Friday, February 22, 2008

Q&A Friday!

Some might call this snow in New York a nice little treat, a reminder of how beautiful winter weather can be and how much I will miss it when I move to Miami. And, truthfully, I kind of felt it when I woke up this morning. Brooke got out of bed first and opened up the curtains, and as I rolled over in our creaky, devil of a pull-out couch, the sight of pure white drift piled up on trees and tables and chairs was kind of inspiring. We opened up the door to the back yard and Puppy approached it, looking up at us with his signature Concerned Face like, “FIRST YOU TOOK AWAY ALL THE FURNITURE, AND NOW THIS?” So we kicked him out the door and watched him romp around. It was a proud moment, one that made me all the more skeptical about having babies – because from what I understand you can’t do things like this with them, at least not without buying them a snow suit and dressing them in a snow suit and, ugh it just seems like so much work.

So when I wandered out onto the quiet Brooklyn streets this morning, I thought, “Yeah, I will miss this a little.” Then I got off the subway at Wall St. and it was like someone pulled the rug out from under me. Slush, dirty slush, everywhere. Sleet coming down, landing with heavy, wet thuds right on top of your ear. Huge chunks of snow falling down off scaffolding onto your shoulder. Construction workers sweeping the snowy, sludgy mix towards the sewer drains. It was horrific: a winter wonderland on crack. You could just imagine Mother Nature and Mayor Bloomberg high five-ing and laughing it up, like, “I can’t believe this douche bag actually bought it! He thought it would be PRETTY. HAHAHA!”

On to Miami.

On to the questions.

I know that there is a general consensus that talking during a movie (especially at theater) is a major no no, and all that partake in this action deserve whatever cruel punishment is given to them, but I have an all-new problem. How should one handle a person who chooses to dance in their seat, through the entire movie, because the soundtrack is "rockin’?" Not only is one disturbed by any noises but also ones eyes must be disgustingly drawn to the figure in the theater that gets a groove on during every action seen where the music is upbeat. I would like advice on how to be politely insistent on stopping one from conducting this disturbing behavior and also, a non-polite way incase the person is “non-English” understanding. Thanks!

S.T.
Washington State

Just so you know, I’m really behind on my Q&A Friday questions. This is from like July. Luckily, it’s a timeless problem. Rumor has it that even during Shakespeare’s times, audiences were constantly disturbed by uncontrollable dancing. And the music in Shakespeare’s plays sucked! Imagine then how hard it must be for a man imbued with rhythm and groove to resist Flo Rida dropping the beat in Step Up 2 the Streets.

Personally, I’ve never been great with confrontation. I once waited an extra month to break up with a girl because I wanted to do it over the phone while she was in Spain. So in movie theaters, I usually employ the “Stare and shake my head” tactic if the person is in front of me, or the “Half look over my shoulder and shake me head” if the person is behind me. One time I asked an elderly couple sitting next to me to stop talking to each other so loudly, and I felt bad about it because it was likely just that they were going deaf, but I was confident that I could take down grandpa if it came to blows.

For a movie-seat dancer, it’s a bit more difficult because they may not understand that what they are doing is wrong. “But dancing makes me feel so good!” they’ll say innocently. So what you need is a good excuse for why they can’t dance – something way better than “It bothers me.” I would try this: Lean over to the person and say, “Excuse me, but could you please stop dancing in your seat? My friend here is deaf, and she can’t hear the film through all your movement.” It has all the qualities a great lie possesses: it’s confusing, it’s sympathetic and it can’t be proved wrong.
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Oh Dan, Dan, Dan,

Please help me! My boyfriend of 7 1/2 years broke up with me without any explanation besides he was "unhappy". A month prior the our breaking up. he told me he had purchased an engagement ring (for me) and was going to propose to me at any moment. Then, all of a sudden, he's gone. Now he's dating a "friend" of his from work. I can't get over it!!! All I think about is the jackass and the new whore (Not that I'm implying I was the old whore). How do I get past the breakup? Help me, Dan Murphy, you're my only hope.

Thanks for your attention,
Brenda

Wow, I feel pretty bad. This one’s from the beginning of December. It pains me to think that poor Brenda has been relying on me for guidance, and every day she has sat down in front of her computer and refreshed my blog and instead of answers she’s gotten self-indulgent rants and semi-coherent observational humor. (I fear I just got a glimpse into fatherhood.)

Anyway, let’s get down to business. First of all, you need to start spending more money on your boyfriends. Like fine scotch glasses and cashmere sweaters, you can’t get your boyfriends at Target. 7½ years and then one day he’s “unhappy” – actually, I can accept that. Not that it’s right, but let’s face it: People need to make themselves happy. Would you really want to be with him if he was miserable? Like that aptly titled movie, “Misery”? Of course not. And if he’s too immature to realize that one doesn’t find true happiness in the shaved vagina of one’s slutty co-worker, well that’s a lesson you need to learn with your doctor and a penis swab.

What I have a problem with is that he told you that he was going to propose to you. I mean, Huh? Who says, “I’m going to propose to you”? Isn’t that like saying, “I’m going to throw you a surprise party”? Why not just say, “I’m going to break up with you”? Regardless, he’s what Brooke would call “an asshole” (Brooke uses the same words as everyone else). And the only way to get over relationships with assholes is to sleep with a bunch of black guys.

(Brenda, Facebook me in times of need. I’m a good listener, and I have some black friends, too.)
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Dan,

I recently found myself at a party in a hotel room with about 45 women, including my girlfriend (who is hot) – I was the only man there.

We did not hook up with any of them for our first threesome. Does this mean that it’s never going to happen?

Best regards,
Simon

Because economics and sex go hand in hand (and I know so little about both), let me try to explain it thusly:

When the supply vastly outweighs the demand, you have what is called a surplus. A surplus is the ideal market for buyers, because when all the demand has been satisfied, there is still a supply left which needs to be sold. This overstock can then be had at a steep discount.

So basically that night in the hotel room was the perfect storm of economic surplus. It would be like if Christmas was canceled on December 20th, and every tree salesman was left with a lot full of Douglass Firs and you were the only one on the lot with him, and it just so happens that you’re a hobbyist wood-sculptor. Right place, right time, right everything. All you’d need to do is back up a flatbed and load them on, one by one, and count yourself blessed.

The problem is, there’s also something called “The Law of Diminishing Returns,” which states that if one factor of production is increased while the others remain unchanged, the overall returns will decrease after a certain point. So up until this point, you’ve been widdling away on one stump at a time. Carving raccoons, gnomes, bird houses, what have you. Suddenly, you’ve got 30 yards of lumber in your back yard and a stack of purchase orders to match. But it’s still just you sitting on your back porch widdling away while listening to Willie Nelson tunes. So while you’re footing the bill for the lumber and the flatbed truck and the extra lot you had to rent to store all the Douglas Firs, the fact remains you simply can’t widdle any faster than you could when it was just that one log.

The point being, just put on some Willie Nelson and fuck your girlfriend and consider yourself blessed, because you’re not a businessman, Simon. You’re a hobbyist. And there’s nothing wrong with that.

(Think you’ve got what it takes to have a question? Email me at redactedblog@gmail.com)

11 Comments:

Blogger j said...

Wow, two "jokes" about fatherhood in one post - if I were Brooke, I'd be checking to make sure somebody hasn't been replacing my Yaz with candy.

February 22, 2008 at 3:36:00 PM EST  
Blogger Sarah said...

Seriously, that threesome analogy was really insightful!! I'm not even joking! I'm actually shocked! (no offense)

February 22, 2008 at 3:46:00 PM EST  
Blogger Painkiller Jane said...

I swear to God, I laughed my ass off at, "And the only way to get over relationships with assholes is to sleep with a bunch of black guys."

That MIGHT BE the best advice ever given.

February 22, 2008 at 5:56:00 PM EST  
Blogger k. said...

i like that this post included both snowsuits and sex while listening to willie nelson. just a tops q & a friday all around.

February 22, 2008 at 6:25:00 PM EST  
Blogger Green said...

Dan when you wrote about kicking Puppy out into the snow to play it reminded me of something. In South Florida, there are frogs that are popular there - they are poisonous if eaten, bitten, licked, etc. by dogs and cats. Keep Puppy on a leash.

February 22, 2008 at 10:01:00 PM EST  
Blogger Johnny Virgil said...

I loved the douglas fir analogy. But in order to satisfy my anal-retentive tendencies, I have to point out that it's "whittle."

February 23, 2008 at 12:41:00 AM EST  
Blogger Dr. Kenneth Noisewater said...

Just for you, I'm going to put on some Willie, and rail my girlfriend, with my willie.

February 24, 2008 at 3:51:00 PM EST  
Anonymous You can call me, 'Sir' said...

Why are you not teaching economics? Seriously. That explanation was, like, 2-years worth of a bachelor's degree.

February 25, 2008 at 9:40:00 AM EST  
Blogger HomeImprovementNinja said...

I'll be in South Florida in a few weeks visting family. We should meet up and drink (since being around my family always makes me want to get drunk in order to numb the pain that comes from never having experienced unconditional love).

By the way, I mean "drink" in the irish sense of the word, not the gay sense of it. I'm completely hetero (except for one questionable sweater that I still maintain is "euro").

February 25, 2008 at 4:14:00 PM EST  
Blogger A Lil' Irish Lass said...

Florida IS the new New York. You were totally right.

February 27, 2008 at 12:10:00 PM EST  
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December 11, 2008 at 2:50:00 AM EST  

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