September Mailbag

As always, I offer the usual caveat that I have absolutely no professional experience except for my 36 years on this planet and my 11.5 months of fatherhood.  These are just one man's answers to your many questions.  And as usual, I question who's more disturbed...me or my readers.  Anyway, it's been a while folks so let's get right down to it.  Welcome to the September Mailbag! 

Dear Metro…My therapist suggested I contact you for advice.  She's upset because my narcissistic personality disorder has been magnified ever since I started a blog.  Personally, I think she's just jealous because I called her blog a fucking bore and told her that I don't think anyone in the world cares about the mundane minutiae of her pathetic little existence.  I mean, really.  This woman has degrees from some of the top institutions in the country and charges me $300/hour.  Why the fuck is she blogging about the snow outside her window?  Anyway, feel free to read my blog and let me know what you think.  If you like it, my egotism will be well-justified and I'll know I need to find a new therapist.  If you hate it, I'll have to crawl back to that boring shrink's couch for some more treatment.
-Lucy (Kalamazoo, MI)

Dear Lucy,

I’m flattered that you would turn to me for advice.  Really, I am.  But I just read your blog and WOW!  You are one crazy fucked-up bitch!  Get back on the meds immediately and lose my e-mail address!  (Just kidding, Lucy!  Just kidding.)

In all seriousness, I’m actually having the same problem.  Now that everyone and their mother has a blog, I tend to evaluate people based on their writing, story-telling and grammar.  Unfortunately, that’s really not a great way to choose a lawyer, accountant, a physician or a therapist.  This might go a long way towards explaining why I’m constantly talking to myself like a madman in bankruptcy court while having heart palpitations and stomach disorders.  Seriously though, my physician is not only a crappy writer but he probably thinks Strunk & White is the name of a barbecue sauce.  And Good Lord, man!  Have you never heard of fucking spell check? 

Personally, I think reading a professional's blog is like reading a girlfriend’s diary.  As all guys know, nothing good can ever come out of reading a girlfriend’s diary.  Similarly, nothing good can ever come out of reading your shrink’s blog.  If that advice doesn't work for you, just find a new therapist.  Preferably one with better meds and a liberal prescription pad.  Worked for me!   

Dear Metro…My two year-old daughter continually takes her diaper off (during her afternoon nap) and proceeds to decorate her crib, bedding and self with her poop. I have put her on a potty with no luck as of yet but I can't seem to get through to her that poop is NOT fun to play with OR clean up! HELP! 
-Beth (Chicago, IL)

Beth…See, the problem here is that playing with poop IS fun!  It’s NOT fun to clean up but it’s definitely fun to play with.  Besides, I subscribe to the theory that you should never stifle a child’s creativity.  After all, did you know that some of our most respected artists dabbled in feces?  That’s right. It’s a little-known fact that Van Gogh’s first major painting was “The Poopy Eaters.”  As you know, he expounded on this theme throughout puberty until he was 16 and painted the famous “Potato Eaters” series.  It's called childhood development, my friend.  Personally, my favorite medium was urine.  And to this day, every time I’m up in the mountains skiing, I always take the time to drop my pants and pee my name in the snow.  I like to think my excellent penmanship stems from my early scribblings.      

Dear MetroDad...My 12 year old son can't sleep alone in his bed. He wants to sleep with his parents every night. It's getting ridiculous.  He's more than old enough to sleep by himself.  How can we get him to sleep in this own room?
-Richard (Trenton, NJ) 

Dude...I don't know what to say.  When I was 12, the LAST place I wanted to sleep was in my parents bed.  Hasn't your son discovered the joys of masturbation yet?  Anyway, unless this is some sort of premeditated evil conspiracy to ensure that you and your wife never have sex again (therefore eliminating the possibility of your son having any siblings), I think you need to resort to some drastic measures.  First, buy him some porno mags.  There's a good chance you'll never see him in your bed again (in fact, there's a good chance you might never see him ANYWHERE again.)  But if he's not interested in girls yet and that doesn't work, then I would seriously consider hazing the crap out of him.  When he's lying peacefully in your bed, dip his finger in a cup of lukewarm water so he pees in his pajamas.  Or put some shaving cream on his finger and tickle his nose while he's sleeping.  Worst case scenario?  Shave his head and graffitti his entire body with a permanent marker.  As any child psychologist will tell you, kids aren't dumb.  He'll get the hint.  Of course he might hate you for life.  But at least you'll have your bed back.  Besides, who DOESN'T hate their parents these days? 

MD...Have you noticed that some unbelievably stunning women have been hooking up with the biggest dorks these days?  I saw on TV the other day that Rebecca Romijn-Stamos is engaged to the dork from "Stand By Me."  And have you seen that fat loser that Mischa Barton has as a boyfriend?  WTF?  What's a guy like me have to do to score one of these hot babes? 
-Jeffrey (Cambridge, MA)

Jeffrey...Why are you so surprised about this phenomenon?  It's been around forever and will continue to be around forever.  Need I remind you of Courtney Cox and David Arquette?  No?  How about Drew Barrymore and Tom Green?  Then, there's the klepto queen herself, Winona Ryder.  I love the girl but she seems to have made an art form out of fucking her way to the bottom.  Anyway, I'm sure you're a smart guy so let's just face facts here.  David Arquette is a member of a semi-legitimate Hollywood family.  He's allowed to be ugly and weird (in L.A., it's called "eccentric.")  And Mischa Barton's boyfriend?  That's Brandon "Grandson of Marvin" Davis.  Believe me.  When you're worth $500 million, you'll be dating Mischa Barton too.  So my advice to you?  Study hard.  Stay in school.  And play nice with all the smart engineering kids.  One of them might be the next Bill Gates.  If all else fails, just pretend to be one of those eccentric people who never showers, sleeps in his car and is completely unaffected by a girl's celebrity status.  After all, it worked for K-Fed. 

MetroDad...if somebody donates sperm now, if I got the changes in the law right, they are no longer anonymouse. This means, presumably, that sperm donors may have childrens knocking on their doors demanding to see their daddy, who nevers for a moment knew they existed. This must be nasty for both of them.  What affect would it have for the father to have a child turn up on their doorstep that they know nothing about, not even the mother? What affect would it have on the children having the 'real' father they look for not knowing they exist and possibly not even caring? Would the sperm donor be responsibles?
-Jesse (Baltamore, MD)

Jesse...let's start with the fact that you can't even spell your hometown correctly.  And although your letter borders on being completely indecipherable, I think I know what you're getting at.  And the answer is NO.  If a child comes knocking on your door claiming that you're his biological father, you don't have to give back the $17.00 that the sperm bank gave you for jerking off in a cup.   Just drink your orange juice, eat your cookie and be on your merry way.

Metro...My friend and I were recently reading an article somewhere about the "Fredo Hall of Fame," an imaginary institution where screwed-up siblings of famous people could be enshrined for  posterity.  We think that the inaugural candidate for entry into the Hall would have to be Billy Carter.  After all, he not only became a paid lobbyist for Libya but he also tried to cash in on his brother's fame by peddling the infamous Billy Beer!  You've got to love a guy like that.  Definitely a true Fredo.  Anyway, who else would you put on the list and why?
-Rick (Marin, CA)

Rick...Staying with the political theme, I'm going to start with another presidential sibling, Roger Clinton.  When brother Bill was governor, Roger was busted for cocaine possession.  Then, after being controversially pardoned by his brother, Roger had the balls to set up a business collecting money from people in exchange for a promise that he would get Bill to pardon them too.  Then, in a true Fredo trifecta, Roger got himself arrested for 3 counts of drunk driving.  Classic Fredo manuever!  You almost have to love the guy for being such an idiot!  (By the way, why is that siblings of Democrats end up being such dumb bumpkins and the siblings of Republicans end up being prostitute-loving felons like Neil Bush?) 

Anyway, my friend Bill Simmons from ESPN answered a similar question recently and stated that no real list could be complete without including everyone in Snoop Dogg's family, Steve Sanders' half-brothers on 90210, Frank Stallone and all of Don Shula's sons.   To that list, I would probably add any of the Baldwin brothers, any of the Duff sisters, and anyone with the last name Lohan.

Ok, folks.  That's it.  I'm outta here.  Post future questions in the comments section or send me an e-mail.  And if you want to read some past mailbags, check here, here, or here.  See you next time!

Comments

[Sara P.]

Thanks, MD! Been waiting for a new mailbag for a long time. This one didn't disappoint!

[Brent]

MD, you should be a writer. That is some funny shit.

[Matthew]

Wow, as always, very informative. 1) It reinforced the rule about not eating yellow snow. 2) I will definitely make sure my blog is spell-checked (wouldn't want to piss off MD!) and 3)I need to get famous so we can enshrine my brother in the Fredo Hall of Fame!

Great post. I can't wait for October's Mailbag!

[landismom]

Are you sure you only have 11.5 months of parenting experience?

[Susanna]

I LOVE, LOVE, LOVE Strunk & White. Elements of Style is my favorite! Have you read "Woe is I" or "Eats, Shoots, Leaves?"
(I'm a dork. I know)

[Lawrence]

I'll agree with Landismom, MD. You are wise beyond your parenting years. Having raised 3 children, I've always believed that two keys to success are being able to improvise and thinking on your feet. And most important? Have a great sense of humor about it all. You've definitely got it covered.

[One Eye Jones]

Winona Ryder "fucking her way to the bottom?" That is a classic line. Gonna have to remember that one!

[Tor]

For the poop artist? What about Duct Tape! 1001 uses, including keeping diapers tamper proof.

[Dutch]

Someday all of winona ryder's ex-boyfriends should form a band. The white guy with dreads from soul asylum could be the lead singer. Ryan Adams could mope and smash things. Beck could actually make the music. And maybe they could teach Johnny Depp a few chords so he could play rhythm guitar, provided he eventually stops acting so fucking french.

They could be the Traveling Wilburys of the 21st century! The music will be really crappy but you'll have to watch the streaming video podcast just to see how they've all aged.

[AdventureDad]

Ok, come clean. How many kids did you have BEFORE your 11.5 month old? I propose we start our own blog/TV-show/sitcom/book deal/kindergarten and make quadrillions. You can be the funny writer and I'll be the boring assistant/accountant in the background. I promise only to hire gorgeous blond Swedish women as staff.

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[Queen of Ass]

Do you think the playboy thing will work if my son's 6? I'm trying to wean him from my bed and get him in his own, but so far, it's been a damn long process.

[misfithausfrau]

Well, I wish I had read your advice on artistic poopage BEFORE I started potty training. It probably would have saved me a lot of grief.

Billy Carter--snort!!!

I sincerely look forward to next month's mailbag!

[Karla]

I think your advice is dead-on. Just so you know, I still take off my diapr and play with my poop, too. So I appreciate you not allowing that stick-in-the-mud mommy to stifle her creative child's poop-frolicking tendencies.

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