Incompetent Advice

I'm 30 years old, divorced, underemployed, I live alone with one extremely neglected houseplant, and I've had more breakups than Liz Taylor and more jobs than someone twice my age. Do you really want my advice? If so, email Disclaimer: I am not qualified to dispense advice. The only degree of any kind I hold is in journalism, which only qualifies me for good grammar and poor income prospects. Whatever happens afterwards is your lookout.

Friday, April 11, 2003

Dear Shannon.

I too just quit my job, and I'm following your good-for-nothing sister into a life of production and cheap beer in LA. Any recommendations on hotspots to see while I'm criss-crossing the country?

Thanks a lot,
401K less in D.C.

Well, if you want a literal hot spot, I'd recommend Borrego Springs, the hottest place in the United States. As it takes balls to move cross country, I also recommend a pilgrimage to The World's Largest Ball of Twine in Darien, Minnesota.

Under general cross-country trip advice, I'd recommend picking up a copy of The Bad Girl's Guide to the Open Road by Cameron Tuttle. Laugh at the title all you want, but it teaches vital road skills like fixing a muffler with a Chicken McNugget, towing your car with pantyhose, and talking your way out of a speeding ticket.

Also, know your way around a car before you go. Do you know what to do if your engine overheats? It's counterintuitive, but turn up the heat. Can you change a tire? AAA can take a while in Nebraska. Get a car-savvy friend to spend an hour giving you a tour. It can save your butt in the wilderness - wilderness being defined as anywhere not on the East Coast.

Finally, take jumper cables, a cell phone or CB radio, trusty maps, flares, a flashlight, a jug of water for the radiator, and twice as many CD's as you think you'll need.

This Week's Advice to a Stranger

This idea was fueled by beers with my new friends Kurt and Yumi. Basically, I will rant at a total stranger in hopes that they become enlightened with my wisdom.

To the Really Annoying Guy at the Black Cat Last Night,

You are not invisible. The bartender can see you. The bartender can also see you pushing other patrons out of the way as you call out for three drafts of Steeeeeelllllllaa with Streetcar intensity. Knock it off.

Also, comb your hair. Over your face. Because I'm frightened of your forehead.

Tuesday, April 08, 2003

Welcome to my new site! I will be dispensing advice weekly, as I am infinitely better at telling people what to do than achieving anything with my own life.