AG has asked for advice from all kinds of artists, famous nationally and locally. One is even a puppet. Here is some of the wisdom we’ve received throughout the years.
My boyfriend’s ALWAYS late to stuff and it’s really annoying. Like there’s that joke “Tell ‘Jake’ that dinner is at 5 when it’s really at 6. It’s frustrating and embarrassing and I’ve pleaded with him to manage his time better, but he won’t. Is this a deal breaker? Is there anything I can do to make him understand how important punctuality is to me?
Tell your man that for every minute he’s late, that’s how many days he’s going without dat pussy. If he’s STILL a late piece of shit then it ain’t gonna work out anyway cuz he doesn’t like your pussy that much. — Guantanamo Baywatch (October 2013)
I just wrote a song and put my ex- girlfriend’s name right in it. And I would change it except that it rhymes perfectly and just fits right into the lyrics, melody, etc. It’s perfect. Should I risk it and keep it in or find a different name?
This is a crossroads for every songwriter to come to. My child, you have a decision to make. I would say there’s some things to consider. What is the context in which you mention her? Is it along the lines of “Damn that girl was crazy and I hate her guts”? If so, that’s not classy and you gotta be more creative. Don’t end up like Eminem. Songs are meant to express our emotions, but if you got that rage I think it’s best to change the name and get it out in a more productive way. With my song “Daniella,” I just couldn’t change the name, so I tried to write about the troubles my old friend and I went through in a way that would be fair to both of us. However, if it’s meant with good intentions and about the love you once shared or are possibly still feeling, I think it can make a really amazing, truthful song. She will probably be flattered no matter what; think about how that Frenchie Michelle feels about the song Paul McCartney wrote about her! —Alynda Lee Segarra of Hurray for the Riff Raff (March 2013)
One of my friends is having a very public divorce on Facebook and it’s very awkward. But it’s like one of those car wrecks you can’t look away from either, so I haven’t unsubscribed from their posts. So I feel guilty about that, too. What should I do?
The reason your friend is getting so public about it is because that person needs some ass—and so does their spouse. They used to hate fuck each other in bed and now they are doing it on Facebook, and turning you into a freaky peeping tom. So they need a real friend like you to take them out, get them drunk and convince them to fuck each other one last time in the alley behind the bar to get it over with—while you videotape them from the dumpster. Then, when they renew their vows two weeks later in front of an Elvis impersonator, give them the video as a wedding present. Just be sure to clean it off first, you freak. —Blowfly (January 2013)
I work downtown and have a crush on a girl that works in an adjacent building. It’s crazy: I can see her from across the street and she’s so beautiful, but it’s one of those “fairy tale story but creepy in real life” kind of situations. How can I meet this girl without sounding like a voyeur?
Are you a French Quarter cook? There is a guy who sits in a restaurant and watches a friend of mine on the daily. Honestly, if she looks back and smiles he’s waiting. Rest assure, creepy can be far from cute. Don’t follow her to her car, house or neighborhood grocery. There is nothing creepier than a winker, tongue flicker or eyebrow raiser. If you don’t know someone who works in the building, then my friend, there is only one solution. GROW SOME BALLS! The last time we speculated we ended up invading Iraq on a quest for weapons of mass destruction. Your love could be that weapon! She might be dreaming of you, my man. What’s wrong with approaching her in a non-creepy way (i.e., “hi my name is”)? Please, whatever you do, don’t tell her you’ve been “watching her” on some Police type ish. Mysterious is hot, but shady is not. Approach her on what appears to be her worst day by far, sans roses. Mean it when you tell her that she is beautiful, but don’t expect a response or a fairytale right away. If she’s single and you’ll know if she is or wants to be, she’ll make it a point to walk your way. —Charm Taylor of The Honorable South (June 2012)
My girlfriend is one of those people who order totally ridiculous coffee drinks, like a half decalf soy latte with a shot of hazelnut, etc. etc. It’s really annoying because I drink my shit black with a little milk, creamer, whatever and it’s embarrassing to order when I’m on a run. Would it be rude if I just refused to bring her coffee until she simplifies her coffee tastes?
Yes, it would be but I guess it depends on if you really like her or not. Me, if I really like her I would get her the ridiculous coffee because you never know, a month or a year later she might wind up having sex with one of your buddies and her excuse might be “You never loved me because of that time I asked you to get the hazzlenut cappacino frappee blueberry swirl and you wouldn’t do it.” So to avoid all of that I’d get the damn coffee because you know someone else is going to. —Dummy Dumpster (May 2012)
At what point should someone of adult age move out of their parents’ house?
Hmmm, seems like such an easy question, however, there’s so many ever-changing variables to actually answer this correctly. If you are the freeloading punk that’s living off the never-ending parental bank account and neither one of them is as much as mumbling a word or complaining: milk that bastard golden goose til it’s dried, mummified and withered to the death. Nothing beats a free bed and wireless internet. On the other hand, if you’re the Mom and Pop grain & supply house, feeding your 43 year-old Selena Gomez fan pervert son-in-law scrambled eggs and Cheerios eight to ten days a week, it’s time to kick him and your lazy ass daughter that he’s married to OUT! Bottom line—benefits to the benefactor. —Mike IX Williams (February 2012)
I’m a nite owl and my girlfriend is an early bird… needless to say, this is causing a few problems, namely we wake each other up a lot and don’t get to spend as much time together as we’d like. What can we do to coexist peacefully (and awake)?
Absence makes the heart grow fonder. If that doesn’t work, don’t be so fucking lazy. Wake up and get some early stuff. You know, wake and bake, in a way. Separate beds work pretty good, too. You can get some sleep and you can get some strange in a different bed. Fun and safe! It can work: just work on it, and beneath it, and behind it. —Dave Slut (July 2011)
I think my girlfriend gave me genital herpes. I just had a disgusting red thing pop up on my penis and I can’t think of another way I’d have gotten it. It’s been years since I’ve been with anybody else, and I think everything’s going okay with my girl—I don’t want to seem like I’m accusing her of anything, but what do I do?
Okay, then what can I do to help you out with that? If you want the herpes to be remove? Try getting your lovely girlfriend to suck up the herpes from a straw, instead of your hallow semenless hideous looking penis. I have never tried it before, since I don’t have genital herpes/warts. Scientifically I don’t know of any medical research to back up this claim. It never hurts to try and YOU might be the first to eradicate genital herpes by trying this alternative medical method. I am assuming you are seeking out personal revenge from making this a public issue about your cock and her maybe thinking your not the love of her life anymore. If I ever got genital herpes then I would rip my scrotum off my crouch and hid in a cave in ashamed from what I got, like an incurable plague. You are a dumb bollock and to avoid it all together then you should have worn a vegan condom you cheap soul. I hope that little excitement in your life was worth it? Suggestion reading. Somebody last week, just gave me copy of a book he put out that would help rid yourself of the misery and the worthless dick you now have. Max Tilmann: Já não há maçãs no paraíso. Stroke this, you dick! —Robb Roemershauser (June 2009)
I got offered a decent job in Metairie and now I’m just trying to decide if I should take it. I don’t know if I can handle that commute every day and I definitely don’t want to move out there. But the money is pretty good and it would be good for my resume. Should I take the job or short of that, do you have any good secret routes from Uptown to West Esplanade and Clearview?
In this economy?! You got to be kidding, take the job and start screwing up immediately, if nothing else. I mean, being late and leaving early is the solution to the commuting problem. I can tell from here that you already have one foot out the door, and you haven’t even taken the job yet… uh, how long you figure you got to stay to fatten that resume? I guess it’s pretty fat already, since YOU got the offer. Screw that father of six who’s been unemployed for two years and was willing to commute from Gonzales, where the family evacuated to and never could return… he was only their second choice and he will get his chance when you run away to that fantasy job you have really been waiting for, when it suddenly, finally arrives! By the way, I totally respect you for not wanting to move to Metairie. The horror… —Ray Bong (May 2011)
Is it okay for a man to cry? A bunch of friends (men and women) were sitting around talking about it one day and there was a lot of heated discussion about it. No one could agree and opinions were spread across both sides. So, what do you think?
A man should only cry two times in his life. When you lose your virginityness, and when someone sprays you with crying-pepper. If you cry for any other reason but those two things than that just means that you got pure bitchness in your heart. Who are these friends that sit around telling you all kind of fake shit? You should find new friends that don’t lie to you. If you paid me 5 dollars a week I would be your friend and teach you how to be a man. Meet me at Oakwood at 6 o’clock on Thursdays. —Lil Doogie (November 2010)
I want a baby. I can feel it in my bones (and my ovaries). Now is definitely not the time (me: mid 20s, shitty job, no money, no boyfriend, etc.) but still I find myself lost in the baby section of Target or getting all queazy inside when somebody walks by with their kids or plenty of other situations like it. What’s wrong with me?
Okay, baby advice from a guy. Great. Well, here goes. nothing is wrong with you. If you want a baby, have a baby. Mid-20s? Perfect time. No money? Join the club. Shitty job? You get to quit it for a bit. No boyfriend? Well, this might be a problem. Maybe not, I don’t know you and your sex habits. Look, babies cost a lot of money. They shit and piss themselves constantly and puke all over themselves all the time. Date an alcoholic for a month and then see if you still want a baby. If you do, handle your business. Do it right. There’re enough idiots in the world. Don’t add to it. Otherwise, you may just need a good hobby to take your mind off of it. Take up guitar or something. I know where you could get one cheap… —Paul Webb (June 2010)
I’m trying to quit smoking, and everyone’s been going around talking about this “smokeless cigarette” and I’m wondering if it works at all? It sounds kind of stupid and complicated to me but I really want to quit smoking and let’s just say I like quitting so much I keep doing it—(corny joke my dad used to make). Should I go out and buy this fake electric cigarette or do you have any other good suggestions for quitting?
This one’s a no-brainer. Let me paint a picture for you: You are joining your likewise nicotine-addicted friends as they congregate in the smoking section out on the fringes of a bustling social affair. They all tap out their cigarettes— don’t ask me why, but I’m thinking you run with the Virginia Slim crowd—and they light up and draw in that first lung-full and the glassine reflections in their eyes can be compared only to the glazed-over look of post-coital reverie. It shows you why smoking was invented in the first place. And then there’s you. You and your smokeless cigarette. Of course, you could have stayed inside to partake of this novelty since it produces no second-hand smoke, but at least you realize that half the joy of smoking is the communal gregariousness that develops among fellow smokers—the Darwinian bond of pariahs, misfits and outcasts. Thus, while everyone’s senses return them to the material world after that first puff, their attention falls on you, as you finger and caress your smokeless cigarette and—though your intentions are admirable, and who doesn’t want to live?—the group consensus is that you look like an absolute moron. A total dipshit. A Class-1 buzzkiller. At this moment, quickly take a look in the mirror and reflect—literally—upon what it is you are doing and why you are doing it. And then quit dicking around and either smoke or don’t, but please: quit making everyone else wonder just what the fuck is wrong with you. —Chris Rose (January 2010)
What’s your advice on “earning your red wings?” My girlfriend threatened to cut me off from the oral if I don’t get mine, but holy hell I’m not sure I can do it.
Skwirl: I forgot about that term. That’s a big step. How old are you? There are a lot of women who are shy about it. You should be privileged for the opportunity. If you can make the bad times better for ya girl…by damn do it! It’s right up there with the Purple Heart. You should throw down a towel and take one for the team.
Adele: My advice is to close your eyes and dive on in while pretending that it’s a rare filet mignon at the steak house of your choice (without chewing of course). Who likes their meat well done anyway? (April 2008)
My boyfriend gets absolutely apoplectic when the Saints lose— a too-often occurrence these days. I’m never too happy myself when they wind up with the “L,” but he’s inconsolable for the rest of the day and sometimes for the better part of a week. What can I do to snap him out of it?
It’s no secret that the Saints have the greatest fans in football. It’s really the reason the Saints must also lose so much. It’s the mystery of New Orleans. One day New Orleans is the most creative, fun livin’ you could ever ask for and the next you’re under a pile of skulls. That said, I think in some strange way the Saints and their fans live vicariously through each other. They would love another excuse to burn down buildings and flip over cop cars, and I know that one day our grandchildren’s grandchildren will be able to do that when they win the Super Bowl. For now why don’t you just try to be a little more of a team player, Julie??? Look, here’s what you do: get a paper bag (I’m sure it wouldn’t be the first time) and put it on your head. Crack open a Natti-Light and let your man get in your END ZONE!!! —King Louie (December 2007)
Is it ever okay to tattoo someone’s name on your body?
That’s a tough question for me, because I’m scared to death of needles and I do not like needle-inflicted pain. I can barely stand getting a flu shot, much less a tattoo! On the other hand, tattoo artists are artists and need our support to continue their craft. Who is this person anyway, who you want to brand yourself with for LIFE? Unless it’s “Mama,” I don’t think you need someone’s name on your skin, sweetie. How about a nice tattoo of James Brown instead? JB is forever. —DJ Soul Sister (November 2007)