|
HYATTE'S GUIDE TO LIFE - Chris Hyatte I believe in being somewhat honest with you people, (and by “somewhat”, I mean that hard-core details of my life are dispensed with the necessary caution). So, since I’m being Mr. Advice, Know-It-All dude, I thought you folks deserve to hear a quick story about me that shows that while I have a solid, general idea of what I’m saying, it doesn’t necessarily mean I always listen to myself. I don’t really like clubbing because it’s just not me, so on weekends I pick up a few extra bucks and watch a state-run subsidy apartment complex in downtown Pawtucket (not the nicest of neighborhoods, yo). It’s cool; I just get people to sign-in, make small talk, get to observe some really fucked up people walk around (the building is either old folks or people on disability – physical and mental). There’s a Spanish chick there named Yodeera. OH, OH… so fucking hot. Tight, TEEIGHT little ass, nice cans, long blonde hair, a smile that lights up the room. Easily the hottest girl in that place and one of the prettiest girls I’ve seen in a while. Now she’s shy, so it’s taken me months of flirting (brief flirting as she never really pauses during the length from the door to the elevator, where I sit) just to get her to smile and say Hi to me whenever she comes in. I do most of the flirting here, light, normal stuff like calling her cute names: “Hey pumpkin. Hey heartbreaker.” Hell, I do ALL of the flirting; but she’s receptive to it. Big smiles, solid giggles. The other night, I got the look back. I called her “baby!!” and she turned her head just as she turned the corner and smiled VERY warmly. Very cool. Of course, she never stops to talk though. It’s always right to the elevator and to her apartment, which she never stays in for long as it’s the weekend so she’s in and out a lot. Hell, sometimes she doesn’t come home at all. She brings
no boyfriends home, not that I can tell, but she does bring home
brothers and family… but for all I know she might have a boyfriend in
there. Not sure enough. Anyway, one
of my weaknesses in life is that I have never, ever been able to tell if
a chick likes me or LIKES me… except for those rare occasions where
they practically tossed themselves at me.
So I’m thinking that this chick prefers a little “flava” in
her sexual diet and only smiles at the white boy because I’m pretty
brazen with my flirting. I
know she likes me but I’m sure she doesn’t LIKE me… nor is she
open to it. I
would talk to her but, to be honest, the opportunity never really
presents itself. So
that’s the story. I’m
not looking for advice, I just wanted to let you know that even the
great Hyatte gets stumped sometimes when it comes to women.
The difference is, however, that I know enough about myself and
human nature to figure out how to deal with it.
Plus the days when I’d get all bent out of shape when a girl
says no is LOOONG past. I’ve
gotten pretty good at letting things go.
So
there you go. Do as I say
but not as I do. I’m not
perfect; I’m just smart. Besides,
the real mystery here is how this girl gets away with living in an
apartment where the state pays for most of her rent.
What’s wrong with her? Is
she on disability? Why?
Is she loony? Hell,
for all I know, she’s a man. That
would really shake up my shit. Oh,
I want to fuck her tho’… oh shit. Anyway,
here’s an update to some advice I gave a dude with a chick giving him
mixed signals. It’s in
the 8.31 column, of which Flea should slap up a link to, if he’s
paying attention ($$$$$) I'm
sure you don't remember but I'm the guy that wrote you the letter about
the bartender chick that you said likes me but is going out of her way
to prove to me and herself that she doesn't. I just wanted to give you
an update. The
first thing you told me was that after reading my letter you had no idea
if I actually liked this girl or not. That really hit me hard because
for the first time in the whole relationship...I really never sat down
and thought about it. Like I said in my original letter, I really did
enjoy spending time with her but at the same time I didn't think I saw
us in a long term relationship. Why you ask? I don't really know...I
guess because before her I had my heart CRUSHED by someone else and I
needed someone to hold on to, you know? So maybe she was a rebound
relationship...certainly seems like it when I write it out like this.
Anyway...I
actually did get the guts up to flat out ask her what the nature of our
relationshp was. She came back with the dreaded "what do you
think?" I had to tell her I didn't know and she told me that she
liked things as they were. I asked her if she sees other people and she
said 'not really'. Her former live in boyfriend completed his moving out
a couple weeks ago so I just assumed they had at least one last fling
before parting ways. That thought doesn't bother me for whatever
reasons. So currently, between her working two jobs, usually late into
the night and her last semester at college we only talk maybe once a
week and we've not seen each other in almost a month. Of course just
when I think we're fading away from each other, sparks fly again.
Anyway...with the combination of the distance, busy schedules and lack
of strong emotional ties, I really don't see much in our future other
than being good friends. And that's not a bad thing...is it? Sorry to
ramble for so long...just thought you might like to know. ~Ryan in Kentucky Nope,
it’s not a bad thing at all. I
still say she likes you a lot, but she sees flaws in you that keeps her
away. Plus she’s really,
busy with work and stuff. But
what do you care, you don’t really like her, you just like her
company. So,
you’re all set. Okay,
how about we get going here. We
start off with a question. The story you’re about to hear will at
first piss you off, then will sadden you.
See, there’s a swerve dead in the center of this tale that
throws everything out of whack. Here,
see for yourself: Hey,
my name is Tom P and I need some advice.
The kind that won't be influenced by childish bullshit hormones. I
am involved in a threeway relationship.
Two girls and me. This quite frankly is light-years better than
my teenage jerkoff fantasies have ever been. I met my wife in college,
the beginning of my sophomore year. We hit it off right away, and
married Now
my wife isn't the most beautiful of women to most people, though I find
myself more attracted to her than anyone in my entire life, she has this
spark that seems to draw the eyes of guys everywhere we go. So we go to
this strip club and sit down, having gotten something from the juice bar
when she suggests we move up to the stage. At this point I was into it,
because the thought that my new wife might have bi tendencies was pretty
much a gigantic turn on. So we sit down and my wife is either putting on
a great show or is actually enjoying this when the next stripper struts
onstage. And who should it be, but one of my best friends, who I had
thought was working in another club across town. Why
should this be a problem you ask? Because we had a torrid fuckfest right
before I met my wife. In fact this stripper was my very first. (unlikely
I know, but
we had known each other through highschool and what college I had up
until then when she quit because she was out of money and making major
scratch from
stripping). So it was a bit awkward because I had told my wife about
this and she wasn't sure she wanted me to remain friends with her,
etc... See what shocked the hell outta me was the fact that she and my
wife flirted pretty much the entire night, coy glances, comments and
all. So at when we got up to leave this stripper girl hands us her cell
number and asks for my wife's. This shocked me but what made me
figuratively crap myself was that my wife was not only not offended she
was totally into it. Let's
just say that I woke up the next morning (really it was afternoon) in a
tangle of arms and legs. Now that was a pretty nice feeling, but it's
now been about two
years and we have all settled into a very comfortable and quite frankly
loving realationship and I can honestly say the sex isn't even the best
part. (hard Now I am sure you are at the
part where you are asking yourself what the fuck is this guy's problem
(well maybe not, but..) the thing is about four months ago I was
diagnosed with a brain tumor. A malignant one. I have lasted this long,
but
the doc says that it will definitely shorten my life significantly. Now
to the part that I would like deleted if you find it appropriate to post
any of this. (tons
and tons of really nasty stuff happened to him, trust me, hard-core shit
here). back
to the main thrust of my question. See My two ladies who I have grown to
love pretty much as equally as I can want a child. Bad. And this isn't
any, oh give me a kid because we are a lesbian couple and and need a
dick. It's is truly the fact that they want a family and they have both
wanted children for a while. My wife stated explicitly that she wanted
children when we were dating and my other wife the stripper made sure we
used as much protection as possible during our affair because as she
stated, "I want children really bad Tom, but I want them to have a
father too." So I know that they want children with me not by me.
Which is a wonderful feeling. So my question(s) is(are): Thanks
man, p.s.
The reason I told you about my family history is that these two women
are pretty much the only people that have ever loved me without wanting
anything but love in return and I really don't want to disappoint them Hmm… First
of all, I hope you’re still alive to read this. Second
of all, I won’t insult you by saying, “Gee, I’m sorry.”
When I tell people that my mom died 9 years ago, they all say
“Sorry.” To which I
shoot back, “Why? Did you
kill her?” It drops the
subject AND breaks up the little awkward tension.
But enough about me. Third
of all… you lucky, lucky prick with your lucky, lucky prick. How about
that God for you huh? First he throws some amazing luck your way, then he drops you
naked in a room filled with industrial strength rat traps and extra
slimy banana peels. You’re
asking me what you should do. When
you ask, “Give them what they want?”, that seems to be a left-handed
way of saying, “Should I NOT pump them full of my seed.”
That’s what’s going on, right?
Neither of them want a fatherless kid.
They want someone who is around. Well,
let’s be frank here: Let whatever happens, happen.
You’re gonna be dead soon.
Unless you are on your way to HELL (and four out of every five
religions would say that you are, you rat jap blaspheming, decadent
HEATHEN, you!), you’ll be going to a place where all these earthly,
mortal matters will no longer concern you.
In short: you won’t be able to do a thing about it.
You’ll be dead. Their lives
will go on without you. Hell,
if you stick around and watch: you’ll end up getting pissed at how
quickly they adjust to live without Tom. Now that
I’m thinking about it, I say knock up the real wife (let the stripper
find her own mate) and leave your mark.
A kid is the best way to remind everyone that there was a guy
named Tom P. running around and boy howdy, did he have a blast during
his last couple of years on earth.
I don’t say this about many people, but if your story is true,
then you are one of the few people alive who have earned the right to
have a kid. Your wife is
worrying needlessly; practically every goddam 20-something year old
hooch I’ve known has a kid and is raising it alone.
Most of them seem to end up fine. Of course,
make sure the kid’ll be provided for.
If you guys are living in near poverty, why subject an innocent
child to that? I just
realized that I’ve dedicated close to 500 words on avoiding any hard
and fast answer. Want to be
a selfish prick, I say knock them BOTH up and laugh your way to the
pearly gates. Nice thing
about being dead is that there are ZERO responsibilities anymore. Wanna be a caring, considerate human being one last time,
then ONLY knock up the wife and ONLY when you are 100% confident that
the child will want for nothing, including love. And…
err… could I meet your wives and maybe replace you in that little love
sandwich? I mean, for me,
two years of wild three-way action followed by a quick death, all before
I hit 40 is pretty much the way I’d want to go.
I already have my opening line set up:
“Hey babies, Tom was the ham, but Hyatte is the ROAST BEEF!
Now get yer Whole wheat asses over here and let’s party!!
I’ll be supplying the mayonnaise in about ten second!
Booya!!” Right. Next
one is about school, and careers, and general nonsense. Dear
Hyatte-
I
have been toiling over what I should do in my career, and thought- why
not ask the guy you have read since the Red stripe days?
Good ole CH. I
was in the navy as a hospital corpsman, which is an unlicensed LPN. I
came out with no degree and no certifications. This
was 5 years ago. Since then, I have gone to school for 3 years and
gotten my gen-ed requirements done. I cannot stand school. I hate boring
lectures, and only did my gen-eds through summer school. With
this in mind, here is my conundrum. I have 2 options for getting a
nursing license. -Go
to a community college for 1 year, and take the LPN test
-Go
to a community college for 2 years, get my Assoc. Degree in Nursing, and
take the RN test.
It
basically boils down to, 1 or 2 years of college. Is it worth it for me
to get my RN? I have no idea how much the difference is in pay, as I
used to be in a military hospital, where everyone gets paid the same.
Please
help your loyal reader. Gray
Go to
school and quit whining, you wimp.
Get as much education as possible.
More schoolin’ = more cha-ching $$$$$$.
Stop whining. Jesus H, the Navy is paying for all of it, aren’t they?
It’s free learning, ISN’T IT? Plus you
meet a lot of girls. Or guys, if that’s what sinking your submarine. Simple. Now we turn towards a question
of a more philosophical note, yes we do. Hyatte,
Now
I've been reading your answers to your younger audience since you've
started this column, and I think you've been doing a very good job in
letting them know that at times, even though life seems like it's got
your nuts in a vice, you still have your whole life in front of you. Yes
that narrow window, that tunnel visioned vortex that you think is all
encompassing and chest constricting, you can't eat, can't sleep, that
problem that consumes your life, your whole entire being - really for
all intents and purposes amounts to grade fucking A jack shit. Listen to
Hyatte...he's been upfront and downright brutal in trying to make you
realize that you and only you can change your life if you really want.
That girl that has your stomach in knots now? I guarantee you will give
two shits about a year from now when you are pokin that fine piece of
ass, and that boring job that pays you so well? Ten years from now
you'll be on your yacht in Fort Lauderdale eating shrimp, calimari and
getting blown with (and by) the best of 'em. This is also coming from
someone who is speaking from experience. On
to the question, I'm pretty sure you are around the same age as me, I'm
28 going on 29 and I can honestly relate to most of the questions that
have been posed to you by your readers in some way. Do
you feel now Hyatte, that as you are approaching your thirties, you have
come full circle in some aspects of your life? Off
the top of my head I can think of - In your late teens coming home
knowing you'll get yelled at by Mom because you stayed out late.Again.
"Oh shit she's going to kill me!" Then you finally
reach that age where you are on your own and you have no worries and no
one to answer to. At that stage, you are the epitomy of "No
responsibility." Then you settle down with a girl, fall in love
move in...
and somehow, somewhere a line was crossed. You don't know when it
happened, where it happened or how it happened. It just happened. You
find yourself afraid all over again because you know if you come home
late again you are going to get it. "Oh shit she's going to kill
me!" Weird. Unsettling. Downright creepy. Fuck Freddy, Fuck Jason.
This is real fear. Or
how about the one where you show up at that first day of college, look
around and go, "What the fuck am I doing here, I have no idea what
I want to do with my life?!" Someone
older than you (doesn't really matter who, someone "adultlike")at
that point tells you, "Don't worry, everything always works out,
don't stress you'll find your niche." So worried and a little
scared, you end up just taking courses here and there, fall into a
field, graduate, get that job, live that life a little and run into that
familiar youth who poses that same familiar question and you find
yourself saying that same familiar answer, "Don't worry, everything
always works out..." I
hate the word surreal but at times that is what getting older feels
like. Shit and thirty ain't shit on the old scale. ummmm...yea. Ugggh.
Gus Gus, Gus,
Gus… you’ve hit on some interesting points. A
relationship with a girl, especially a long term one, has to be built on
100% trust. Total,
unconditional trust. So, if
you have to sweat coming home late because your “New Mommy” will
kill you, then find a new hole to stick your tallywacker into….
Quickly. (Or, call
the girl and say, “I’m gonna be late, baby”… a touch of courtesy
goes a long way with the babes). College
freshmen who know EXACTLY what they want to do with their lives from day
one are dopes. They are
dopes because they think no other option is worth their while, so they
don’t explore them. College
is geared specifically for young minds to go exploring, that’s why
they give you four years (and don’t bust your balls if you stick
around for five, six, or even eight) to figure it all out.
It’s also why they let you select a major AND a minor, or two
majors. Colleges WANT the
kids who first arrive not to know what the fuck they want, it allows the
organization to do what it does best: shape and mold. Your
(for lack of a better word) “misery” isn’t coming from getting
old, it’s coming from regret. You
are looking back at all the turns you have taken in life and are
fretting about that right you made in ’95 when a left may have been
better. Why did you get off
that freeway in ’94 when there was that cooler exit only a few miles
further down? We all go
through that. Can’t do
much to change it. And it’s
true, things always DO work out… because the world is much bigger than
you, and no individual can be a cog in it’s machinery.
We have no choice but to… oh what am I babbling about?
Christ, what a buffoon. Look,
getting old sucks but it’s something no one can change.
So look at the bright side: You are smarter, stronger, and better
at sex now then you were ten years ago.
Plus, guys always age better than girls, so those hot pieces of
tails you lusted after ten years ago are now walking around with a trash
bag filled with Cornflakes for an ass and a face that looked like it
fell off the ugly tree and hit every limb on the way down. On the dark
side: You’ll never be as fast, your muscles get stiffer, that hair
that’s falling out by the handful ain’t growing back, and no hair
coloring in the world will replace those gray sprouts with the same
color you had ten years ago. Welcome
to life, find a seat and join the party.
It’s non-discriminatory; everyone you know is there. And it’s
never; EVER too late to change… just gets tougher every year. Ohhh, my head’s spinning. I need a good ol’ fashioned relationship question to settle things. Luckily, I have them in abundance. Okay,
here's the story. I've known this girl for over a year now. She's jaw-droppingly
gorgeous, thin, funny, smart, talented, has great taste in clothes,
musics, books. She's
the total package.
Model looks and is probably the best artist in town. She Last
semester she starts working for this ethics professor at our college,
helping him with his thesis or some shit. The teacher is 42 and a fat
long-haired pot smoking hippy. Wears the black sunglasses inside, has
his wild anti-government theories (thinks Bush caused 9/11.) I've known
him for years, his office is in the building my newspaper is located.
Brilliant guy, but y'know out there. Anyway,
her boyfriend, who's also an obese guy, flips out that she's spending
time with this teacher, so she dumps the boyfriend. So, I'm bummed. I like them both. Sucks to see it happen. Again, this girl is out of my league. I have no shot, right? Okay, his band is playing one night and I decide to go. Hey, he's a friend, I like his band. She sends me an e-mail saying it 'may be awkward when I see him because when they broke up she told she was attracted to other people, namely me and the professor. I'm like 'okay.' I see him that night, me and him walk around the block for 2 hours while he yells and screams about me, her and the professor. About how she always ignored him when the three of us hung out, how he felt that I was driving a wedge between them. Then he says that one of the songs is about me on their album. (Lyric
of note, 'there's one that truly bothers, they say he's just a friend,
but if So,
clearly I was an issue. Anyway,
eventually things settle down with me and the ex. He doesn't actively
hate So,
my question is, what do you think my options are here? I like the girl,
only a fool wouldn't be absolutely smitten with her (her ex basically
had a breakdown over it), she's a great friend, I don't think this
professor thing is a good idea at all and seems destined to end. So,
should I force the issue with her or sit back, be there for her and
eventually hope for my chance to arrive. I mean, this is the type of
girl you marry and, on the other hand, the type of girl that if you have
and lose, you may never get over. We have great chemistry, we get
along, we make each other laugh. I'm just not sure whether it's
worth forcing the issue, but I'm also afraid that my window will close
and while she won't end up with the professor permanently, she may move
on to someone else. Note:
if me and her actually started dating the ex would probably try to beat
my ass. James So
normally I would laugh at the ex’s vow to whup your ass by reminding
you that most guys are pussies with big mouths, but this one is
different. See,
if this guy is as obese as you say, (and a guy standing six feet and
weighing just over 200 lbs is NOT obese by any stretch), and if this
chick is as model-hot as you say, then the big dope is probably very
homicidal over the break-up. Fat
people DO NOT GET models. It’s
not the way it works. Makes me wonder just how “hot” this
“model” of yours is… maybe you’re just dealing with a touch of
infatuation. Anyway,
if you’re afraid of the tough guy, then invest in a baseball bat, or a
tire iron, of a sock filled with rocks.
Or, if he attacks, just scream, “MOTHERFUCKER!” and attack
back. Go psychotic on his
ass. Find all that pent up
rage we all have brewing in our little bodies and release it in a fury
of mindless swings. Fuck
‘im, he isn’t Mike Tyson. He’s
just a human being that can get hurt just like everyone else. And
for Chrissakes, there is NO shame in losing… just ask Triple H! (okay,
bad example.) Everyone
deserves a good ass whuppin’ once in a while.
Good for the soul. As
far as the chick goes… oy vey… it seems that I’ve handed down this
advice before. Well, here
it goes: The
professor thing is just a “little thing”.
Nothing to fret about. I’ve
seen these things before; they scream “May-December”. It won’t last, only because the weird, out there, but
oh-so-fascinating hippie professor is probably quite the calculated
“playa” who considers banging the young, impressionable pieces of
poon on the side a perk to his job.
He’ll toss her aside just in time for the new semester to kick
in with a fresh crop of eager, easily impressed young pieces of tight
ass to show up. Your only problem is that if this girl is dumb enough to fall
in love with him, then you’ll have to deal with being her shoulder to
cry on. You may parlay that
into sex, but you ain’t getting a relationship out of it. Look,
she already has made it clear that she likes you and you like her…
God, man, what do you want? Do
you her on your bed naked with her legs spread holding a sign over her
love oven saying: “Insert here, nitwit!”
Talk to her, ask her, let it all hang out, GO FOR IT!! Worse
that can happen is that she says no.
Then you’re better off and you can go pine for someone ELSE.
Plenty more where she came from, PLENTY. PLENTY!! And
when she says no, if you want to fuck WITH her, then have sex with her
ex. That’ll show her! Oh,
and dude, there’s smitten and then there’s devoting horrible POETRY
to her beauty, which is almost what you were doing in this e-mail.
Girls can sense when guys are both Desperate AND Hopelessly In
Love. Neither is much of a
turn-on to them. Just so
you know. Hyatte, Long
time supra-fan, been waiting a while on this and since you actually seem
to know your shit, I'd send this along. I'm 25 and I've been with my
girlfriend for over three years and everything is great (thinking of
moving in together after the holidays) but things are lagging a bit with
my social life. It's
not a problem of her not liking my friends (we all met together through
the common bond of indy wrestling) it's more so of my current lack of
desire to deal with people, at times them in particular. Whenever the
local wrestling show, PPV or some other event (usually movie
release/screening) we all get together, but when it comes to just
"hanging out", I really can't be bothered with leaving my
house. Now, they haven't called me on the carpet about it nor has anyone
complained (most of them are bizarre recluses anywho) but it's starting
to concern me that outside of "large events" I think I might
be losing my knack for "hanging out". Now,
when the Group comes over for the PPV, movies, etc., it's tremendous and
I have a great time. However, when it comes time for leaving my house
(bars, etc.) I can't wait to get home. Now, I don't think it's
agoraphobia as I love to travel and it does not affect my work in
anyway, but what could be causing this since I do really enjoy their
company. Not sure if most of this makes any sense to you, but what the
hell. Why is it
concerning you? So you like
to chill out at home with just the girl (or alone, or both) and you
really don’t like people around you all the time.
Big deal. Dude,
you’re into staying at home. Many
people are like that - myself included.
The fact that you do like to OCCASIONALLY go hang with them just
means that you aren’t fucked in the head (at least where this is
concerned). There is
nothing wrong with you, nothing at all.
Hell, you seem to be pretty well adjusted from where I sit. Sit
at home, kick back, have a beer, smoke a doob, jerk-off, listen to
music, go online and read my old columns.
It’s YOUR free time, do with it what you want. And
if the girlfriend starts to complain, say,, “Look, sugarbush, this is
who you fell for. I’ll
party with you and your buds and have a good time but you have to
understand that I don’t want to do it all the time.”
If there is trust in your relationship, and if you’re not a
needy prick, then she can go party with them while you chill.
Then she comes home nice and drunk and you can do some nasty
things to her… nasty sexy things… heh… ha… cucumbers rule. Relax.
Mushrooms were born to sit there and get fat.
You picked yourself a good name. You’re
doing fine.
Nevermind
the girl. No, really.
You have bigger fish to fry right now. The
girl knows you are paranoid, and self-loathing, and without confidence,
and I’m willing to bet she sees that you have no game at all. Hell, I’ll go farther here and bet that you, in your
misguided attempts to establish a relationship with her, have already
confessed your personal issues to her in hopes for support.
In short, without even realizing it you have displayed the worst
side of your personality to her. Now,
put yourself in her place. One
day, this nice guy who is chubby, paranoid, has no confidence, and is
basically a walking, talking basket-case comes up to her and stutters
out an invitation to a date. Wanna
know the first thing that’ll come to her mind? No?
Well too bad ‘cause here it is:
“Oh geeze, he’s my next door neighbor!
Living here will be SO awkward and uncomfortable now!” I’m
sorry kid, but your BLAZING self-pity ruined it… and even if I’ve
over-estimated the message you’ve sent to her and your friends, I’m
willing to GUARANTEE that she senses it about you.
You’ve created a nice little storm cloud that’s constantly
raining over your head for all to see. What
concerns me is that you think that you’ll still be the same after 3
weeks… WRONG… you’ll still be the same after 3 YEARS… after 10
YEARS… 20… 30…FOREVER!! Brother,
you need to see a shrink. Or
maybe not. See, you’re
young; there’s still time for you to change the course of that mighty
river called your sub-conscience. You’re
brain is still pliable enough to be changed, but you have to hurry. Time is NOT your friend here. Confidence
is like a warm fire on a cold night: it heats your outsides first before
it warms your bones on the inside.
You have to make the outside presentable before the insides feel
better. You need to look in
the mirror and like what you see. You
need a gym. Join a gym.
Lift weights for a month… 30 stinking days… you’ll see
improvement. You’ll feel
better about yourself… you’ll LOOK better goddammit.
Walk…
walk around, lose the gut. Gonna
have to, sport. It’s the
only way. Running isn’t
THAT bad… put a Walkman on, pump it up with some hard rock.
Jesus, buy the soundtracks to Rocky 2 & 3.
EYE OF THE TIGER, MOTHERFUCKER!!!
BA-DA-DUDUDA, DUDUDA DUM DUM, FEELING STRONG NOWWWWWW No,
seriously, change now my friend, or prepare for a future exactly like
your present. Give up on
the girlie. I’m sorry,
but I see nothing positive coming out of you asking her out.
You’re not ready for it yet. Best
o’ luck. Speaking of
weight loss, here’s a question that ignores the other drama and goes
straight to the heart of the matter: Hi Hyatte, I am 27 years old, and grossly out of shape. When I was college and just entered the workforce after college, I was in magnificent shape. Then I started law school last year, and now I am turning into a flabby mess. I didn't go to the beach once this summer in fear of being harpooned as a beach whale. I used to work out for 2 hours a stretch 4-5 days a week (1 hour 15 minutes of lifting 45 of cardio), but now I barely have time to wipe my ass. Since I am in the library or in clinics all day, I don't have the luxury of the 2 hour workouts. My eating can improve, whenever i used to workout i used to always eat right, now i am so miserable about it i eat any shit they throw in front of me. I am not doing this to get laid (though it'd be nice to get laid again), but more for the embarrasment of not wearing 28 pants. I am about 5'9 and weight about 220 lbs. Help me Hyatte, your my only hope. I have not worked out in about 6 weeks, and it has been about a year since i worked out regularly. Any sort of constructive advice on a program? I want my old body back, but I realize it might not be possible. Thanks! Roger
Atkins
works nicely. Protein and
fat. Too
complex? Okay, try this:
Never touch any sort of bread, fruit, vegetable that isn’t leafy,
pasta, cereal, potato, any bean (even green), rice, soda, corn, or
something filled with sugar again until you drop 60 pounds. Here’s
a food plan for you (“diet” is a word invented by some clown to get
fat housewives to drop their mortgage payment on something he is
selling, so eliminate that word from your vocabulary): Breakfast: Milk,
protein powder, and a scoop of peanut butter (any kind so long as it’s
creamy) in a glass. Mix and
drink. Lunch: NOTHING,
YOU FAT ASS… IT’S CALLED DISCIPLINE!!
Dinner: Nice piece
of steak, or chicken, or any sort of fish, hamburger… wait,
CHEESEburger, or a nice can of tuna WITH a good glob of mayo mixed in or
eggs; basically anything meaty or fishy or poultryish and you can
slather on the mustard. Drink
a gallon of water a day too. Chew
slowly. And
develop a cocaine habit. Not
fast enough? Okay then
listen to Steve Martin’s weight loss plan: For
the first month, eat one raisin a week. For
the second month, eat one hot fudge sundae a week. If
you aren’t at your ideal weight after two months, start lopping off
body parts until you reach your goal. Done. Here's
my question for you this time. After
years of this happening, I can understand why road rage happens.
Enlighten me, please. Because
nobody likes a smart-ass. Because
life is a series of giant pissing contests. Because
it’s a sign of weakness to let someone essentially say: “Get out of
my way, grandpa!!” and fly past you on the road. Because
people in general are egocentric tools. And
because people in cars are terrified of other drivers.
Those accidents are never pretty. That’s
why… and thanks for the change-up.
I like to see more of these, people. Now back to
the usual stuff (which I don’t mind seeing either, people; so don’t
be afraid to send them in) Hi
Chris, You’ve
been entertaining me for a half a decade now, so allow me to return the
favor by contributing to your new endeavor. I have a few things I could
ask, but it’s probably best to ask about one thing at a time. Thus,
time willing, I may end up being a recurring contributor. This
is going to be another confidence-seeking letter, but at a slightly
different angle. Some background is necessary for this, so I’m going
to be as succinct as possible with my life. I was raised to be a
grade-getting machine, and so I spent the first 18 years of my life
almost exclusively devoting my energies to school. I thus grew up fat,
introverted, and with no sense of character or identity. At the end of
that period, I was just about to enter university. However, I had
accumulated so much anxiety about both maintaining my “great grades
streak” in university and “heading out into the real world” (a
place where I was definitely way too shielded from) that I suffered a
burnout. When I recovered from it, I finally realized that there are far
more things to life than grades, and so I set out to recalibrate my
one-dimensional existence. Over
10 years later, I’m still working on that recalibration. The first
thing I did was rid myself of my lifetime flab collection (50 pounds
worth) within a year through sheer determination. That ended up being
the easy part. Turning the introversion inside out has been a stubborn
bitch. But it’s not like I haven’t been trying. Over the last
decade, I’ve done all sorts of things to expand my social horizon and
force myself to be more outgoing. I tutored at my college for a
semester, I became a volunteer at the YMCA, I became president of my
church’s youth club, I took Latin dance lessons, and most recently, I
joined my local Toastmasters (public speaking) club. And oh yes, I’ll
sheepishly admit to reading or listening to any sort of self-help book
or program I can get. The
end result? Well, I’m further along from where I started from, yet
damn frustrated that I’m not along further. I can go on for a few days
feeling good about myself for accomplishing little things like striking
up a conversation with a colleague I never talked to before. But then I
go to something like a wedding reception or a club and wham! Rock Bottom
on the ol’ self-esteem, because despite my diligently earned good
looks and warm-hearted personality, I still, after all these years, feel
overwhelmed and paralyzed in those kind of multi-sensory, social jungle
environments. Is
this about girls? Well, in part, for sure. Do you know of the agony of
seeing girls of your dreams around the arms of mediocre-looking punks
gussied up in suits and some mousse in their hair? But that’s not the
worst. The worst is witnessing the generation below us, which I
frequently do at the Y, consisting of a truckload of assembly-line,
mass-produced wiggaz picking up girls who I can’t believe don’t know
any better. These little fuckers are no more than unknowing cult
followers of a manipulative music industry, yet these little fuckers
seemed to have been BORN with mountain-loads of the substance I seem to
be acquiring one grain at a time: confidence. Thank God I finally
managed to get two girlfriends of my own in recent years from my salsa
lessons, otherwise watching the little snots do it so effortlessly might
have driven me to pitch myself through a window. But
it’s not only about women. I need more confidence to make a career out
of the new field I just started a Master’s in-but I’ll refrain from
elaborating because this is getting long as is. And in general, I
imagine that there must be such a joie-de-vivre to be experienced by
approaching who or what you want in any situation with no doubt demons
sabotaging you, even if you know that things may not initially turn out
as you want. So
finally, I ask you, what should I do next? It’s not like I’ve done
nothing. Do I just keep digging away with my proverbial spoon until I
one day become the “complete” man I want to be? Do you see my
efforts synergizing one day and shooting my personality through the
roof? Should I look into a hypnotherapist to rewire my subconscious and
accelerate my progress? I believe I have a lot going for me and have a
lot to offer, but confidence elusively remains my Holy Grail, if not
humanity’s in general. And dammit, I’m pushing 30 and it’s about
time I get a larger piece of it. Thanks
for hearing me out. I await your psychological insights and/or
bitch-slapping for my own good. George
It’s good
for everyone with confidence problems who read this stuff, and/or have
written to me about this stuff to see this because it shows that even if
you heed my awesome advice, it doesn’t mean you’ll be getting better
overnight. This stuff takes
TIME, people… takes a LOT OF TIME. George,
what’s happening is that your brain is fighting your brain.
What you WANT to be like is in conflict with what your mind is
USED to being like. Sometimes
the new you wins, and other times, the old you takes a round.
It’s all natural. Fuck,
it’s healthy. This
is easy. Keep fighting your
old mind. Keep winning
those rounds. Don’t get
bummed when the old mindset steals a few.
If you’re determined enough, you’ll outlast the old school
thinking and take over once and for all. You’ve
come a long way, brother, you’ve done better than most already.
Good job. Keep it
up. Now
we meet someone ALL OF YOU should strive to avoid turning into. Hyatte, I’m
a twenty one year old man/boy who has never felt so in love. I’ve been
terribly hurt in the past, and find it difficult to trust people.
However, recently I met a girl. I fell in love with her in the space of
a day and evening, and she for me. She completes me. I thought I was in
love before, but this is… Unexplainable. Abstract. Scary. Wonderful. I
adore and cherish her. I
was a womaniser. I had relationships with girls who were terribly
attractive, and because they were so physically appealing, I tricked
myself into believing I cared for them more than I did. I usually had at
least two girlfriends and a few lovers. Disregarding
their feelings, I lied to them; making excuses for my whereabouts and
erratic behaviour towards them, so they would continue to fuck me. I’m
a piece of shit worm. But…
am I? Can I love someone this much? I don’t want to look at other
girls when I think of her. What would be the point? Has she found the
good in me? Did I just need this one angel to extract the humanity and
sensitivity from my soiled, mangy old mongrel of a soul? She lives in the South of England. I live in the Northwest. Will I slip into my bad old ways/days because of the distance between us? I shall only be seeing her maybe once every two months (England’s a small country, but I just cannot afford the train fares). She’s beautiful (in an interesting way. Not a generic beauty, certainly) and exudes charisma… I’m sure other fellas will be swarming round her like moths to a particularly bright light bulb… Am I being punished for being such a cunt by falling in love with someone who lives far away? Maybe these are all just fears I’m encouraging myself to feel as a defence mechanism, because I’m fearful of being hurt. Has she found the good in me, or created it? Or is she imagining it, and I believe it’s there because she tells me it is? I’m terrified, Hyatte. Jack Ever
see the “Godfather”? Good,
then you’ll get this reference. STOP
WHINING!!! BE A MAN!!!
Oh,
if I had you in front of me I would SLAP YOU IN THE FACE!!! The
FUCK are you doing in a long-range relationship??? A PLAYA like yourself??
Of COURSE you’ll give in to temptation and fuck someone else.
She will too! LDR’s DO NOT WORK!! EVER!! Actually,
if I am to stay true to what I’ve said in the past, in the same column
that I linked to in the introduction up top, there is a question about
LDRs that I answered as such: Any
relationship can work if you both work hard at it. That’s the key, you
both have to work very hard at it. Stop
being a fucking self-pitying baby and work on the relationship.
You’ve clearly had your fun and now are ready to settle down…
guess what, there is no greater turn on to a gal than landing a stud and
making him exclusively hers. It’s one of those great big ego-gratifying accomplishments
that chicks dream about. Whine,
whine, whine. Jesus, why
are you so pussy-whipped? And
you probably are being punished… karma is whacky like that.
Just means you have to work harder.
Is she worth it? According to this disgusting e-mail, she sure is. Get
to work, hop-a-long. And go
find your nuts. You’ve
seemed to have dropped them somewhere… probably in her purse. Good
Lord. What a weird world. Last two: one is a change of pace and the other isn’t.
Some of you
may be wondering, “Who the fuck is Hyatte to dispense writing advice?
He ain’t shit! He’s
not a writer! He’s never
been published! Not like
some OTHER writer in this strange IWC world!!” True…
sort of. Fact is I AM
published… in a REAL magazine. It
was a year ago in one of those writer magazines that pay you in copies. It’s nothing I’m about to talk about because, while I’m
not ashamed or embarrassed by it, it just seems like a lot of crowing
about something so small. Too
petty even for me to brag about. So
don’t even bother asking, I’m not talking about it. Trust
me people… the time will come when I am published in something BIG…
and when that day comes, prepare for a Midnight News column that will
set NEW standards for horn tooting.
Ohhh that’ll be a column you’ll tell your grandkids about…
the one where I rub EVERYONE’S face in it… including people you
don’t even KNOW. Anyway,
plot is important, of course. But
a story is pure shit without fully fleshed characters that the reader
either likes or can relate to or both.
You can write a 300 page book about four guys sitting around
drinking beer and playing poker and it would be compelling if the
characters are likeable. Ask
any playwrite. In the theater, it’s ALL about characters. In
fact, a good way to chart it is like this: 1)
A
play depends on good characters to move the plot along 2)
A
book depends on good characters AND a good plot to blend. 3)
A
movie or TV show depends on a good plot with decent characters to move
it along. Make
sense? I’m not sure if writing a
book based on a franchise is the key to becoming a successful solo act.
I’m sure it’s worked for some people, but you have to
understand that the people who run the Star
Trek novel franchise, (or Buffy,
or Nancy Drew, or The Hardy Boys)
are very xenophobic. They
only use their own staff for the most part.
I’m sure they are open to any proposal you might have, but
unsolicited pitches are usually tossed in what they call their “Slush
pile” and are forgotten about for a long, long time. It’s all
cycles with them; they find a good writer and use him or her up for as
many novels as he/she can write. Look at Marvel Comics. A
decade ago everything was being written by either Fabian Nicieza (sic
and damn proud of it) or Scott Lobell (again, sic).
Now everything’s being written by either Mark Millar or Brian
Michael Bendis. Of course,
I’m exaggerating a bit, but not much. What I’m
saying is that, like everything else in life, writing stuff and being
paid for it is a very, very hard egg to crack. Oh,
and it helps to know the guidelines for writing ANY franchised book
series. And
I have no clue how much anyone is paid.
All I know is that every writer not named King, Grisham, Clancy,
or (insert best selling author here) always says that there is no money
in this game). Dear
Hyatte: Jason.
It’s over. The
chick is a whack job, a whack job of EPIC proportions.
She’s has issues. BIG
TIME issues. And
this is just from the almost incoherent e-mail of yours.
It’s very hard to comprehend the details here.
I’m sure there is a LOT more to the story, but since I’m only
getting one side, I’m doing my best. Run
away. No, I mean it.
Physically RUN from her. You
don’t need her. She’ll
only fuck with your head until things get drastic.
Thank CHRIST you tasted the milk awhile before you bought the
cow. The chick has mad cow
disease, kid. Run.
RUN AS FAR AS YOUR LITTLE FEET CAN CARRY YOU!!
Run and save yourself. Sprint,
goddammit. Pretend you are
a brother from Kenya in the New York marathon with lions and Rhinos and
poachers on your ass. Run.
Run and thank you lucky ass stars you didn’t knock the girl up. Get
the subtle hint here? Run
like Satan Herself is on your ass. And the 30
year old girl is just that: a 30 year old chick feeling herself getting
old and looking for a piece of young stuff to bring her back to her
glory days. Dig in and let
her re-live them. You need
to get that nut job out of your system.
The old bat is PERFECT. I’m
serious. This girl will
cause you nothing but misery if you stick around.
Wanna see hell? Stick
with her and you will. And
we are done. See you next
week. This is Hyatte *** send feedback to Hyatte - GLORYDOG@COX.NET |
