of how women feel when they’re dancing in a group. Don’t get me wrong—they’re having a good time. But when we see you standing around on the edge of the floor, looking around and bobbing your heads, we just want to shake you like a bad mother with her screaming child. Stop worrying about rejection, grow some balls, and just ask one of them to dance! If you’re not creepy or rude, the odds are heavily in your favor! We just respect you asking—really. That’s the big secret. You have to ask. Sound like something you can do, champ? Should we review?
-Don’t be creepy.
-Don’t be an asshole.
-Don’t be a creepy asshole.
-ASK.
Give that a try.
Solitarily yours,
Bitter Amanda
Thursday, February 14, 2008
Monday, February 11, 2008
Dear Genius...
Bitter Amanda,
I was having trouble getting work done today. I needed some motivation. And I realized what the best motivation EVER would be: a sex kitten. Someone who would reward me with sexual favors when I was productive and got shit done. Not someone to have a relationship with, just a cute piece of ass who is strong-willed and won't put out until all the work is done.
Where can I find one of these?
~Seeking Motivation
Dear Genius,
Holy damn is that a good idea. (And you know I hate to admit other people are smarter than me!)
I mean, it sounds a bit like prostitution at first glance. In the Julia Roberts Pretty Woman sort of way. But I don't think your average whore works the way you've described. So it's really more like a friends-with-benefits thing.
Since there are no matchmaking services for this sort of thing...(Colleges and universities everywhere should have postings like this, similar to a ride board. (HA!) Pairing you up with other like-minded, strong-willed individuals. You'd monitor each other's progress and stay on track.) I suggest you ask around. Perhaps you have some friends you wouldn't mind sleeping with?
See what you can do, and keep me posted. I love to hear about non-relationships!
Solitarily yours,
Bitter Amanda
I was having trouble getting work done today. I needed some motivation. And I realized what the best motivation EVER would be: a sex kitten. Someone who would reward me with sexual favors when I was productive and got shit done. Not someone to have a relationship with, just a cute piece of ass who is strong-willed and won't put out until all the work is done.
Where can I find one of these?
~Seeking Motivation
Dear Genius,
Holy damn is that a good idea. (And you know I hate to admit other people are smarter than me!)
I mean, it sounds a bit like prostitution at first glance. In the Julia Roberts Pretty Woman sort of way. But I don't think your average whore works the way you've described. So it's really more like a friends-with-benefits thing.
Since there are no matchmaking services for this sort of thing...(Colleges and universities everywhere should have postings like this, similar to a ride board. (HA!) Pairing you up with other like-minded, strong-willed individuals. You'd monitor each other's progress and stay on track.) I suggest you ask around. Perhaps you have some friends you wouldn't mind sleeping with?
See what you can do, and keep me posted. I love to hear about non-relationships!
Solitarily yours,
Bitter Amanda
Sunday, January 13, 2008
Dear Lifetime Movie...
Dearest Bitter Amanda,
So, this guy I know asked me out over email (he didn't have my number.) And I was on the fence about it, he seems like a nice guy but not really my type. So I decided: go out with him once, if it's awkward then it ends there, if not then maybe I have a shot of finally getting laid. Well, our schedules were completely opposite, we never got a chance to go out, so we continued with small talk over email. Well, the last email I got from him casually mentioned the following:
"I am moving out of my wonderful new place because my roommate had a psychotic episode and tried to choke me and shoot me so I will be busy next weekend moving. I am never doing the roommate thing again. Time to find a new place. Anyhow..."
Umm, how am I supposed to react to that? I've only met him twice in person, we haven't been emailing each other for that long, and AWKWARD!! I mean, I'm glad he survived his ordeal, and I would have understood if it was worded more like "I had the scariest weekend ever..." but he talks about it like it's the weather. How am I supposed to respond? Now I think he's weird for reacting so casually to the entire episode, and who wants to date a weirdo? But I also desperately need to get laid. What's a horny girl to do?
Signed,
Confused and Celibate (but not by choice)
(PS. When I saw him in person before he asked me out he was talking about his "wonderful new place", and it was almost like he was waiting for me to go "hey, you should invite me over sometime so I can see it." Glad I didn't take the bait on that one.)
Dear Lifetime Movie,
I don't have very many good things to say about men, but I will go out on a limb and give them this one: they never cease to amaze. Their illogical and head-scratching behavior really keeps the mystery alive, at the very least. I suspect that with his roommate sob story, he was going for sympathy and wanted your maternal instincts to kick in so you'd fawn all over him. (Typical.) And he's trying to appear manly and strong by passing it off as a very casual near-death experience. (Again, typical.)
Regarding his date invite, you sound pretty apathetic towards him. (You didn't even give him your number!) And horny or not, you don't want to be apathetic towards a boyfriend. Quite frankly, they are too irritating and too much work to only feel "ehhh."
You have to worry about a guy who can't recognize a batshit-crazy roommate when he has one. I'm not saying this guy is batshit-crazy, but you probs want to sleep with a better judge of character.
Solitarily yours,
Bitter Amanda
So, this guy I know asked me out over email (he didn't have my number.) And I was on the fence about it, he seems like a nice guy but not really my type. So I decided: go out with him once, if it's awkward then it ends there, if not then maybe I have a shot of finally getting laid. Well, our schedules were completely opposite, we never got a chance to go out, so we continued with small talk over email. Well, the last email I got from him casually mentioned the following:
"I am moving out of my wonderful new place because my roommate had a psychotic episode and tried to choke me and shoot me so I will be busy next weekend moving. I am never doing the roommate thing again. Time to find a new place. Anyhow..."
Umm, how am I supposed to react to that? I've only met him twice in person, we haven't been emailing each other for that long, and AWKWARD!! I mean, I'm glad he survived his ordeal, and I would have understood if it was worded more like "I had the scariest weekend ever..." but he talks about it like it's the weather. How am I supposed to respond? Now I think he's weird for reacting so casually to the entire episode, and who wants to date a weirdo? But I also desperately need to get laid. What's a horny girl to do?
Signed,
Confused and Celibate (but not by choice)
(PS. When I saw him in person before he asked me out he was talking about his "wonderful new place", and it was almost like he was waiting for me to go "hey, you should invite me over sometime so I can see it." Glad I didn't take the bait on that one.)
Dear Lifetime Movie,
I don't have very many good things to say about men, but I will go out on a limb and give them this one: they never cease to amaze. Their illogical and head-scratching behavior really keeps the mystery alive, at the very least. I suspect that with his roommate sob story, he was going for sympathy and wanted your maternal instincts to kick in so you'd fawn all over him. (Typical.) And he's trying to appear manly and strong by passing it off as a very casual near-death experience. (Again, typical.)
Regarding his date invite, you sound pretty apathetic towards him. (You didn't even give him your number!) And horny or not, you don't want to be apathetic towards a boyfriend. Quite frankly, they are too irritating and too much work to only feel "ehhh."
You have to worry about a guy who can't recognize a batshit-crazy roommate when he has one. I'm not saying this guy is batshit-crazy, but you probs want to sleep with a better judge of character.
Solitarily yours,
Bitter Amanda
Monday, December 24, 2007
Three Sizes Too Small.
I recently hung out with my holiday hero! Together, we were mean and discussed our smaller-than-average, cold, bitter hearts. It was a good time.
Happy Holidays!
Monday, November 19, 2007
Dear Restraining Order...
Dear Bitter Amanda,
Recent life experiences have left me with a bitterness so intense, I can taste it like yesterday's hot dog. I crave something sweeter. Like revenge. Do you have any guidelines or tips on getting even?
Best Served Cold,
Gazpacho
Dear Restraining Order,
Ahh, hell hath no fury. It warms my cold, grey heart. I can only assume you're speaking of relationship-related scorn.
(If I'm wrong, email me again and I'll get back to you. But I'd strongly advise against using the word "wrong.")
Let's see what we can do for you, sunshine.
Try to turn your problem into an amusing anecdote. ("My boyfriend broke up with me by bringing me a present! I guess they just didn't have a greeting card with the appropriate sentiment?") Yours won't be as amusing as mine, but keep that chin up. In time it will improve. (Maybe. No guarantees. You might be one of those bad storytellers.) That way you can throw it around wherever you go, which is a subtle (and quite frankly, classy) way of bringing someone down. Making him the butt of every joke lets the whole world know that he was the butt of your relationship.
There are always the tried and true standards. The Chanel suit of revenge, these tactics just don't go out of style. Making sure that any girl he gets close to knows about his unadvertised traits is a good way to ensure that he is alone. ("God, I'm so glad we're through! I don't know how many more Friday night Lord of the Rings marathons I could have taken!") While you're at it, become friends with the new ladies so that he is in a constant state of AWKWARD.
Now...there are other ways to get your revenge, but it has been advised that I not endorse any of them. So you're going to have to use your imagination. *cough*spread rumors*cough* Excuse me. Rely on your bitter instinct here. *cough*syphilis is unattractive*cough* Damn, I'll have to have that cough checked out.
Hope that satisfies your craving.
Solitarily yours,
Bitter Amanda
PS- As for guidelines, I believe there is a phrase in the popular vernacular that sums it up. Go big or go home.
Recent life experiences have left me with a bitterness so intense, I can taste it like yesterday's hot dog. I crave something sweeter. Like revenge. Do you have any guidelines or tips on getting even?
Best Served Cold,
Gazpacho
Dear Restraining Order,
Ahh, hell hath no fury. It warms my cold, grey heart. I can only assume you're speaking of relationship-related scorn.
(If I'm wrong, email me again and I'll get back to you. But I'd strongly advise against using the word "wrong.")
Let's see what we can do for you, sunshine.
Try to turn your problem into an amusing anecdote. ("My boyfriend broke up with me by bringing me a present! I guess they just didn't have a greeting card with the appropriate sentiment?") Yours won't be as amusing as mine, but keep that chin up. In time it will improve. (Maybe. No guarantees. You might be one of those bad storytellers.) That way you can throw it around wherever you go, which is a subtle (and quite frankly, classy) way of bringing someone down. Making him the butt of every joke lets the whole world know that he was the butt of your relationship.
There are always the tried and true standards. The Chanel suit of revenge, these tactics just don't go out of style. Making sure that any girl he gets close to knows about his unadvertised traits is a good way to ensure that he is alone. ("God, I'm so glad we're through! I don't know how many more Friday night Lord of the Rings marathons I could have taken!") While you're at it, become friends with the new ladies so that he is in a constant state of AWKWARD.
Now...there are other ways to get your revenge, but it has been advised that I not endorse any of them. So you're going to have to use your imagination. *cough*spread rumors*cough* Excuse me. Rely on your bitter instinct here. *cough*syphilis is unattractive*cough* Damn, I'll have to have that cough checked out.
Hope that satisfies your craving.
Solitarily yours,
Bitter Amanda
PS- As for guidelines, I believe there is a phrase in the popular vernacular that sums it up. Go big or go home.
Sunday, November 18, 2007
Dear Awkward Button...
Ok. So after a company shindig, there was still a keg of beer left. So whats a group of twenty-somethings to do besides take it back to a coworkers house and kill it by playing some beer pong? Well, the socially awkward kid who we work with... gave me a peck on the cheek... when I went to leave. I've worked with him for years and have barely spoken to him. I don't think I've ever touched him, even a simple handshake.
What does it mean? Was it just a friendly but drunken good bye? Was he trying to make out with me and missed my mouth? Was he trying to get into my pants? I'd be ok with that, no ones tried to get into my pants for a while. Except for me, but they're my pants. If I don't get into them every morning, I can't go to work. So thats no fun. And does that mean my standards have dropped dangerously low? Am I just overthinking this way to much?
~Need to get laid, and soon
Dear Awkward Button,
Wow. That must have sucked for you. Since he's a boy, and an awkward one at that, there's no way of figuring out what his goal was. Not to mention, you didn't give me nearly enough information. I mean, what line of work are we talking about? Is awkward unusual? Are you more on the friendly-to-everyone flight attendant end of the spectrum, or more on the engineers-who-don't-know-how-to-have-regular-conversations end? Was he ignoring you all night and then randomly kissed you? Or was it something he was probably working himself up to? Was he kissing everyone? Or were you the target?
See what I mean? Not enough info.
Based on your minimal (and yes, disappointing) description, I'd just chalk it up to him getting somewhat plastered and finding the courage to not be awkward. You probably could have tried to turn it into something else, since he's a boy and they don't strike me as very picky regarding action.
And yeah, you're definitely overthinking it.
Solitarily yours,
Bitter Amanda
What does it mean? Was it just a friendly but drunken good bye? Was he trying to make out with me and missed my mouth? Was he trying to get into my pants? I'd be ok with that, no ones tried to get into my pants for a while. Except for me, but they're my pants. If I don't get into them every morning, I can't go to work. So thats no fun. And does that mean my standards have dropped dangerously low? Am I just overthinking this way to much?
~Need to get laid, and soon
Dear Awkward Button,
Wow. That must have sucked for you. Since he's a boy, and an awkward one at that, there's no way of figuring out what his goal was. Not to mention, you didn't give me nearly enough information. I mean, what line of work are we talking about? Is awkward unusual? Are you more on the friendly-to-everyone flight attendant end of the spectrum, or more on the engineers-who-don't-know-how-to-have-regular-conversations end? Was he ignoring you all night and then randomly kissed you? Or was it something he was probably working himself up to? Was he kissing everyone? Or were you the target?
See what I mean? Not enough info.
Based on your minimal (and yes, disappointing) description, I'd just chalk it up to him getting somewhat plastered and finding the courage to not be awkward. You probably could have tried to turn it into something else, since he's a boy and they don't strike me as very picky regarding action.
And yeah, you're definitely overthinking it.
Solitarily yours,
Bitter Amanda
Thursday, November 08, 2007
Dear Mrs. Fields...
Ok. So I ordered some Chinese food to be delivered to my house. Because I'm single and lonely and have no one to take me out to dinner. And the fortune cookie that came along with my meal said "This is a wonderful time in your life to look inward for answers." And its one of those fancy fortunes, which has a Chinese word on the back.
Nan pun yau. Boyfriend.
Umm, is it just me, or did the fortune cookie tell me to look inside my life, to figure out why I don't have a boyfriend? Go fuck yourself fortune cookie!! I don't need your 'advice'! Go shove your nan pun yau up your kung pao szechuan ass!
Signed,
Setting my fortune on fire
Dear Mrs. Fields,
It's a cookie. You're looking at this all wrong. (Thank God you people have me.) Eating with a boy is often a contact sport. If they're really hungry, it's like that hippo game that kids play--get your hands out of the way! Guard what you really want to eat, and kiss any leftovers goodbye. To a boy, "leftovers" are simply food that you left on your plate for him to eat. You got to eat in your pajamas if you felt like it, and you could put anything on the television. And if Chinese food makes you gassy? No matter! Nobody to censor yourself in front of! (Not that boys feel the same need to leave some aspects of life private. Since they are gross.)
Moral of the story, eat the second fortune cookie and ignore the first one. Your single life rocks.
And seriously, calm the hell down. It's a cookie.
Solitarily yours,
Bitter Amanda
Nan pun yau. Boyfriend.
Umm, is it just me, or did the fortune cookie tell me to look inside my life, to figure out why I don't have a boyfriend? Go fuck yourself fortune cookie!! I don't need your 'advice'! Go shove your nan pun yau up your kung pao szechuan ass!
Signed,
Setting my fortune on fire
Dear Mrs. Fields,
It's a cookie. You're looking at this all wrong. (Thank God you people have me.) Eating with a boy is often a contact sport. If they're really hungry, it's like that hippo game that kids play--get your hands out of the way! Guard what you really want to eat, and kiss any leftovers goodbye. To a boy, "leftovers" are simply food that you left on your plate for him to eat. You got to eat in your pajamas if you felt like it, and you could put anything on the television. And if Chinese food makes you gassy? No matter! Nobody to censor yourself in front of! (Not that boys feel the same need to leave some aspects of life private. Since they are gross.)
Moral of the story, eat the second fortune cookie and ignore the first one. Your single life rocks.
And seriously, calm the hell down. It's a cookie.
Solitarily yours,
Bitter Amanda
Saturday, October 27, 2007
Dear Keep Your Damn Pants On...
Dear Bitter Amanda:
Are you *really* that busy? Or are you suffering from a dearth of questions? I'm sure there are *some* poor saps out there that need your advice.
I need my fix, dammit!
Impatience McGee
Dear Keep Your Damn Pants On,
Oh, calm the hell down! Go find a hobby or something.
Solitarily yours,
Bitter Amanda
PS: Am still deciding how I feel about being compared to an addictive substance. Is Bitter Amanda the new crack? Thanks, I think. *ba
Are you *really* that busy? Or are you suffering from a dearth of questions? I'm sure there are *some* poor saps out there that need your advice.
I need my fix, dammit!
Impatience McGee
Dear Keep Your Damn Pants On,
Oh, calm the hell down! Go find a hobby or something.
Solitarily yours,
Bitter Amanda
PS: Am still deciding how I feel about being compared to an addictive substance. Is Bitter Amanda the new crack? Thanks, I think. *ba
Thursday, October 04, 2007
A note.
Why haven't I been berating any of you lately? Reality television and dating guides, my hopeless friends. Check it out and I'll see you in a week!
[For the 2nd Annual KDB Melanoma Walk...go read the link above for more information!]
Try not to disgust anyone while I'm gone--PDA kids, I'm looking at you.
[For the 2nd Annual KDB Melanoma Walk...go read the link above for more information!]
Try not to disgust anyone while I'm gone--PDA kids, I'm looking at you.
Sunday, September 23, 2007
Dear Julius...
Dear Bitter Amanda,
I was at a party and a guy who has been interested in me was there. He told me he was going and was excited he would see me there. I went with some friends and everything seemed to be going fine but he just kept avoiding me! I left because I thought this party was lame and I found out later that he went off dancing with the friend I showed up with! I talked to him about it and told him I was mad. He kept apologizing but I just cant shake the feeling he's using me. I also talked to my friend and she said she didn't see what was wrong with it when she knew I had feelings for him! How do I act and am I overreacting?
Betrayed By the Best
Dear Julius,
Alright, I have several points to make here, so stay close. First of all, you're not overreacting. I'm about to give you some of the most basic advice out there, courtesy of my mother. Ready?
Trust your instincts.
It doesn't always make sense, but you get that feeling for a reason. If your gut tells you he's bad news, then princess, you should listen. It's smarter than you think it is.
Second of all, boys are LAME. They consistently behave in ways that boggle the mind. They claim to be simple creatures; easy to figure out. This may be true, but first you have to put yourself in this ridiculous mindset of mixed signals and illogical moves. For example, you're a dude and you're into a girl. You see her at a party. What should you do? Ohhh, talk to her. Hang out near her. Acknowledge her general presence. And if he's really into you, he'll figure that out. Bu if he can't come up to you and hang out after being "so excited to see you," then maybe you're too good for him and should set your sights higher. Because, I repeat, boys are lame.
THIRD. Ladies, this is just ridiculous. You can't dance with your BFF's mancandy. I know, I know--"we're just friends and it didn't mean anything!" But it LOOKS like it means something, and you KNOW that. We've all been on both sides of that. And it sucks. We are better than that kind of treatment! I am so tired of seeing women treat their friends like crap at the first sign of testosterone in the area. So remember this: even if you know it doesn't mean anything, your friend might not. And nobody wants to be labeled the bitchy friend--dance with too many of your girls' crushes and that's what you'll get.
So princess, what should you do? Talk to your friend. Tell her how you felt, and if she doesn't try to understand, then you totally have my permission to spread the word that she's the bitchy friend. The guy is another story. It sounds like he has to grow up. (Like most of the male gender.) If he's really into you, he'll man up and make some time for you.
Solitarily yours,
Bitter Amanda
I was at a party and a guy who has been interested in me was there. He told me he was going and was excited he would see me there. I went with some friends and everything seemed to be going fine but he just kept avoiding me! I left because I thought this party was lame and I found out later that he went off dancing with the friend I showed up with! I talked to him about it and told him I was mad. He kept apologizing but I just cant shake the feeling he's using me. I also talked to my friend and she said she didn't see what was wrong with it when she knew I had feelings for him! How do I act and am I overreacting?
Betrayed By the Best
Dear Julius,
Alright, I have several points to make here, so stay close. First of all, you're not overreacting. I'm about to give you some of the most basic advice out there, courtesy of my mother. Ready?
Trust your instincts.
It doesn't always make sense, but you get that feeling for a reason. If your gut tells you he's bad news, then princess, you should listen. It's smarter than you think it is.
Second of all, boys are LAME. They consistently behave in ways that boggle the mind. They claim to be simple creatures; easy to figure out. This may be true, but first you have to put yourself in this ridiculous mindset of mixed signals and illogical moves. For example, you're a dude and you're into a girl. You see her at a party. What should you do? Ohhh, talk to her. Hang out near her. Acknowledge her general presence. And if he's really into you, he'll figure that out. Bu if he can't come up to you and hang out after being "so excited to see you," then maybe you're too good for him and should set your sights higher. Because, I repeat, boys are lame.
THIRD. Ladies, this is just ridiculous. You can't dance with your BFF's mancandy. I know, I know--"we're just friends and it didn't mean anything!" But it LOOKS like it means something, and you KNOW that. We've all been on both sides of that. And it sucks. We are better than that kind of treatment! I am so tired of seeing women treat their friends like crap at the first sign of testosterone in the area. So remember this: even if you know it doesn't mean anything, your friend might not. And nobody wants to be labeled the bitchy friend--dance with too many of your girls' crushes and that's what you'll get.
So princess, what should you do? Talk to your friend. Tell her how you felt, and if she doesn't try to understand, then you totally have my permission to spread the word that she's the bitchy friend. The guy is another story. It sounds like he has to grow up. (Like most of the male gender.) If he's really into you, he'll man up and make some time for you.
Solitarily yours,
Bitter Amanda
Thursday, September 20, 2007
Dear Babysitter...
Dear Bitter Amanda,
What is the proper response to a man-child that asks for your number before he asks for your name?
-Digits
Dear Babysitter,
Well clearly your best course of action is to make him feel like the drooling, grunting caveman that he is. Allow me to model a conversation for you. Please note that depending on his level of evolution, he may or may not get that you're calling him a moron. Even if he doesn't, though, it'll hit him later as he relays it to friends, perplexed.
The Missing Link: "Can I have your number? *grunt*"
Your Royal Hotness: "Hi, I'm *insert name here*."
TML: "Huhhh?"
YRH: "Nice to meet you."
TML: "Whaaa? Number? No?"
You see what I did there? You play out the conversation as though he'd properly introduced himself first. In doing so, it's thrown him off his course, because he didn't hear any numbers. Then you can give him a phone number--check out this page. It's called The Rejection Hotline, and it's a real number you can give someone, but it leads them to a recording about how they just got hardcore turned down. I've never used it, but it sounds like good fun!
Best of luck, buttercup.
Solitarily yours,
Bitter Amanda
What is the proper response to a man-child that asks for your number before he asks for your name?
-Digits
Dear Babysitter,
Well clearly your best course of action is to make him feel like the drooling, grunting caveman that he is. Allow me to model a conversation for you. Please note that depending on his level of evolution, he may or may not get that you're calling him a moron. Even if he doesn't, though, it'll hit him later as he relays it to friends, perplexed.
The Missing Link: "Can I have your number? *grunt*"
Your Royal Hotness: "Hi, I'm *insert name here*."
TML: "Huhhh?"
YRH: "Nice to meet you."
TML: "Whaaa? Number? No?"
You see what I did there? You play out the conversation as though he'd properly introduced himself first. In doing so, it's thrown him off his course, because he didn't hear any numbers. Then you can give him a phone number--check out this page. It's called The Rejection Hotline, and it's a real number you can give someone, but it leads them to a recording about how they just got hardcore turned down. I've never used it, but it sounds like good fun!
Best of luck, buttercup.
Solitarily yours,
Bitter Amanda
Thursday, September 06, 2007
Dear HUGE MISTAKE...
Dear Bitter Amanda,
I am in grave danger of engaging in PDA. HELP!!
-Terribly Tempted
Dear HUGE MISTAKE,
Nooooooooooo!!!!!!!!!!!! STEP AWAY FROM THE OTHER PERSON! Just say no! Unless you are getting married and the PDA you're referring to is a kiss at the altar, there is absolutely no excuse for PDA.
SYPHILIS!
Get out of there, Eve.
Solitarily yours,
Bitter Amanda
I am in grave danger of engaging in PDA. HELP!!
-Terribly Tempted
Dear HUGE MISTAKE,
Nooooooooooo!!!!!!!!!!!! STEP AWAY FROM THE OTHER PERSON! Just say no! Unless you are getting married and the PDA you're referring to is a kiss at the altar, there is absolutely no excuse for PDA.
SYPHILIS!
Get out of there, Eve.
Solitarily yours,
Bitter Amanda
Tuesday, September 04, 2007
Dear Clarabelle...
Dear Bitter Amanda--
While struggling to engage my dearest in a game of footsie, I started to wonder why boys always make the girl do all the work. It seems more often than not they sit there like disinterested cows while the girl struggles to charm the pants off the boy in question with her flirtations and feminine wiles. After a few days/weeks/months of batting your freaking eyelashes to an ignorant bovine stare, you start feeling like a whore. What gives? And what can be done?
50 Winks and No Bed
Dear Clarabelle,
What gives, you ask? Boys are stupid. That's what gives. They don't put in the effort required to make women recognize when they are trying, so they clearly cannot see when someone does. It's either that, or they DO know and are playing some pathetic game of "how long WILL she bat her eyelashes my way?" to feel better about themselves and boost their precious ego. (Sidenote, boys: If you are, you need to stop right now. Because we're very Twisted Sister about this issue, and if you're messing with our heads we are not going to take it anymore. You'll miss out entirely.)
Sadly, most guys are clueless , oblivious messes when it comes to your attention. They don't do subtle and they can't understand it. You're going to have to either set your sights higher or make your attraction more obvious. I'm talking about in his face, "I WANT TO KISS YOU" obvious. And girl double-talk confuses them, so try to avoid that. You can't say, "I like you. I mean, I LIKE YOU like you." He'll just look lost, scratch his head/balls/both, order another beer, and ogle some other woman. Use small, common words and simple sentence structure. Remember who you're dealing with, after all. It's not ideal, but at least he'll finally understand.
Solitarily yours,
Bitter Amanda
While struggling to engage my dearest in a game of footsie, I started to wonder why boys always make the girl do all the work. It seems more often than not they sit there like disinterested cows while the girl struggles to charm the pants off the boy in question with her flirtations and feminine wiles. After a few days/weeks/months of batting your freaking eyelashes to an ignorant bovine stare, you start feeling like a whore. What gives? And what can be done?
50 Winks and No Bed
Dear Clarabelle,
What gives, you ask? Boys are stupid. That's what gives. They don't put in the effort required to make women recognize when they are trying, so they clearly cannot see when someone does. It's either that, or they DO know and are playing some pathetic game of "how long WILL she bat her eyelashes my way?" to feel better about themselves and boost their precious ego. (Sidenote, boys: If you are, you need to stop right now. Because we're very Twisted Sister about this issue, and if you're messing with our heads we are not going to take it anymore. You'll miss out entirely.)
Sadly, most guys are clueless , oblivious messes when it comes to your attention. They don't do subtle and they can't understand it. You're going to have to either set your sights higher or make your attraction more obvious. I'm talking about in his face, "I WANT TO KISS YOU" obvious. And girl double-talk confuses them, so try to avoid that. You can't say, "I like you. I mean, I LIKE YOU like you." He'll just look lost, scratch his head/balls/both, order another beer, and ogle some other woman. Use small, common words and simple sentence structure. Remember who you're dealing with, after all. It's not ideal, but at least he'll finally understand.
Solitarily yours,
Bitter Amanda
Monday, August 27, 2007
Dear Cloudy...
Dear Bitter Amanda,
My case might be a bit particular but my question is pretty universal. After recently ending (not in a good way) a long-term and often long-distance relationship and spending a year abroad during which my parents moved across the country, I will spend my summer living at home and working in Denver. In short, the forecast for my summer is heavy loneliness with a chance of culture shock. I would really like to make some friends, preferably of the male persuasion, but I am completely lost as to how to go about doing that after not being single for the past 4 years, not being in the US for the past 10 months, and never being to Denver ever! Do you have any tips on how to meet people? How to avoid too much parent-time? Any good summer airline deals so I can visit my friends around the country?
Merci,
The Lone Ranger
Dear Cloudy,
I freaking wish I knew about good airline deals! The few people who can tolerate my attitude for long periods of time are scattered around the country/world.
Summer is quickly coming to an end, so I have managed to dodge the too much parent-time question. Hooray for me! And once again, my extreme procrastination has yielded positive results. (In fairness, I did warn readers that I would be away. But you all have lots of issues, so it couldn't be avoided.)
Meeting people is tough. Meeting boys is even harder, unless your standard for male companionship is quite low. If that's the case, dollface, head to your local bar! Any bar will do! Please be prepared to discuss the finer points of Transformers and your position on beer pong vs. beirut. If you're looking for something more, then I'm out. I have no idea where the nice ones are hiding. I can't imagine they've formed some sort of underground society, but it's entirely possible...since they are nowhere to be found. As for friends, go sit somewhere public and either play Solitaire or do a Sudoku puzzle. I've never been able to do either without someone over my shoulder wanting to help. (Which, by the way, family and friends, is SUPER AWESOME OF YOU. Really. I mean that.) (Oh, wait. No, I do not. Alone time is alone time, dammit.)
Solitarily yours,
Bitter Amanda
My case might be a bit particular but my question is pretty universal. After recently ending (not in a good way) a long-term and often long-distance relationship and spending a year abroad during which my parents moved across the country, I will spend my summer living at home and working in Denver. In short, the forecast for my summer is heavy loneliness with a chance of culture shock. I would really like to make some friends, preferably of the male persuasion, but I am completely lost as to how to go about doing that after not being single for the past 4 years, not being in the US for the past 10 months, and never being to Denver ever! Do you have any tips on how to meet people? How to avoid too much parent-time? Any good summer airline deals so I can visit my friends around the country?
Merci,
The Lone Ranger
Dear Cloudy,
I freaking wish I knew about good airline deals! The few people who can tolerate my attitude for long periods of time are scattered around the country/world.
Summer is quickly coming to an end, so I have managed to dodge the too much parent-time question. Hooray for me! And once again, my extreme procrastination has yielded positive results. (In fairness, I did warn readers that I would be away. But you all have lots of issues, so it couldn't be avoided.)
Meeting people is tough. Meeting boys is even harder, unless your standard for male companionship is quite low. If that's the case, dollface, head to your local bar! Any bar will do! Please be prepared to discuss the finer points of Transformers and your position on beer pong vs. beirut. If you're looking for something more, then I'm out. I have no idea where the nice ones are hiding. I can't imagine they've formed some sort of underground society, but it's entirely possible...since they are nowhere to be found. As for friends, go sit somewhere public and either play Solitaire or do a Sudoku puzzle. I've never been able to do either without someone over my shoulder wanting to help. (Which, by the way, family and friends, is SUPER AWESOME OF YOU. Really. I mean that.) (Oh, wait. No, I do not. Alone time is alone time, dammit.)
Solitarily yours,
Bitter Amanda
Dear Contestant...
Dear Bitter Amanda,
I was recently dumped by my boyfriend of two and a half years. And to be honest, I still haven't figured out why. He called me up one night, we chatted for 10 minutes, and he asked if he could come over. Since he goes to school an hour away, this was an unexpected visit, and I was happy. And he brought me a gift, and I was very happy. And then he dumped me, and I was fucking pissed. He thought that "things might go downhill later" and didn't want it to get ugly. He refused to fully explain himself. So the question is...what kind of a douchebag brings a present when they break up with someone??
Dumped in the D
Dear Contestant,
Thanks for playing our game! Nothing shouts true love like "parting gift." You sure had yourself a winner, pumpkin. Normally, I'd suggest that he was cheating and that you should go all Carrie Underwood on his ass. But here's my theory--he's not very bright. Doesn't strike me as very charming--so I'm not sure he sounds like the kind of guy who could juggle two women at once--that requires a certain amount of skill. And the man who brings a present doesn't really have any.
Since this is by far one of the most absurd break-up stories I've heard, I have compiled a list of the worst. Please note that these are not set in stone, and I am willing to amend the list at any given time. I now present...
Again, these are negotiable. But you'll have to prove that you deserve to be on the list!
Anyway, pumpkin, I'd say you're better off without such a loser tagging along.
Solitarily yours,
Bitter Amanda
**It should be noted for readers that the nature of the consolation prize was not mentioned.
I was recently dumped by my boyfriend of two and a half years. And to be honest, I still haven't figured out why. He called me up one night, we chatted for 10 minutes, and he asked if he could come over. Since he goes to school an hour away, this was an unexpected visit, and I was happy. And he brought me a gift, and I was very happy. And then he dumped me, and I was fucking pissed. He thought that "things might go downhill later" and didn't want it to get ugly. He refused to fully explain himself. So the question is...what kind of a douchebag brings a present when they break up with someone??
Dumped in the D
Dear Contestant,
Thanks for playing our game! Nothing shouts true love like "parting gift." You sure had yourself a winner, pumpkin. Normally, I'd suggest that he was cheating and that you should go all Carrie Underwood on his ass. But here's my theory--he's not very bright. Doesn't strike me as very charming--so I'm not sure he sounds like the kind of guy who could juggle two women at once--that requires a certain amount of skill. And the man who brings a present doesn't really have any.
Since this is by far one of the most absurd break-up stories I've heard, I have compiled a list of the worst. Please note that these are not set in stone, and I am willing to amend the list at any given time. I now present...
Bitter Amanda's Top 5 Lamest Break-Ups
1. Flavor of Love, Season Two. He brought New York back a second time, only to dump her AGAIN. On national television. That's cold, Flav.
2. Rory, Gilmore Girls. Please follow this link-----> HERE to find out what I mean. My BFF will kill me if I ruin anything for her. A girl has to have priorities.
3. Legally Blonde. He lets her get all excited for the big night, new dress and all. Takes her somewhere nice. When she's expecting him to pop the question, he drops the DUMPED bomb on her, and then has the nerve to tell her it's because she's not very smart. Classy.
4. Carrie and Berger, Sex and the City. The infamous Post-It note. Not even a real letter. Just a sticky yellow piece of paper.
5. This reader and her ridiculously stupid ex-boyfriend, the bringer of presents you'll never want to look at again. "What a lovely necklace**! Where did you get it?" "Oh, you know, Buttface brought it for me when he decided he didn't love me anymore. Sparkly!"
Again, these are negotiable. But you'll have to prove that you deserve to be on the list!
Anyway, pumpkin, I'd say you're better off without such a loser tagging along.
Solitarily yours,
Bitter Amanda
**It should be noted for readers that the nature of the consolation prize was not mentioned.
Friday, July 06, 2007
Wednesday, June 27, 2007
Dear Chesty...
Dear Bitter Amanda,
This is not a common problem, and most women would not be complaining, but my breasts recently got noticeably bigger! I was put on the Pill, not because of sexual activity (unfortunately), and ever since, my boobs just inflated!! However, I'm not really sure what to do with them? It's actually quite awkward. Help?!
Fondly,
Busty
Dear Chesty,
When I first read your letter, I was going to tell you to stop bragging. But it felt wrong. Because what you're going through is a pain in the ass. I dealt with that a couple years ago, when my friends told me that there was "no way possible" I was the size I claimed. (Thanks for that.) Replacing bras is expensive! That's the most obnoxious problem. You can't exactly trade them all in--though how amazing would that program be? I haven't quite hammered all the details out just yet--but one day, kids. One day.
Until I come up with that Bra Exchange Extravaganza, all I can tell you is use what you've got. Show the girls off (tastefully, Britney...) and try and score some free drinks or something! I hear breasts can be powerful in that way. Men are pigs. Take advantage of that!
Solitarily yours,
Bitter Amanda
This is not a common problem, and most women would not be complaining, but my breasts recently got noticeably bigger! I was put on the Pill, not because of sexual activity (unfortunately), and ever since, my boobs just inflated!! However, I'm not really sure what to do with them? It's actually quite awkward. Help?!
Fondly,
Busty
Dear Chesty,
When I first read your letter, I was going to tell you to stop bragging. But it felt wrong. Because what you're going through is a pain in the ass. I dealt with that a couple years ago, when my friends told me that there was "no way possible" I was the size I claimed. (Thanks for that.) Replacing bras is expensive! That's the most obnoxious problem. You can't exactly trade them all in--though how amazing would that program be? I haven't quite hammered all the details out just yet--but one day, kids. One day.
Until I come up with that Bra Exchange Extravaganza, all I can tell you is use what you've got. Show the girls off (tastefully, Britney...) and try and score some free drinks or something! I hear breasts can be powerful in that way. Men are pigs. Take advantage of that!
Solitarily yours,
Bitter Amanda
Sunday, June 24, 2007
Dear Wolfgang...
Dear Bitter Amanda,
Ok, serious question, Miss Bitters:
Why is it that when a girl re-acquires a single status, everyone and her mother thinks she wants to be set up on a blind date?
Personally, I'm enjoying the me-by-myself time (finally!) and I don't really want to spoil it by getting un-single again. And yes, all the people who offer up their single friends to me happen to be coupled for life already. And yes, the goal of their evil blind date plot is to make me coupled for life as well.
What gives?
-Lone Wolf, Going It Alone (And Liking It!)
Dear Wolfgang,
Well done you, for recognizing the coupling plot! That's really the issue here; that couples don't like to see friends who are single and having more fun. It's a jealousy issue. I mean, you have got it really good right now. You can talk to anyone you want without someone getting jealous and territorial. You never have to worry that your date is going to wear something hideous and you'll have to dress him (ok, or her, but let's be honest) like he's a toddler! Major holidays? You don't have to divvy those up between two families. Your life is pretty great.
They're probably thinking more about themselves here. If they find you a mate, maybe you'll stop having cocktail parties to which no one is allowed to bring a date. Maybe they can bring the boyfriend/girlfriend to social outings without you being rude! Perhaps they can finally invite you to their secret couple dinner parties without you making gagging noises all evening because you're the odd numbered guest.
...I'm not saying I've had any personal experience with that. I'm just saying that might be what they're thinking. That's all. Ignore them, though. You just keep enjoying your single life, princess.
Solitarily yours,
Bitter Amanda
Ok, serious question, Miss Bitters:
Why is it that when a girl re-acquires a single status, everyone and her mother thinks she wants to be set up on a blind date?
Personally, I'm enjoying the me-by-myself time (finally!) and I don't really want to spoil it by getting un-single again. And yes, all the people who offer up their single friends to me happen to be coupled for life already. And yes, the goal of their evil blind date plot is to make me coupled for life as well.
What gives?
-Lone Wolf, Going It Alone (And Liking It!)
Dear Wolfgang,
Well done you, for recognizing the coupling plot! That's really the issue here; that couples don't like to see friends who are single and having more fun. It's a jealousy issue. I mean, you have got it really good right now. You can talk to anyone you want without someone getting jealous and territorial. You never have to worry that your date is going to wear something hideous and you'll have to dress him (ok, or her, but let's be honest) like he's a toddler! Major holidays? You don't have to divvy those up between two families. Your life is pretty great.
They're probably thinking more about themselves here. If they find you a mate, maybe you'll stop having cocktail parties to which no one is allowed to bring a date. Maybe they can bring the boyfriend/girlfriend to social outings without you being rude! Perhaps they can finally invite you to their secret couple dinner parties without you making gagging noises all evening because you're the odd numbered guest.
...I'm not saying I've had any personal experience with that. I'm just saying that might be what they're thinking. That's all. Ignore them, though. You just keep enjoying your single life, princess.
Solitarily yours,
Bitter Amanda
Thursday, June 07, 2007
Dear Highlights...
Dear Bitter Amanda,
Recently my choice of reading materials have been reduced to trashy romance novels and my favorite activity is highlighting pages with sex in them. Is this wrong? Should I be ashamed or can I continue to enjoy phrases such as “turgid nipple” and “letting the quick release pour through her like liquid fire” without fear of moral damnation? Is it wrong to live my life through gorgeous computer hackers and slick F.B.I. agents and stunning lounge singers and private investigators? Please help me!
Faithfully yours,
Hopelessly literate
Dear Highlights,
Moral damnation? Do I strike you as the kind of lady who worries about moral damnation? No. I guess I should make one thing clear for everyone: Bitter Amanda is not anti-sex. If you like to get your fill of all things sexual through books, then go to it. I'm also pro-reading, so I guess this is something I should endorse. At least the men in those books aren't complete let-downs, unlike the men in real life. Who are generally known to be assface losers.
As a sidenote, though, I should point out that boasting about your books might be a bad idea. Just because...you know...it's kind of pathetic.
Solitarily yours,
Bitter Amanda
Recently my choice of reading materials have been reduced to trashy romance novels and my favorite activity is highlighting pages with sex in them. Is this wrong? Should I be ashamed or can I continue to enjoy phrases such as “turgid nipple” and “letting the quick release pour through her like liquid fire” without fear of moral damnation? Is it wrong to live my life through gorgeous computer hackers and slick F.B.I. agents and stunning lounge singers and private investigators? Please help me!
Faithfully yours,
Hopelessly literate
Dear Highlights,
Moral damnation? Do I strike you as the kind of lady who worries about moral damnation? No. I guess I should make one thing clear for everyone: Bitter Amanda is not anti-sex. If you like to get your fill of all things sexual through books, then go to it. I'm also pro-reading, so I guess this is something I should endorse. At least the men in those books aren't complete let-downs, unlike the men in real life. Who are generally known to be assface losers.
As a sidenote, though, I should point out that boasting about your books might be a bad idea. Just because...you know...it's kind of pathetic.
Solitarily yours,
Bitter Amanda
Dear Paranoid...
Dear Bitter Amanda,
I have a brand new coworker who sits in the cubicle across from mine. Lets call him "ThePimp". Mid twenties, tall, outgoing, the ladies find him attractive. Very, very attractive. Maybe its the fact we're an engineering firm, and most of the men around are nerdy, anti-social, old and balding. But every five minutes another administrative assistant is coming by to say hi, see if there's anything he needs, offer to show him around, flirt to the point I want to gag, etc. Its almost like one of those Axe commercials, where the guy puts on deodorant and suddenly women are all over him. The only reason my engineer coworkers aren't drooling over him is because they're mostly men. Or lesbians. The point is, if I hear another girl giggle flirtatiously I will kill someone. How do I get the ladies to stop dropping by "ThePimp's" office? Is there a spray that will turn the ladies away? For an Anti-Axe effect? Or do I need to set his cubicle on fire so he can find somewhere else to sit? What is a bitter engineer supposed to do?!
~Anti Social at Work
Dear Paranoid,
Overreacting, much? These young women are just trying to be helpful, I'm sure. I'm sure it has nothing to do with him being attractive and social, standing out in a building full of engineers. (Sorry, engineers, but I know lots of you. I speak from experience.) They did the same for you when you were new, didn't they?
No?
Oh. Whores. Here are your two options. It really depends on which side you're on; that of the pathetic women just trying to get a date, or that of your fellow engineer who can't help it if he's so beautiful that women just fall all over him. (Gag.) If it's the first, you could spread rumors about him. See my previous column here for some ideas. Then the ladies in the office won't be in such a rush to chat with him. OR, if you're on the other side of the fence, with him, then you're going to have to invoke some mean girl tactics. Start hanging out with him. Find out how he feels about the attention. If he's like, "I am so awesome and the ladies just love me and it's so cool grunting noise grahhh," then stop hanging out immediately and go back to the first option. However, if he's feeling trapped by perfume and giggles, you can bond. This will be the equivalent of you peeing in his cubicle--even in a non-romantic way, mark him as your territory.
I'm not sure why I keep referencing animal behavior. But thanks for noticing.
Solitarily yours,
Bitter Amanda
I have a brand new coworker who sits in the cubicle across from mine. Lets call him "ThePimp". Mid twenties, tall, outgoing, the ladies find him attractive. Very, very attractive. Maybe its the fact we're an engineering firm, and most of the men around are nerdy, anti-social, old and balding. But every five minutes another administrative assistant is coming by to say hi, see if there's anything he needs, offer to show him around, flirt to the point I want to gag, etc. Its almost like one of those Axe commercials, where the guy puts on deodorant and suddenly women are all over him. The only reason my engineer coworkers aren't drooling over him is because they're mostly men. Or lesbians. The point is, if I hear another girl giggle flirtatiously I will kill someone. How do I get the ladies to stop dropping by "ThePimp's" office? Is there a spray that will turn the ladies away? For an Anti-Axe effect? Or do I need to set his cubicle on fire so he can find somewhere else to sit? What is a bitter engineer supposed to do?!
~Anti Social at Work
Dear Paranoid,
Overreacting, much? These young women are just trying to be helpful, I'm sure. I'm sure it has nothing to do with him being attractive and social, standing out in a building full of engineers. (Sorry, engineers, but I know lots of you. I speak from experience.) They did the same for you when you were new, didn't they?
No?
Oh. Whores. Here are your two options. It really depends on which side you're on; that of the pathetic women just trying to get a date, or that of your fellow engineer who can't help it if he's so beautiful that women just fall all over him. (Gag.) If it's the first, you could spread rumors about him. See my previous column here for some ideas. Then the ladies in the office won't be in such a rush to chat with him. OR, if you're on the other side of the fence, with him, then you're going to have to invoke some mean girl tactics. Start hanging out with him. Find out how he feels about the attention. If he's like, "I am so awesome and the ladies just love me and it's so cool grunting noise grahhh," then stop hanging out immediately and go back to the first option. However, if he's feeling trapped by perfume and giggles, you can bond. This will be the equivalent of you peeing in his cubicle--even in a non-romantic way, mark him as your territory.
I'm not sure why I keep referencing animal behavior. But thanks for noticing.
Solitarily yours,
Bitter Amanda
Wednesday, May 23, 2007
Dear Hopeless Readers...
Dear Bitter Amanda,
What happened to the sweet, man loving sex machine that we all loved and adored in Ireland. Has life out of college really driven you to such an extreme? What can I do to avoid the same fate, to say nay to chocolate as a chemical substitute for the female?I hope the real Amanda (if she is still in there) only booked one ticket to Ireland and left the bitter variety at home.
Mark
Dear Hopeless Readers,
While you can't believe every accusation printed about celebrities, a small portion of the above letter is true. I am going to Ireland, and will be gone for the next 10 days. It's time for a vacation. Mark, I'm always the Real Amanda...while I only booked one ticket, you never know when Bitter Amanda will rear her bitter head. It's an adventure!
So, kids, you'll have to manage without me for a bit. I'll answer the rest of your sad letters when I get home.
Solitarily yours,
Bitter Amanda
What happened to the sweet, man loving sex machine that we all loved and adored in Ireland. Has life out of college really driven you to such an extreme? What can I do to avoid the same fate, to say nay to chocolate as a chemical substitute for the female?I hope the real Amanda (if she is still in there) only booked one ticket to Ireland and left the bitter variety at home.
Mark
Dear Hopeless Readers,
While you can't believe every accusation printed about celebrities, a small portion of the above letter is true. I am going to Ireland, and will be gone for the next 10 days. It's time for a vacation. Mark, I'm always the Real Amanda...while I only booked one ticket, you never know when Bitter Amanda will rear her bitter head. It's an adventure!
So, kids, you'll have to manage without me for a bit. I'll answer the rest of your sad letters when I get home.
Solitarily yours,
Bitter Amanda
Saturday, May 19, 2007
Dear Gassy...
Dear Bitter Amanda,
I am currently studying abroad in Paris and I have noticed that the French rules on PDA are quite different from America. In the states, holding hands is often where the line is drawn, whereas I have seen several French couples unabashedly making out all over the place! This includes the metro, street corners, restaurants, parks, need I continue? In exercising my bitterness, I've started making little fart sounds when I walk by, hoping to break the ambiance and make one if not both of them slightly confused and disgusted. Is this impolite? Do you have a better suggestion? How would you deal with your bitterness in these situations?
Yours truly,
tiny fart
Dear Gassy,
Impolite? Is making farting noises at happy couples impolite? YES! Of course it is! There are few things less sexy than farting. So naturally, I must applaud you! I approve! We should go eat ice cream together!
I cannot improve upon your methods; only teach you some of mine to expand your arsenal. Shouting out inappropriate/unsexy things such as 'syphilis' is always a classic. Gagging noises are a subtle and classy way to let the amorous couple know that their display is unappreciated. And if you're not looking for subtlety, throw things. Small things, mind you. (Lawsuits blah blah blah.)
You keep fighting the good fight, champ.
Solitarily yours,
Bitter Amanda
I am currently studying abroad in Paris and I have noticed that the French rules on PDA are quite different from America. In the states, holding hands is often where the line is drawn, whereas I have seen several French couples unabashedly making out all over the place! This includes the metro, street corners, restaurants, parks, need I continue? In exercising my bitterness, I've started making little fart sounds when I walk by, hoping to break the ambiance and make one if not both of them slightly confused and disgusted. Is this impolite? Do you have a better suggestion? How would you deal with your bitterness in these situations?
Yours truly,
tiny fart
Dear Gassy,
Impolite? Is making farting noises at happy couples impolite? YES! Of course it is! There are few things less sexy than farting. So naturally, I must applaud you! I approve! We should go eat ice cream together!
I cannot improve upon your methods; only teach you some of mine to expand your arsenal. Shouting out inappropriate/unsexy things such as 'syphilis' is always a classic. Gagging noises are a subtle and classy way to let the amorous couple know that their display is unappreciated. And if you're not looking for subtlety, throw things. Small things, mind you. (Lawsuits blah blah blah.)
You keep fighting the good fight, champ.
Solitarily yours,
Bitter Amanda
Tuesday, May 15, 2007
Dear Haylie Duff...
Dear Bitter Amanda,
My little sister - and by little I mean 23 yrs old- just moved back home after living for a year overseas. I'm so happy to have her around! But she's been home for maybe three days, and she already has a date! I've lived here for three YEARS without so much as a hey-you-wanna-grab-a-cup-of-coffee-?. What gives?
Signed, Big Sis
Dear Haylie Duff,
Little sisters often forget the pecking order when it comes to dating. Sure, it looks glamorous, but you wait for your older sister to get some before you go out looking for it! It's the natural way of things, dammit.
Practice slipping the following sentences into casual conversation. "*Little Sister* is quite graceful, considering she has a peg leg. Like Captain Hook, that one..." "Yeah, *Little Sister* has such a lovely face...you'd never guess it's not the one she was born with. " Or, the vague, "*Sigh.* It's too bad about *Little Sister*..." You can also customize a flyer like the one below, for additional help.
Then, go out in public with her frequently. You'll just look that much hotter. Because nobody thinks a rabid raccoon mauled YOUR face.
Solitarily yours,
Bitter Amanda
PS- Boys are notoriously lame about asking girls out. And about everything else in life, other than like...making inappropriate remarks and getting the high score on their Wii. Don't take it personally.
My little sister - and by little I mean 23 yrs old- just moved back home after living for a year overseas. I'm so happy to have her around! But she's been home for maybe three days, and she already has a date! I've lived here for three YEARS without so much as a hey-you-wanna-grab-a-cup-of-coffee-?. What gives?
Signed, Big Sis
Dear Haylie Duff,
Little sisters often forget the pecking order when it comes to dating. Sure, it looks glamorous, but you wait for your older sister to get some before you go out looking for it! It's the natural way of things, dammit.
Practice slipping the following sentences into casual conversation. "*Little Sister* is quite graceful, considering she has a peg leg. Like Captain Hook, that one..." "Yeah, *Little Sister* has such a lovely face...you'd never guess it's not the one she was born with. " Or, the vague, "*Sigh.* It's too bad about *Little Sister*..." You can also customize a flyer like the one below, for additional help.
Then, go out in public with her frequently. You'll just look that much hotter. Because nobody thinks a rabid raccoon mauled YOUR face.
Solitarily yours,
Bitter Amanda
PS- Boys are notoriously lame about asking girls out. And about everything else in life, other than like...making inappropriate remarks and getting the high score on their Wii. Don't take it personally.
Thursday, May 10, 2007
Dear Flavorless...
Dear Bitter Amanda,
I have been left on national television three times. Yes, you read that correctly: three times. THRREEEEEEEEEE TIMMMMMMMMEEEEES. I'm becoming bitter. What should I do?
-Not everyone loves New York
Dear Flavorless,
Wow. So much to say, so little time...
First of all, princess, start by getting your ass off national television. If an animal runs into an electric fence once, you can bet they won't run at it again--three times. Dating reality shows are your own personal electric fence. Learn the lesson!
Second, surround yourself with a higher caliber of men. I know, this may seem like an impossible feat. But you have got some bad taste. Stop going after the same kind of man repeatedly--again, it's like that damned electric fence!
Learn the lessons.
Solitarily yours,
Bitter Amanda
I have been left on national television three times. Yes, you read that correctly: three times. THRREEEEEEEEEE TIMMMMMMMMEEEEES. I'm becoming bitter. What should I do?
-Not everyone loves New York
Dear Flavorless,
Wow. So much to say, so little time...
First of all, princess, start by getting your ass off national television. If an animal runs into an electric fence once, you can bet they won't run at it again--three times. Dating reality shows are your own personal electric fence. Learn the lesson!
Second, surround yourself with a higher caliber of men. I know, this may seem like an impossible feat. But you have got some bad taste. Stop going after the same kind of man repeatedly--again, it's like that damned electric fence!
Learn the lessons.
Solitarily yours,
Bitter Amanda
Wednesday, May 09, 2007
Dear Self One Year Ago...
Dear Bitter Amanda,
I'm a listless loser--jobless and pointless--living in a suburb known for its uncanny ability to suck people in like a black hole and keep them there until one day they wake up with bed sores on their asses and tears in their eyes. Anyway, I need to know the secret code for escape from such a place. How am I, someone without resources, to break free from this mindnumbingly boring place without afixing jumper cables to my ears and turning the engine over???
Braindead in Boringville
Dear Self One Year Ago,
I did not think Bitter Amanda of the Past could send letters to Bitter Amanda of the Present. Since this is just not possible (and if it is, it's just freaking weird...and I am in no mood to be inspiration for the next sci-fi thriller) I can only assume that you are perhaps a recent college grad? And that maybe things aren't turning out quite the way your commencement speaker made it sound? They are, I've figured out, notorious liars.
"The whole world is at your doorstep. You can do anything you want. You are on the brink of the best years of your life!" All that crap. What they should be saying is, "The whole world is at the doorstep of your parent's house, where you will live until you can afford to leave. You can do anything you want, as long as you want to do some part-time work that isn't necessarily related to your degree, because that booming economy you hear about sometimes? Is nowhere near where you live. You are on the brink of leaving the best years of your life, since nothing will ever be as much fun or as interesting as college."
Damn, I'd write a good speech. But the answer you're looking for? Not so much. Find something that amuses you, even if it's...oh, say...making fun of people. Then at least you'll have one bright spot in your day.
Good luck, champ.
Solitarily yours,
Bitter Amanda
I'm a listless loser--jobless and pointless--living in a suburb known for its uncanny ability to suck people in like a black hole and keep them there until one day they wake up with bed sores on their asses and tears in their eyes. Anyway, I need to know the secret code for escape from such a place. How am I, someone without resources, to break free from this mindnumbingly boring place without afixing jumper cables to my ears and turning the engine over???
Braindead in Boringville
Dear Self One Year Ago,
I did not think Bitter Amanda of the Past could send letters to Bitter Amanda of the Present. Since this is just not possible (and if it is, it's just freaking weird...and I am in no mood to be inspiration for the next sci-fi thriller) I can only assume that you are perhaps a recent college grad? And that maybe things aren't turning out quite the way your commencement speaker made it sound? They are, I've figured out, notorious liars.
"The whole world is at your doorstep. You can do anything you want. You are on the brink of the best years of your life!" All that crap. What they should be saying is, "The whole world is at the doorstep of your parent's house, where you will live until you can afford to leave. You can do anything you want, as long as you want to do some part-time work that isn't necessarily related to your degree, because that booming economy you hear about sometimes? Is nowhere near where you live. You are on the brink of leaving the best years of your life, since nothing will ever be as much fun or as interesting as college."
Damn, I'd write a good speech. But the answer you're looking for? Not so much. Find something that amuses you, even if it's...oh, say...making fun of people. Then at least you'll have one bright spot in your day.
Good luck, champ.
Solitarily yours,
Bitter Amanda
Tuesday, May 08, 2007
Dear Braggart...
Dear Bitter Amanda,
My girlfriend hogs the bed every night and every time I try to move her she's like dead weight. I've tried talking to her about this but it never seems to help. WHAT DO I DO?
-Tired and Squished.
Dear Braggart,
Oh, poooooor you. "I have someone to sleep with every single night but that's just not good enough for me!" Blah blah blah.
I'll tell you what you do, precious. You go to bed first and pretend like she's an attacking bear. Make yourself as large as possible to scare her away. I'm not an expert on animals, but I think the method for cougars is also applicable here...throw things at her. Or, if you don't want anyone to make a call to the police about a domestic dispute, you could treat her like a raccoon taking up residence in your home. Leave a window or door open and she should find her way out by morning.
I know your lady isn't a wild animal (ok, I hope your lady isn't a wild animal...) but I think these ought to do the trick. Good thing my dad used to teach me about outdoor safety in northern Michigan!
Solitarily yours,
Bitter Amanda
My girlfriend hogs the bed every night and every time I try to move her she's like dead weight. I've tried talking to her about this but it never seems to help. WHAT DO I DO?
-Tired and Squished.
Dear Braggart,
Oh, poooooor you. "I have someone to sleep with every single night but that's just not good enough for me!" Blah blah blah.
I'll tell you what you do, precious. You go to bed first and pretend like she's an attacking bear. Make yourself as large as possible to scare her away. I'm not an expert on animals, but I think the method for cougars is also applicable here...throw things at her. Or, if you don't want anyone to make a call to the police about a domestic dispute, you could treat her like a raccoon taking up residence in your home. Leave a window or door open and she should find her way out by morning.
I know your lady isn't a wild animal (ok, I hope your lady isn't a wild animal...) but I think these ought to do the trick. Good thing my dad used to teach me about outdoor safety in northern Michigan!
Solitarily yours,
Bitter Amanda
Sunday, May 06, 2007
Dear Marty Stouffer...
Dear Bitter Amanda,What happens to the poor love-sick swan when she discovers that her true love is just a heap of plywood and plastic?
The guy who designed the boat should be shot--poor innocent water fowl.
xoxo, Wildlife Enthusiast
Dear Marty Stouffer,
That is lame! What kind of loser does that? I'll tell you. A man. There is no other explanation. I'd like to agree with you on his fate, but I probably shouldn't encourage serious crimes here. Instead, I'll say that he should be presented with many beautiful women, only to discover that they're life-sized dolls. With Barbie-style lower halves. HA! Sucks to be that guy.
Solitarily yours,
Bitter Amanda
Wednesday, April 18, 2007
Sidenote.
I have some letters to post later, but for now, go check out the latest post on my other blog. It's important!
Solitarily yours,
Bitter Amanda
Solitarily yours,
Bitter Amanda
Tuesday, March 13, 2007
Dear Sleeping Beauty...
Dear Bitter Amanda,
So I've been busy and stressed out lately - working until 6, 7, and even 9:30. I haven't even had time to call or email my friends. (Admittedly, that's ridiculous, and I'm a bit of an ass for not even tipping my hat in their vague directions.) But back to me... last night, I went to sleep late again, and all I wanted was a few hours of blissful sleep and maybe a nice dream or two. Well, let me tell you, what I got was a doozie about all of the losers I've ever "dated". How do I kick my subconscious in the ass?
Yours truly,
The Nightmare Queen
Dear Sleeping Beauty,
If your friends are remotely awesome, and something tells me that they are, they will understand that work is a bitch. At least you’re not ignoring them in favor of some fling. Because, as we are all aware, that is a despicable, obnoxious habit. And I would tell you (in a beat of my withered, hardened heart) if you were doing that.
I’ve kept your letter at the top of my pile for a few days now, hoping some wisdom would come to me. No such luck. So, because I hate to keep you waiting for so long, I will use my college essay method and fake it.
Try to clear your head before you sleep, sunshine. Something mindless. I like puzzles or catching up on my celebrity gossip. (Shut up.) Drink some cocoa. (Because I feel somewhat incomplete when I give advice without mentioning chocolate.)
And if you happen to figure out a foolproof way to get losers out of your head, please let me know. We can write a book and split the profits.
Solitarily yours,
Bitter Amanda
So I've been busy and stressed out lately - working until 6, 7, and even 9:30. I haven't even had time to call or email my friends. (Admittedly, that's ridiculous, and I'm a bit of an ass for not even tipping my hat in their vague directions.) But back to me... last night, I went to sleep late again, and all I wanted was a few hours of blissful sleep and maybe a nice dream or two. Well, let me tell you, what I got was a doozie about all of the losers I've ever "dated". How do I kick my subconscious in the ass?
Yours truly,
The Nightmare Queen
Dear Sleeping Beauty,
If your friends are remotely awesome, and something tells me that they are, they will understand that work is a bitch. At least you’re not ignoring them in favor of some fling. Because, as we are all aware, that is a despicable, obnoxious habit. And I would tell you (in a beat of my withered, hardened heart) if you were doing that.
I’ve kept your letter at the top of my pile for a few days now, hoping some wisdom would come to me. No such luck. So, because I hate to keep you waiting for so long, I will use my college essay method and fake it.
Try to clear your head before you sleep, sunshine. Something mindless. I like puzzles or catching up on my celebrity gossip. (Shut up.) Drink some cocoa. (Because I feel somewhat incomplete when I give advice without mentioning chocolate.)
And if you happen to figure out a foolproof way to get losers out of your head, please let me know. We can write a book and split the profits.
Solitarily yours,
Bitter Amanda
Monday, March 05, 2007
Dear Abby...
Dear Bitter Amanda,
Lately i have been the go to advice girl for all of my friends in relationships. They come to me and ask for help, for thing like gift ideas, and romance advice, all the while they are reminding me that i am single. They don't seem to understand that being single is not something i want to be reminded of every day. I haven't got the heart to tell them to bugger off. What do you think i should do?
~the timid teller
Dear Abby,
So with you on this. I think it's just another way for couples to gloat to single people. A thinly veiled excuse to flaunt their happiness. Because honestly, what would make a person automatically assume that a single lady has all the dating answers? It's just bad logic. Like I said, they're bragging.
If you're looking to quietly back away from your role as Advice Girl, might I suggest pointing people towards an expert? Or me? I'm just...you know...saying.
If subtle hints don't work out, you may have to practice the following. "Leave me alone! I don't give a damn! Ask someone who cares! I'M ALONE!" I've found that the last part can work wonders in many different situations, as well.
Good luck, kiddo.
Solitarily yours,
Bitter Amanda
Lately i have been the go to advice girl for all of my friends in relationships. They come to me and ask for help, for thing like gift ideas, and romance advice, all the while they are reminding me that i am single. They don't seem to understand that being single is not something i want to be reminded of every day. I haven't got the heart to tell them to bugger off. What do you think i should do?
~the timid teller
Dear Abby,
So with you on this. I think it's just another way for couples to gloat to single people. A thinly veiled excuse to flaunt their happiness. Because honestly, what would make a person automatically assume that a single lady has all the dating answers? It's just bad logic. Like I said, they're bragging.
If you're looking to quietly back away from your role as Advice Girl, might I suggest pointing people towards an expert? Or me? I'm just...you know...saying.
If subtle hints don't work out, you may have to practice the following. "Leave me alone! I don't give a damn! Ask someone who cares! I'M ALONE!" I've found that the last part can work wonders in many different situations, as well.
Good luck, kiddo.
Solitarily yours,
Bitter Amanda
Saturday, February 24, 2007
Dear Blondie...
Dear Bitter Amanda,
Someone at work had flowers delivered today from her S.O. I retreated to my cubicle where I gagged in horror. Not to mention, I made blondies and brought them to work today... sugar-replacement therapy, you know. I totally should have labeled them: for singles only. I had better go snag me one before all of the coupled people eat them all. Greedy bastards.
Yours,
Kicking myself
Dear Blondie,
I hope you received my emergency "Go eat them all ASAP!" message. It truly is greedy of coupled coworkers to think V-Day treats are them them. Go back to your cubicle and eat the chocolates from your Valentine! Soak up the obnoxious fumes from your "I'm too special to get my flowers at home" flowers!
I hope you survived the office Valentine's Day!
Solitarily yours,
Bitter Amanda
Someone at work had flowers delivered today from her S.O. I retreated to my cubicle where I gagged in horror. Not to mention, I made blondies and brought them to work today... sugar-replacement therapy, you know. I totally should have labeled them: for singles only. I had better go snag me one before all of the coupled people eat them all. Greedy bastards.
Yours,
Kicking myself
Dear Blondie,
I hope you received my emergency "Go eat them all ASAP!" message. It truly is greedy of coupled coworkers to think V-Day treats are them them. Go back to your cubicle and eat the chocolates from your Valentine! Soak up the obnoxious fumes from your "I'm too special to get my flowers at home" flowers!
I hope you survived the office Valentine's Day!
Solitarily yours,
Bitter Amanda
Wednesday, February 14, 2007
Advice Break...
Try to enjoy your Wednesday in peace, kids!!
So, once again it's Valentine's Day. Please enjoy my hand-crafted Valentine, just for you, my favorite readers. And then, go do whatever you have to to get through this anti-single, despicable excuse for a holiday. As for me, I'll be spending my day doing any number of the following: shouting obscenities at VDay themed television shows, movies, or commercials, eating my bodyweight in pity candy from my father and these delicious treats that my siblings force our mother to make whenever we possibly can, and watching non-romantic DVDs, such as School of Rock and Jackass: The Movie.
See you all on Thursday!
Tuesday, February 13, 2007
Dear Cupid...
Dear Bitter Amanda,
I am cleaning out my house and came across this most disturbing image of The Day, written to my high-school sweetie and future ex-wife sometime in 11th or 12th grade. Other than that One Thing, what in the world could I have been thinking? I mean really! I'll be spending the rest of the evening cleaning up my vomit and asking myself "Why?" Anyway, I feel like I needed to share this with someone, finally, and somehow be purged ... in addition to the biffage and hurlage.
Dear Cupid,
You'll notice I blocked out the names. It's not because I care whether or not you remain anonymous, really. It's because I was so horrified that someone actually wrote that note that I don't want to be associated with you. You did the right thing by sending it to me, though. Valentine's Day is a detestable occasion, and you've given me a great excuse to write that very sentiment. Thanks. Now, I am so glad you see the error of your former ways. I would issue some sort of encouraging remark, like "rock on" or whatever the kids are saying these days, but quite frankly it wouldn't make me feel good about myself. So you'll have to encourage yourself, champ.
Solitarily yours,
Bitter Amanda
I am cleaning out my house and came across this most disturbing image of The Day, written to my high-school sweetie and future ex-wife sometime in 11th or 12th grade. Other than that One Thing, what in the world could I have been thinking? I mean really! I'll be spending the rest of the evening cleaning up my vomit and asking myself "Why?" Anyway, I feel like I needed to share this with someone, finally, and somehow be purged ... in addition to the biffage and hurlage.
Dear Cupid,
You'll notice I blocked out the names. It's not because I care whether or not you remain anonymous, really. It's because I was so horrified that someone actually wrote that note that I don't want to be associated with you. You did the right thing by sending it to me, though. Valentine's Day is a detestable occasion, and you've given me a great excuse to write that very sentiment. Thanks. Now, I am so glad you see the error of your former ways. I would issue some sort of encouraging remark, like "rock on" or whatever the kids are saying these days, but quite frankly it wouldn't make me feel good about myself. So you'll have to encourage yourself, champ.
Solitarily yours,
Bitter Amanda
Thursday, January 18, 2007
Dear Vince Vaughn...
Dear Bitter Amanda,
I am a true wedding crasher. I arrive at weddings before they begin, and try to get either the bride or groom alone to ask if they have truly considered the consequences of the actions they are about to take. Unfortunately, I’ve been banned from every church, synagogue, and wedding hall in the area. How can I convince these institutions that I provide an essential public service which can possibly save couples enormous amounts of time and money in the future when they realize the errors of their ways and want to divorce?
~Just trying to help in CT
Dear Vince Vaughn,
Tough break! Those bastards in charge of joining couples for all eternity (ish) are just in it for the money! Obviously if they’re banning you, they see you as a threat, which tells me that they agree with your goals in some small, hidden way. And you know what that means! Their spirits can be broken. Like the parent of a child in the middle of a toy store, asking over and over and over for a new toy, you can wear these people down, champ! Just keep up with what you’re doing, and eventually they’ll be so exhausted from the fight that they’ll give in.
Solitarily yours,
Bitter Amanda
I am a true wedding crasher. I arrive at weddings before they begin, and try to get either the bride or groom alone to ask if they have truly considered the consequences of the actions they are about to take. Unfortunately, I’ve been banned from every church, synagogue, and wedding hall in the area. How can I convince these institutions that I provide an essential public service which can possibly save couples enormous amounts of time and money in the future when they realize the errors of their ways and want to divorce?
~Just trying to help in CT
Dear Vince Vaughn,
Tough break! Those bastards in charge of joining couples for all eternity (ish) are just in it for the money! Obviously if they’re banning you, they see you as a threat, which tells me that they agree with your goals in some small, hidden way. And you know what that means! Their spirits can be broken. Like the parent of a child in the middle of a toy store, asking over and over and over for a new toy, you can wear these people down, champ! Just keep up with what you’re doing, and eventually they’ll be so exhausted from the fight that they’ll give in.
Solitarily yours,
Bitter Amanda
Thursday, January 11, 2007
Dear Sir Thomas Moore...
Dear Bitter Amanda,
I have a new mission in life. My goal is to make all the happy couples in the world as bitter and jaded about relationships as I am. How would you recommend starting this monumental task?
~On a Quest
Dear Sir Thomas Moore,
Wow. I read your letter, and picturing the utopia you described brought tears to my eyes. What a beautiful sentiment. I can’t even move past the visions of single, cynical, solitary little sugarplums dancing in my head to a symphony of bitterness. It’s like you read my mind and learned exactly what I imagine heaven to be. Minus the rivers of flowing hot fudge, anyway.
However, it is a massive undertaking. But I respect your ambition and you definitely have the right attitude! I think your best bet is to strike from a few different angles. Off the top of my head, I’m going to suggest recruiting help. Sure, St. Nicholas is the top guy, but would he be able to spread Christmas cheer without his helper elves? No, he would not. And you, St. Singleness, cannot send packages of bitterness down the chimneys of couples without some assistance. So get the word out there! (Might I suggest writing an advice column?...) After that, you could take my other advice.
Keep fighting the good fight!
Solitarily yours,
Bitter Amanda
I have a new mission in life. My goal is to make all the happy couples in the world as bitter and jaded about relationships as I am. How would you recommend starting this monumental task?
~On a Quest
Dear Sir Thomas Moore,
Wow. I read your letter, and picturing the utopia you described brought tears to my eyes. What a beautiful sentiment. I can’t even move past the visions of single, cynical, solitary little sugarplums dancing in my head to a symphony of bitterness. It’s like you read my mind and learned exactly what I imagine heaven to be. Minus the rivers of flowing hot fudge, anyway.
However, it is a massive undertaking. But I respect your ambition and you definitely have the right attitude! I think your best bet is to strike from a few different angles. Off the top of my head, I’m going to suggest recruiting help. Sure, St. Nicholas is the top guy, but would he be able to spread Christmas cheer without his helper elves? No, he would not. And you, St. Singleness, cannot send packages of bitterness down the chimneys of couples without some assistance. So get the word out there! (Might I suggest writing an advice column?...) After that, you could take my other advice.
Keep fighting the good fight!
Solitarily yours,
Bitter Amanda
Tuesday, January 09, 2007
Dear Wisteria Lane...
Dear Bitter Amanda,
Have you ever been in the following situation? You meet someone for the first time, and you're making polite introductory conversation. And then THAT question comes up. The "Are you seeing anyone" question. And when you reply "No, I'm single" they give you a sad pitying look, which is followed by an awkward silence, and then an offer of "well, I know some single people I can try to set you up with..." You later find out that the single people they were referring to are single for a reason (you know; crazy, fugly, criminal record, obsessed with Yanni, etc.) What would be a good response to the "are you seeing anyone question" that will make it clear that I am not desperate enough to want to date their high-school dropout, flea-infected, eleven-fingered younger brother when the only thing we have in common is that we're single??
~Not desperate
Dear Wisteria Lane,
I loathe that question! People in relationships are WAY too comfortable throwing it around. It's basically like asking, "Are you as happy as I am?" The ONLY time that question is appropriate is if you are chatting with someone you are interested in dating. Period. Other than that, it is just not acceptable.
So, my happily single friend, here's how to avoid any pitying looks (from condescending couples) AND blind dates with the bottom of the barrel. Always answer, "Are you seeing anyone?" with "Oh...I'm sorry, you're not really my type." UNLESS, of course, they're using the question appropriately. Then it's your call, pumpkin.
Solitarily yours,
Bitter Amanda
Have you ever been in the following situation? You meet someone for the first time, and you're making polite introductory conversation. And then THAT question comes up. The "Are you seeing anyone" question. And when you reply "No, I'm single" they give you a sad pitying look, which is followed by an awkward silence, and then an offer of "well, I know some single people I can try to set you up with..." You later find out that the single people they were referring to are single for a reason (you know; crazy, fugly, criminal record, obsessed with Yanni, etc.) What would be a good response to the "are you seeing anyone question" that will make it clear that I am not desperate enough to want to date their high-school dropout, flea-infected, eleven-fingered younger brother when the only thing we have in common is that we're single??
~Not desperate
Dear Wisteria Lane,
I loathe that question! People in relationships are WAY too comfortable throwing it around. It's basically like asking, "Are you as happy as I am?" The ONLY time that question is appropriate is if you are chatting with someone you are interested in dating. Period. Other than that, it is just not acceptable.
So, my happily single friend, here's how to avoid any pitying looks (from condescending couples) AND blind dates with the bottom of the barrel. Always answer, "Are you seeing anyone?" with "Oh...I'm sorry, you're not really my type." UNLESS, of course, they're using the question appropriately. Then it's your call, pumpkin.
Solitarily yours,
Bitter Amanda
Sunday, December 24, 2006
Sunday, December 03, 2006
Dear Sex Panther...
Dear Bitter Amanda,
Have you ever been single for so long that your standards drop dangerously low? Like "He's old enough to be my father. I'd do him." Or "Who cares if he's married and has a bad combover? Maybe his wife is into threesomes." Or "he smells like a used diaper filled with Indian food. Hey, I like Indian food!". I know that my standards have gone way down... is there anyway to stop my expectations from plummeting to the "hey! at least he's got a pulse!" level?
~Desperately horny.
Dear Sex Panther,
I have been single for so long there's talk of starting some sort of charity out of it. I believe my statue will be in a public space soon. You might see this face on stamps. But never, I repeat NEVER, have my standards dropped.
You can't let your expectations drop dramatically...a (sort of) squeaky clean pop starlet we all know did that once, and look at her now. She married KEVIN FEDERLINE, the most unholy mess of a man I can think of, really. (Strike that, I am only calling him a boy.) Not to mention, jumping the first male to say hello to you is going to set off a chain reaction that will only lead to the demise of the modern gentleman, despite the fact that I think he is a myth. (For more on this topic, check this out.) So if not for yourself, think of the other desperate, single women around the world! AND THINK OF KEVIN FEDERLINE. You don't want that!
I assume you're taking care of yourself, in the meantime? If you aren't, you should.
Solitarily yours,
Bitter Amanda
Have you ever been single for so long that your standards drop dangerously low? Like "He's old enough to be my father. I'd do him." Or "Who cares if he's married and has a bad combover? Maybe his wife is into threesomes." Or "he smells like a used diaper filled with Indian food. Hey, I like Indian food!". I know that my standards have gone way down... is there anyway to stop my expectations from plummeting to the "hey! at least he's got a pulse!" level?
~Desperately horny.
Dear Sex Panther,
I have been single for so long there's talk of starting some sort of charity out of it. I believe my statue will be in a public space soon. You might see this face on stamps. But never, I repeat NEVER, have my standards dropped.
You can't let your expectations drop dramatically...a (sort of) squeaky clean pop starlet we all know did that once, and look at her now. She married KEVIN FEDERLINE, the most unholy mess of a man I can think of, really. (Strike that, I am only calling him a boy.) Not to mention, jumping the first male to say hello to you is going to set off a chain reaction that will only lead to the demise of the modern gentleman, despite the fact that I think he is a myth. (For more on this topic, check this out.) So if not for yourself, think of the other desperate, single women around the world! AND THINK OF KEVIN FEDERLINE. You don't want that!
I assume you're taking care of yourself, in the meantime? If you aren't, you should.
Solitarily yours,
Bitter Amanda
Wednesday, November 15, 2006
Dear Hater...
Since dear friends of mine know they can rely on my advice 24/7, I received another emergency text message.
I hate people in relationships. Why do you have to be an ass when you're dating?
Dear Hater,
Don't hate the player, hate the game. Actually...that's crap. Hate all of it. I hear ya. You're starting to realize what I have been preaching for years. People in relationships think that the damn world revolves around them, while all the singles are only here to serve dinner when they're out on dates or sell movie tickets in sets of two. Let me tell you something, couples! This is not Noah's freaking ark. Just because you found your matching animal (for now, anyway--yeah, I said it) doesn't mean that you are better than the solitary animals. It just means that you have someone to complain to who is basically obligated to listen, even if you tell boring work stories each and every day. That's it! It doesn't make you special. Remember that, Hater. And, if it doesn't ease your pain, try one of my methods. When you see a couple doing anything revolting, yell the word syphilis. It completely ruins the mood.
Solitarily yours,
Bitter Amanda
I hate people in relationships. Why do you have to be an ass when you're dating?
Dear Hater,
Don't hate the player, hate the game. Actually...that's crap. Hate all of it. I hear ya. You're starting to realize what I have been preaching for years. People in relationships think that the damn world revolves around them, while all the singles are only here to serve dinner when they're out on dates or sell movie tickets in sets of two. Let me tell you something, couples! This is not Noah's freaking ark. Just because you found your matching animal (for now, anyway--yeah, I said it) doesn't mean that you are better than the solitary animals. It just means that you have someone to complain to who is basically obligated to listen, even if you tell boring work stories each and every day. That's it! It doesn't make you special. Remember that, Hater. And, if it doesn't ease your pain, try one of my methods. When you see a couple doing anything revolting, yell the word syphilis. It completely ruins the mood.
Solitarily yours,
Bitter Amanda
Friday, November 03, 2006
Dear Witness...
I received this text message the other day. And no, you cannot have my number.
Bitter, I am sitting next to a whining ho and a boyfriend who is too good for her. Ack!
Dear Witness,
Oh no. Don't you hate those girls?? Girls, here's a word of advice for all of you. Never be that girl! If other people think your boyfriend is too good for you...that is some bad, bad news. Because he's male! How can a MAN be too good for someone? They laugh at farts until they are too old to remember what a fart is.
Ladies, keep that in mind.
Solitarily yours,
Bitter Amanda
Bitter, I am sitting next to a whining ho and a boyfriend who is too good for her. Ack!
Dear Witness,
Oh no. Don't you hate those girls?? Girls, here's a word of advice for all of you. Never be that girl! If other people think your boyfriend is too good for you...that is some bad, bad news. Because he's male! How can a MAN be too good for someone? They laugh at farts until they are too old to remember what a fart is.
Ladies, keep that in mind.
Solitarily yours,
Bitter Amanda
Friday, October 20, 2006
Dear Cupcake...
Dear Bitter Amanda,
Well, unless you live under a rock or something, you know what Saturday is.
Yes. It is "Bitter-Sweetest Day."
Since I wrote you earlier, my boyfriend broke up with me, so I am now destined to spend "Bitter-Sweetest Day" alone again, naturally. To make matters worse, with my birthday coming up on November 1st, I just got my personalized license plate with "LUVJEFF" on it. I know, I know, stupid move, right? So, now I'm stuck with that for a while. I don't know what I was thinking! I guess I figured we'd be together and get married like we planned to do. I feel so stupid, I don't know what to do?
I came up with this idea though, and want to see what you think, OK?
I made reservations for two on Saturday night at the Ritz, but only I will show up all decked out in my new really short red dress and all. Some people think that a redhead like me can't get away with wearing red, but I'm here to prove them wrong, sister! I already ordered "Bitter-sweetest Day" flowers for myself, to be delivered Saturday morning, since I ALWAYS get flowers on the real you-know-what day. At the Ritz, I'll pretend to be waiting for my boyfriend to show up, occasionaly flashing furtive glances at my watch, and acting all huffy and upset and stuff. But of course no one ever will show up. So, I'll be left there, all alone, all dressed up, nearly in tears. With any luck, I can get a good looking waiter or maitre d' to notice my predicament and maybe get enough sympathy points to get a free meal or dessert, or maybe ... even a date! What do you think?
How are you celebrating "Bittersweetest Day", Amanda. (I won't even try to call you "you-know-what" - I bet you're glad, huh?)
Anyhoo, give me your thoughts, or maybe we could meet up and be bitter together?
Happy Bittersweetest Day,
Cindy Lynn
Dear Cupcake,
Ah yes. Sweetest Day. The most truly loathsome holiday there is. Yes, even worse than Valentine's Day. At least Valentine's Day has some historic roots. Sweetest Day was fabricated entirely by the candy industry, and serves no real purpose. It's just stupid. Apparently, giving couples one day to flaunt their happiness in the faces of others just wasn't enough! (It is at this point that I suspect anyone in a relationship is telling me a couple things. One, that Valentine's Day isn't just for couples! It's for love! Yeah, shut up. That's a lie and we alllllll know it. Two, that just last month, it was National Singles Week! You got a whole week! So what's wrong with two little days? I didn't ASK for a week, you know. I didn't want it. I suspect that week was created to placate the singles; something to bring up around Sweetest Day and Valentine's Day. I see through that, you know.)
Wow, Cupcake, bad luck with the license plate. To fix that...you might have to, I don't know, develop a celebrity obsession. Off the top of my head, you could get into Jeff Goldblum, Jeff Foxworthy, or Jeffrey from Project Runway. (Yeah, pickings are slim, but we have to work with what you've got.) I figure any way you can get the attention off your stupid ex is a good way to go.
Against my better judgement, I'm going to go ahead and give you the green light on your dinner date. Try to ruin as many other dates with your loud crying as possible! I think you might be onto something with your free dessert plan.
Since you asked, I will be ignoring Sweetest Day to the best of my considerable abilities.
Solitarily yours,
Bitter Amanda
Well, unless you live under a rock or something, you know what Saturday is.
Yes. It is "Bitter-Sweetest Day."
Since I wrote you earlier, my boyfriend broke up with me, so I am now destined to spend "Bitter-Sweetest Day" alone again, naturally. To make matters worse, with my birthday coming up on November 1st, I just got my personalized license plate with "LUVJEFF" on it. I know, I know, stupid move, right? So, now I'm stuck with that for a while. I don't know what I was thinking! I guess I figured we'd be together and get married like we planned to do. I feel so stupid, I don't know what to do?
I came up with this idea though, and want to see what you think, OK?
I made reservations for two on Saturday night at the Ritz, but only I will show up all decked out in my new really short red dress and all. Some people think that a redhead like me can't get away with wearing red, but I'm here to prove them wrong, sister! I already ordered "Bitter-sweetest Day" flowers for myself, to be delivered Saturday morning, since I ALWAYS get flowers on the real you-know-what day. At the Ritz, I'll pretend to be waiting for my boyfriend to show up, occasionaly flashing furtive glances at my watch, and acting all huffy and upset and stuff. But of course no one ever will show up. So, I'll be left there, all alone, all dressed up, nearly in tears. With any luck, I can get a good looking waiter or maitre d' to notice my predicament and maybe get enough sympathy points to get a free meal or dessert, or maybe ... even a date! What do you think?
How are you celebrating "Bittersweetest Day", Amanda. (I won't even try to call you "you-know-what" - I bet you're glad, huh?)
Anyhoo, give me your thoughts, or maybe we could meet up and be bitter together?
Happy Bittersweetest Day,
Cindy Lynn
Dear Cupcake,
Ah yes. Sweetest Day. The most truly loathsome holiday there is. Yes, even worse than Valentine's Day. At least Valentine's Day has some historic roots. Sweetest Day was fabricated entirely by the candy industry, and serves no real purpose. It's just stupid. Apparently, giving couples one day to flaunt their happiness in the faces of others just wasn't enough! (It is at this point that I suspect anyone in a relationship is telling me a couple things. One, that Valentine's Day isn't just for couples! It's for love! Yeah, shut up. That's a lie and we alllllll know it. Two, that just last month, it was National Singles Week! You got a whole week! So what's wrong with two little days? I didn't ASK for a week, you know. I didn't want it. I suspect that week was created to placate the singles; something to bring up around Sweetest Day and Valentine's Day. I see through that, you know.)
Wow, Cupcake, bad luck with the license plate. To fix that...you might have to, I don't know, develop a celebrity obsession. Off the top of my head, you could get into Jeff Goldblum, Jeff Foxworthy, or Jeffrey from Project Runway. (Yeah, pickings are slim, but we have to work with what you've got.) I figure any way you can get the attention off your stupid ex is a good way to go.
Against my better judgement, I'm going to go ahead and give you the green light on your dinner date. Try to ruin as many other dates with your loud crying as possible! I think you might be onto something with your free dessert plan.
Since you asked, I will be ignoring Sweetest Day to the best of my considerable abilities.
Solitarily yours,
Bitter Amanda
Wednesday, October 18, 2006
Dear Van Morrison...
Hi Bitter Amanda.
I've been reading your blog for a couple of weeks and finally decided to chime in.
I watched American Pie III (the one where Band Camp Girl marries "Petey") the other day with a friend of mine and it all hit me when they struck up "Into the Mystic" for the wedding dance. Not only is it one of my favorite songs, it is also on the Moondance album (along with the song of the same name, of course) which is what actually rustled up the memories. Being the Full Harvest Moon of October, as in the song Moondance, I again was made painfully aware that another f-ing year had come and gone without a Moondance - some silly romantic notion of mine that has yet again been dashed mercilessly against the rocky coastline of my earthly existence. Then, that Olive's "Moonlight Chess" deal pushed me over the edge. And I thought I was whacky. Yowzers!
Back to the point. So I'm a guy who always dreamed of a Moondance 'neath the cover of October skies with that special someone. Sounds like a simple enough desire that shouldn't be too GD difficult to fulfill. It is niether weird, nor demented, I believe. Perhaps a bit sappy, but I can live with that.
A few years ago, my computer password was actually "moondance." I had this for at least two years, probably more. There happened to be a lass that I worked with, lets call her Julie for no particular reason, that needed to log into my computer while I was out of town. I had to give her my password by phone, and did so, not being embarrassed as I would be for what it is today. Whether it was or was not true, she proclaimed, "Moondance! Why that is my favorite song." That incident lit the fuse for a short, yet magical, relationship that saw Julie being the catalyst for me filing for divorce. Truly, without Julie showing me what a good relationship could be like, I probably would not have had the guts to cut the ties as swiftly and surely as I did with the then wife.
Naturally, I romanticized about our October (any month would have done) Moondance, which never came. Turns out, Julie was just kind of looking for someone to keep her company while her boyfriend was out of town on business. Also turns out, she reeked of mothballs and insisted on bedtime stories and sleeping with an assortment of very old stuffed animals. I did manage to convince her that squadrons of moths were not planning Pearl Harbor jobs on her ratty sweaters, but the stuffed animal thing could still be going on, for all I know. I imagined that somehow I had drawn her to me through the repetition of and my emotional connection to Moondance! Far fetched? Try this one on for size. I met my future ex in high school. A year before I ever met her or ever even saw her, all I knew was her name. And I was so enthralled by that name that I found myself repeating it over and over and over, trying to figure out who was the enigma behind that haunting name. The next year, she wound up in my homeroom and we were soon dating. We didn't give it up until Julie, not to mention my ex's boyfriend, showed up, years later.
Watch what you ask for! Behold! The power of prayer!
I'm definitely no stranger to the bitter biz. I've gotten to the point of actually hoping for those glorious Detroit Daze when that cold, thick, dank air, that smells like my first chemistry experiment run amok, slides up my nostrils and takes umbrage there. Then, I can truly bask in my abject bitterness and invite it in for a nice hot cup of tea and a plum-blueberry cobbler. Perhaps listen to Dylan's "Time Out of Mind" just to drive the point home, with a melodical, methodological force - them's good times, let me tell you.
I don't know if I can ever give up my ole pal, Bitterness. Now, I don't know if I want to. Bitterness to me is like one of those clingy, needy, old friends that constantly calls asking, "So, how's your day? What's new? How's it going?" and yet has absolutely NOTHING in common with you nor nothing to say, EVER. But they just hang on and on and on and you don't know how to shake 'em.
Strange maybe, but oh, so true!
I may have finally hit rock bottom: I experience real pangs of jealiosity when I see that my lesbian neighbor's girlfriend had spent the night, as evidenced by her SUV in the driveway. I have an attractive, single woman, my age, living a mere two doors away ... only one small catch ... and there always is.
So, in summary, another year, another Harvest Moon gone by, and yet another unfulfilled Moondance.
Yours truly, in Sheer and Utter Bitterness,
Despondent in Dearborn
P.S. Which is worse:
Sheer & Utter Bitterness or Abject Bitterness.
Discuss.
Dear Van Morrison,
I had to read your letter three times before I was able to confirm my initial suspicions. There was no question. So I guess you just wanted my thoughts on the subject. Lucky for all of us, I have opinions aplenty.
A bit sappy? You think you're being a BIT sappy? Whatever you have to tell yourself to feel good about it, I guess. As long as you can live with sounding like a 14 year old girl on the eve of her first Fall Formal dance with the pubescent boy of her dreams.
So "Julie" (forgive my heavy use of airquotes here) screwed you over. Sucks. On the bright side, it sounds like she's got a serious case of crazy, which I'd say you're better off without.
I'm going to do everyone a favor and skip over the parts of your letter in which you obsess over a name and wish for the disgusting scent of Bitter to reside in your nasal cavities. Because I thought they were weird.
Bottom line, Sparky: grow a pair. Get over the ladies who got over you, be a man, and go find some sappy woman to fulfill your sugary-sweet fairy tale. (Gross much?) Looks like the Wild Rover himself is touring as we speak--that might be your best bet.
Solitarily yours,
Bitter Amanda
I've been reading your blog for a couple of weeks and finally decided to chime in.
I watched American Pie III (the one where Band Camp Girl marries "Petey") the other day with a friend of mine and it all hit me when they struck up "Into the Mystic" for the wedding dance. Not only is it one of my favorite songs, it is also on the Moondance album (along with the song of the same name, of course) which is what actually rustled up the memories. Being the Full Harvest Moon of October, as in the song Moondance, I again was made painfully aware that another f-ing year had come and gone without a Moondance - some silly romantic notion of mine that has yet again been dashed mercilessly against the rocky coastline of my earthly existence. Then, that Olive's "Moonlight Chess" deal pushed me over the edge. And I thought I was whacky. Yowzers!
Back to the point. So I'm a guy who always dreamed of a Moondance 'neath the cover of October skies with that special someone. Sounds like a simple enough desire that shouldn't be too GD difficult to fulfill. It is niether weird, nor demented, I believe. Perhaps a bit sappy, but I can live with that.
A few years ago, my computer password was actually "moondance." I had this for at least two years, probably more. There happened to be a lass that I worked with, lets call her Julie for no particular reason, that needed to log into my computer while I was out of town. I had to give her my password by phone, and did so, not being embarrassed as I would be for what it is today. Whether it was or was not true, she proclaimed, "Moondance! Why that is my favorite song." That incident lit the fuse for a short, yet magical, relationship that saw Julie being the catalyst for me filing for divorce. Truly, without Julie showing me what a good relationship could be like, I probably would not have had the guts to cut the ties as swiftly and surely as I did with the then wife.
Naturally, I romanticized about our October (any month would have done) Moondance, which never came. Turns out, Julie was just kind of looking for someone to keep her company while her boyfriend was out of town on business. Also turns out, she reeked of mothballs and insisted on bedtime stories and sleeping with an assortment of very old stuffed animals. I did manage to convince her that squadrons of moths were not planning Pearl Harbor jobs on her ratty sweaters, but the stuffed animal thing could still be going on, for all I know. I imagined that somehow I had drawn her to me through the repetition of and my emotional connection to Moondance! Far fetched? Try this one on for size. I met my future ex in high school. A year before I ever met her or ever even saw her, all I knew was her name. And I was so enthralled by that name that I found myself repeating it over and over and over, trying to figure out who was the enigma behind that haunting name. The next year, she wound up in my homeroom and we were soon dating. We didn't give it up until Julie, not to mention my ex's boyfriend, showed up, years later.
Watch what you ask for! Behold! The power of prayer!
I'm definitely no stranger to the bitter biz. I've gotten to the point of actually hoping for those glorious Detroit Daze when that cold, thick, dank air, that smells like my first chemistry experiment run amok, slides up my nostrils and takes umbrage there. Then, I can truly bask in my abject bitterness and invite it in for a nice hot cup of tea and a plum-blueberry cobbler. Perhaps listen to Dylan's "Time Out of Mind" just to drive the point home, with a melodical, methodological force - them's good times, let me tell you.
I don't know if I can ever give up my ole pal, Bitterness. Now, I don't know if I want to. Bitterness to me is like one of those clingy, needy, old friends that constantly calls asking, "So, how's your day? What's new? How's it going?" and yet has absolutely NOTHING in common with you nor nothing to say, EVER. But they just hang on and on and on and you don't know how to shake 'em.
Strange maybe, but oh, so true!
I may have finally hit rock bottom: I experience real pangs of jealiosity when I see that my lesbian neighbor's girlfriend had spent the night, as evidenced by her SUV in the driveway. I have an attractive, single woman, my age, living a mere two doors away ... only one small catch ... and there always is.
So, in summary, another year, another Harvest Moon gone by, and yet another unfulfilled Moondance.
Yours truly, in Sheer and Utter Bitterness,
Despondent in Dearborn
P.S. Which is worse:
Sheer & Utter Bitterness or Abject Bitterness.
Discuss.
Dear Van Morrison,
I had to read your letter three times before I was able to confirm my initial suspicions. There was no question. So I guess you just wanted my thoughts on the subject. Lucky for all of us, I have opinions aplenty.
A bit sappy? You think you're being a BIT sappy? Whatever you have to tell yourself to feel good about it, I guess. As long as you can live with sounding like a 14 year old girl on the eve of her first Fall Formal dance with the pubescent boy of her dreams.
So "Julie" (forgive my heavy use of airquotes here) screwed you over. Sucks. On the bright side, it sounds like she's got a serious case of crazy, which I'd say you're better off without.
I'm going to do everyone a favor and skip over the parts of your letter in which you obsess over a name and wish for the disgusting scent of Bitter to reside in your nasal cavities. Because I thought they were weird.
Bottom line, Sparky: grow a pair. Get over the ladies who got over you, be a man, and go find some sappy woman to fulfill your sugary-sweet fairy tale. (Gross much?) Looks like the Wild Rover himself is touring as we speak--that might be your best bet.
Solitarily yours,
Bitter Amanda
Friday, October 06, 2006
Dear Tri-Lam...
Dear Bitter Amanda,
Just like all you "hip" girls want to have fun, I'm here to say that all the nerdy guys in Advanced Calculus and the Chess Club just want to have fun 2!
But all we get is abuse. Snubbed like a bottom caste Cashew picker in the Punjab. Ridiculed because of our heavily taped, Coke-bottle glasses, which are truly symbolic of our nerdly, innate ability to peer deeply into the mysteries of the universe. But why don't hot girls find us interesting? What's more interesting than the mysteries of the Universe?
There is plenty of humor in the Advanced Sciences, but no hot girls smart enough to get it. Like, Albert Einstein walks into a bar, bellies up, and what does he say to the bartender? I have NEVER had a cool girl laugh when I tell her the punchline: "Ein stein, bitte!" Meaning, one glass of beer, please – in German. How is that NOT humorous?
Or like, "How do you make a relativistic physicist blush?" Punchline: "Why, run away from him very quickly, of course!" Duh! Doppler Red shift! Get it? I didn't think so. No one does.
But I did manage to have kind of a date with some sort of pagan girl - a porcelain skinned princess with long black hair, and lipstick to match. Quite striking really. We started to hit it off at a local cafe, talking about the stars and planets and, well, the mysteries of the Universe. I was enthralled! At long last, I thought, a female on my own wavelength, resonating with me at a deep, inner place. Then she began speaking of Uranus being in conjunction with the moon and I thought now I'd hit the jackpot! Attractive and intelligent - a pre-med major! Then I realized that she was talking of astrology, while I thought anatomy! Well that ended it for me. Probably just another tufty-pitted pagan anyway, no doubt.
My friend Chad and I thought to crash a Young Republicans meeting, disguised as economists. We figured that we could put our superior mathematical skills to good use, since economics is rather suburban in comparison to our Point Set Topology majors. We began mingling and were given some rather durl and dauer looks when we tried to pass as economists. Evidently, due to our lack of worldliness in the socio-politcal culture of U of M, we failed to realize that here, economist is equivalent to communist! Thus, our white shirts and neckties were a dead giveaway of our disguise. We were advised by a high heeled, and opinionated, business major that, as economists at this venerable University, we should be in fatigues handing out SPARK magazines on the Diag. The communist girls are just as bad as the pagans with the pits and stuff, so there is another whole class of female that is off my list. What's up with this tufty business around here anyway? Get a dang weed-whacker and get it over with already, gosh almighty!
So again, humiliated by the fair sex in yet another failed attempt to fit in with NORMAL, cool girls who do shave their armpits. Recently, my friend Chad and I calculated that the mapping between the imaginary integers and the number of imaginary girlfriends a nerd will have in a four year college career is homeomorphic, both one-to-one and onto, in laymans terms. Meaning simply that we are SOL where the babes are concerned. But that is just more BORING point set topology. I bet you didn't even notice the correlation of this with my email address, did you? I am a complex person with both real and imaginary parts that all need to meet up with a like-mined female and be whisked off to infinity on the asymptote of Love!
So alas, Bitter-A, I write to you as a most embittered nerd: what's a nerd to do to get a cool girl to date him – or at least not ridicule and humiliate him?
In real and imaginary bitterness,
Charles
Dear Tri-Lam,
If you don't know what I'm talking about, a) shame on you! And b) google that immediately.
I can see that you've had some bad experiences with women. On behalf of all of us, I'd like to apologize, even though you were a bit of a condescending asshole in your letter. (Don't assume a lady knows nothing of science jokes!)
You told me that your interests were boring--you can't really believe that, can you? Otherwise, you'd find new ones. Stop thinking that you're a loser! People react to the image you project--if you walk around like you're a happening dude, ladies will see that. If you walk around like a hot girl would never lower herself to talk to you, guess what? They won't. Be confident!
Also, you don't have to have the same interests to get along with someone--so what if she's more into astrology than calculus? Maybe she likes that you're a math guy. Maybe she has some cool things to say. Don't write someone off just because you don't share the same major.
There are lots of awesome ladies out there looking for a nice guy--so stop spending your Friday nights mapping out girlfriend equations with Chad and go meet some actual girls!
Best of luck, Einstein.
Solitarily yours,
Bitter Amanda
Just like all you "hip" girls want to have fun, I'm here to say that all the nerdy guys in Advanced Calculus and the Chess Club just want to have fun 2!
But all we get is abuse. Snubbed like a bottom caste Cashew picker in the Punjab. Ridiculed because of our heavily taped, Coke-bottle glasses, which are truly symbolic of our nerdly, innate ability to peer deeply into the mysteries of the universe. But why don't hot girls find us interesting? What's more interesting than the mysteries of the Universe?
There is plenty of humor in the Advanced Sciences, but no hot girls smart enough to get it. Like, Albert Einstein walks into a bar, bellies up, and what does he say to the bartender? I have NEVER had a cool girl laugh when I tell her the punchline: "Ein stein, bitte!" Meaning, one glass of beer, please – in German. How is that NOT humorous?
Or like, "How do you make a relativistic physicist blush?" Punchline: "Why, run away from him very quickly, of course!" Duh! Doppler Red shift! Get it? I didn't think so. No one does.
But I did manage to have kind of a date with some sort of pagan girl - a porcelain skinned princess with long black hair, and lipstick to match. Quite striking really. We started to hit it off at a local cafe, talking about the stars and planets and, well, the mysteries of the Universe. I was enthralled! At long last, I thought, a female on my own wavelength, resonating with me at a deep, inner place. Then she began speaking of Uranus being in conjunction with the moon and I thought now I'd hit the jackpot! Attractive and intelligent - a pre-med major! Then I realized that she was talking of astrology, while I thought anatomy! Well that ended it for me. Probably just another tufty-pitted pagan anyway, no doubt.
My friend Chad and I thought to crash a Young Republicans meeting, disguised as economists. We figured that we could put our superior mathematical skills to good use, since economics is rather suburban in comparison to our Point Set Topology majors. We began mingling and were given some rather durl and dauer looks when we tried to pass as economists. Evidently, due to our lack of worldliness in the socio-politcal culture of U of M, we failed to realize that here, economist is equivalent to communist! Thus, our white shirts and neckties were a dead giveaway of our disguise. We were advised by a high heeled, and opinionated, business major that, as economists at this venerable University, we should be in fatigues handing out SPARK magazines on the Diag. The communist girls are just as bad as the pagans with the pits and stuff, so there is another whole class of female that is off my list. What's up with this tufty business around here anyway? Get a dang weed-whacker and get it over with already, gosh almighty!
So again, humiliated by the fair sex in yet another failed attempt to fit in with NORMAL, cool girls who do shave their armpits. Recently, my friend Chad and I calculated that the mapping between the imaginary integers and the number of imaginary girlfriends a nerd will have in a four year college career is homeomorphic, both one-to-one and onto, in laymans terms. Meaning simply that we are SOL where the babes are concerned. But that is just more BORING point set topology. I bet you didn't even notice the correlation of this with my email address, did you? I am a complex person with both real and imaginary parts that all need to meet up with a like-mined female and be whisked off to infinity on the asymptote of Love!
So alas, Bitter-A, I write to you as a most embittered nerd: what's a nerd to do to get a cool girl to date him – or at least not ridicule and humiliate him?
In real and imaginary bitterness,
Charles
Dear Tri-Lam,
If you don't know what I'm talking about, a) shame on you! And b) google that immediately.
I can see that you've had some bad experiences with women. On behalf of all of us, I'd like to apologize, even though you were a bit of a condescending asshole in your letter. (Don't assume a lady knows nothing of science jokes!)
You told me that your interests were boring--you can't really believe that, can you? Otherwise, you'd find new ones. Stop thinking that you're a loser! People react to the image you project--if you walk around like you're a happening dude, ladies will see that. If you walk around like a hot girl would never lower herself to talk to you, guess what? They won't. Be confident!
Also, you don't have to have the same interests to get along with someone--so what if she's more into astrology than calculus? Maybe she likes that you're a math guy. Maybe she has some cool things to say. Don't write someone off just because you don't share the same major.
There are lots of awesome ladies out there looking for a nice guy--so stop spending your Friday nights mapping out girlfriend equations with Chad and go meet some actual girls!
Best of luck, Einstein.
Solitarily yours,
Bitter Amanda
Dear Mommy...
Dear Bitter Amanda,
I'm writing to you because I know my wife is a big fan of your column. I don't really know how to explain this, but my she keeps putting pictures of STDs EVERYWHERE. Today, I went to use the computer and chlamydia was staring me in the face. More importantly, she keeps pictures of stds in her wallet where the pictures of our kids should be. You know, the pocket sized ones? It's affecting our kids. They can't reach in their lunchboxes without pulling out herpes. The teachers are worried, and so am I. Our little baby said her first words the other day- they were "infectious disease." Worse, it's affecting me. Help me, Bitter Amanda. If she doesn't stop, not only will our kids become bitter, but I'll become bitter too! Now I'm scared of having sex. What if I get genital warts? I'm afraid that if I can never have sex again, I'm headed down a path of dark, cold bitterness. Help. I don't want to trade my red heart for a scary black!
-The other mommy.
Dear Mommy,
Your baby's first words were "infectious disease"?? That's amazing! Quite the little smarty-pants you have there!
I remember your wife's letter to me. (Check it out here.) That ought to explain the pictures of STDs. But I fear that in her quest to keep your children safe, she may have been a bit overzealous and gone overboard. It happens. You should talk to her about toning it down a little. (Especially that wallet thing. Weird.)
Now about you. Are you having an affair? Sleeping around? Is your wife?
No?
Well then, calm the hell down! Unless your wife has genital warts, having sex with her won't lead to them. You're a grown adult and you should know this stuff! Damn.
Solitarily yours,
Bitter Amanda
I'm writing to you because I know my wife is a big fan of your column. I don't really know how to explain this, but my she keeps putting pictures of STDs EVERYWHERE. Today, I went to use the computer and chlamydia was staring me in the face. More importantly, she keeps pictures of stds in her wallet where the pictures of our kids should be. You know, the pocket sized ones? It's affecting our kids. They can't reach in their lunchboxes without pulling out herpes. The teachers are worried, and so am I. Our little baby said her first words the other day- they were "infectious disease." Worse, it's affecting me. Help me, Bitter Amanda. If she doesn't stop, not only will our kids become bitter, but I'll become bitter too! Now I'm scared of having sex. What if I get genital warts? I'm afraid that if I can never have sex again, I'm headed down a path of dark, cold bitterness. Help. I don't want to trade my red heart for a scary black!
-The other mommy.
Dear Mommy,
Your baby's first words were "infectious disease"?? That's amazing! Quite the little smarty-pants you have there!
I remember your wife's letter to me. (Check it out here.) That ought to explain the pictures of STDs. But I fear that in her quest to keep your children safe, she may have been a bit overzealous and gone overboard. It happens. You should talk to her about toning it down a little. (Especially that wallet thing. Weird.)
Now about you. Are you having an affair? Sleeping around? Is your wife?
No?
Well then, calm the hell down! Unless your wife has genital warts, having sex with her won't lead to them. You're a grown adult and you should know this stuff! Damn.
Solitarily yours,
Bitter Amanda
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