Are you the kind of person who gets asked for advice at all times of the day and night, and you give a long, thoughtful, heartfelt answer even if you are not in the mood, or you feel like shit, or you have PMS, or you are asleep, but you do it anyway because you are extremely kind and a helper of people, and the advisee continually says, “I agree!” and “That’s sooo true!” and “The dirty bastards!” all while you are advising them, and at the end the advisee says, “Thank you sooo much, that’s exactly what I needed to hear!”, but then he or she turns right around and does the exact opposite of what you advised?
Not just once or twice, but every single fecking time?
And not just one or two people, but every single fecking idiot you have ever known in your entire life?
And no matter how feckingly stupid the question is in the first place?
RING, RING, RING!
“Do you think I should put the cat out at night or keep her inside?”
“My advice is to keep her indoors if you don’t want her getting laid by every Tom in the neighborhood.”
“The dirty bastards! I agree! That’s sooo true! Thank you sooo much, that’s exactly what I needed to hear!”
RING, RING, RING!
“I am up to my ass in kittens; I mean I have kittens coming out of my ass. Want a free kitten? I have an assful of ’em.”
* * *
Yeah, I’m one of those extremely kind and helpful schmucks too.
I think it has something to do with my face. People often mistake the catatonic look in my eyes for intelligence and deep introspective thought, thusly assuming that I know everything about everything. Little do they know “that look” comes from the medications I take to prevent me from lifting my leg and pissing all over them in public.
It would be silly to think I know everything about everything. I know a little about a lotta things and a lot about little things, but I don’t know squat about everything else. And that’s a lot.
RING, RING, RING!
“This is the bomb squad. Should we cut the red wire or the blue wire?”
“My advice is to cut the . . . uh . . . er . . . umm . . .”
See what I mean? Who in the hell ever heard of cutting the uh-er-umm wire? Boy, am I a boob sometimes. The uh-er-umm wire, for chrissake. What a boob.
Luckily, the bomb guy didn’t listen to me because why would he be any different from every other fecking idiot I have ever known in my entire life?
* * *
I have some theories why people never take my advice.
1. They cannot hear me because they aren’t listening.
2. They are listening but they can’t hear me.
3. They’re not listening because they’re too busy talking.
4. They cannot hear me because they have their iPod ear buds on underneath their cell phone ear buds.
5. They had their mind made up before they called me.
6. They are testing me (see bomb guy, above).
7. I don’t know what I’m talking about (see bomb guy, above).
8. They like to fuck with me, especially when I am not in the mood, or I feel like shit, or I have PMS, or I am asleep.
9. I sound like their mother.
10. My advice involves making personal life changes and people don’t like change, even when a change will solve their problem, and when it’s for their own good, and when it makes their life better and happier, because change takes time and change takes a lot of work, most of it very painful and sad work, especially when it involves quitting a habit or recovering from an addiction or losing weight or forgiving someone or leaving the past to live in the now, but they are scared to death of the process of change and think they are incapable of it, not to mention the investment of their oh-so-precious time, so what they are really asking for is a quick fix, a miracle cure, or divine intervention that will do the changing for them and spare them the inconvenience of doing anything for themselves.
Those things don’t exist, of course—quick fixes, miracle cures, or divine intervention—but why listen to me? Even when someone agrees with me, he or she turns right around and does the exact opposite . . .