Archive for the ‘extracurricular questions’ Category

taking leave

October 29, 2014

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Draw close, AMTpals, for Anonymous in Whitehall needs our assistance:

I am a mid-level functionary in Her Majesty’s Government who is about to go on a ‘sabbatical’ to recover from various mental health issues.

Although I’ve been open about this with my closest friends, I can’t face the endless questions from my family and people at work about why I am suddenly going to disappear for six months. Being a faceless bureaucrat I am rubbish at creativity, so have failed to come up with a believable cover story that won’t need much work (or elaborate photoshopping of holiday photos) to maintain once I return.

So answer me this: how can I explain disappearing for six months without tying myself in a Gordian knot of lies?

Anonymous, you already answered your own question: ‘sabbatical’. What more do you need? That’s an academic-sounding term for ‘six months of sitting around in your pants watching Netflix’*. When you say ‘sabbatical’, nobody is going to then assume you spent that time doing something exciting, otherwise you would have told them about that exciting thing. (Even though Netflix IS exciting. It’s like a plane’s seatback entertainment system IN YOUR OWN HOME!)

If you really require an alternative, then there’s the old standby ‘gardening leave’. Which is shorthand for ‘Don’t ask’. Also, Anonymous, I wonder whether you might be worrying unduly that your absence will be remarkable: even without the mental health issues to deal with, many government employees need to GTFO every so often.

Readers, if you have relevant experience that can help Anonymous, please share in the comments.

*AKA “Self-employment: the low patches”.

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first book

October 29, 2014

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Bibliomanes, Jordan from Texas needs your help:

I have a nineteen-year-old friend who says she has never read before in her life. I am an avid reader (currently reading three books plus listening to Manchester’s biography of Churchill on audiobook) and this baffles me.

However, she has recently expressed an interest in starting to read and I want to give a recommendation which won’t be so tough as to put her off reading, but isn’t going to get her into the habit of reading shit books.

She likes the horror movie genre and my friend suggested Red Dragon by Thomas Harris, but looking into it, it’s a bit too “psychopath masturbating to films of himself murdering families” for me to comfortably recommend it to a pretty girl I’m interested in.

So answer me this: do you have any ideas?

Readers, I’m turning this questions over to you. Recommend the ideal book for this woman, that will not only fan the flames of ardour for reading, but for Jordan himself! Because while Jordan is a reading zealot eager to convert the uninitiated, we can all see what he’s really up to…

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The scales fall from our eyes, and eggs

October 15, 2014

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Kodi and Matt write:

We are on a long road trip, and the other day while in New Mexico or Arizona on I-10, we were in a gas station and saw rattlesnake eggs for sale.

Why would you buy rattlesnake eggs? What purpose would they serve?

Also, a note on the packaging said to keep cool to prevent hatching. They were on the counter in a hot room.

Firstly, what purpose is served by almost any souvenir? I never got any use out of the gold plastic gondola from Venice or the tiny furry drum from South Africa or the kangaroo scrote purse from Sydney. The rattlesnake eggs are on sale so that you can buy them, dump them on a shelf at home, then wait for someone to say, “What are those?” whereupon you say, “Rattlesnake eggs!” and they say, “Ooh! I hope they don’t hatch!” then you carry on watching Take Me Out.

BUT.

Here’s the real sting in the tail:

Rattlesnakes give birth to LIVE YOUNG.

Which means…

RATTLESNAKES DON’T LAY EGGS!

Pull a handbrake turn, zoom back up the I-10, and launch a full inquiry at this gas station. You clearly can’t trust their tourist tat, so what else are they fraudulently selling? Their ‘gas’ is probably watered down Bisto.

On the plus side, you don’t have to worry about that hot room making those fake eggs hatch.

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Wendy house

October 15, 2014

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Mark is full of questions today:

We’ve just put up a playhouse thingy for our nipper* and wonder why they are called Wendy houses**?

From Peter Pan, innit. After Wendy [SPOILER!] is shot upon arriving in Neverland:

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*Also why are kids called nippers?

‘Nipper’ is old slang for ‘pickpocket’. Because all children are THIEVES.

**Ours is on the allotment and is officially a Wendy shed to get it past the committee.

Your secret’s safe with us, Mark.

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new wedding rituals

September 17, 2014

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Wedding questions are still being flung at us like a barrage of confetti. George and Jackie from Indianapolis write:

We are planning a wedding and like the idea of a unity ritual. However, we think the candle lighting and sand mixing is sort of silly. Do you have any suggestions?

Er, a wedding IS a unity ritual. Do you need to have a unity ritual within a unity ritual? You do? OK, OK… I’m a bad person to ask about this, because even the standard procedures at a wedding are too ritualistic for me. But readers, go to the comments and recommend or invent something delightful for George and Jackie to do, stopping short of humping in front of the congregation.

The bride and groom approach the ceremonial bidet

The bride and groom approach the ceremonial bidet

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stinky surprise

September 3, 2014

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Here’s an email from Claire from Brooklyn, NY. Don’t read it while eating, because it contains the term ‘rancid spunk’. Thanks Claire!

When my husband and I first moved into our current apartment it was a slight fixer upper and I spent an afternoon deep cleaning the kitchen (scrubbing all surfaces, soaping up the fridge, going through cabinets and drawers, etc).

In the process I discovered a used ‘French letter’ wrapped in some takeout napkins. Not to gross you out too much, but the stench was alarmingly horrific! You seem like nice people, so I hope you never have to find out what rancid human spunk smells like. I think being forced to actually realize that rancid spunk is a thing felt as much like a punch in the face as the actual, repellant particles hitting my nose did.

Anyway, we still wonder whether this lovely cadeau was courtesy of our building superintendent (an illicit encounter during the pre-move-in renovation?), or of the previous tenant having a last hurrah after all the trash cans had been loaded into the moving truck.

Who do you think is the likely culprit, and if this had been you, would you have tried to exploit the situation for a deal on rent or other perk? We didn’t say anything-we just speculated ad nauseam about such questions and over a year later, I still think about it sometimes!

By leaving it for more than a year, you’ve rather spunked the opportunity to use this as leverage for cheaper rent. But if you’re so hell-bent on identifying the culprit, Claire, send off that putrid prophylactic to a lab – there’s plenty DNA to be swabbed.

Readers, have you ever found an unpleasant surprise left behind in your new home? Let us know in the comments.

PS Claire, I do admire that you used such a coy expression as ‘French letter’ in the same breath as ‘rancid spunk’.

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small French lunch

September 2, 2014

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Here’s un petit question from Amy:

We are having a debate in the office – how do French people say they’re having a small lunch, if that expression is already bagsied?

As in petit dejeuner, literally small lunch but meaning breakfast? Usually the adjective follows the noun in French, so would that make small lunch ‘un dejeuner petit’? Readers with working knowledge of French, am I right? Help me out in the comments, because I haven’t spoken French since 1994 and my memory is mauvais.

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ulcers: due a comeback?

August 20, 2014

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The following question from Joe got lost on its way to a nostalgia list show:

What happened to ulcers?

Growing up in Canada in the 70’s I remember hearing about people getting ulcers, or worrying about ulcers, but now nobody ever speaks of them. I have some hypotheses:

1. I’m wrong. People still get ulcers and worry about them just like they always have but I am a statistical anomaly living blissfully in an ulcer-free bubble of reality.

2. In the 70’s complaining about ulcers was code for “I need valium”. So nobody really had ulcers; it was all a grownup scam that my child brain didn’t understand. As the fashion in over-the-counter medications have shifted, so to did the disease to which they were attributed.

3. In the intervening years since my youth a cure for ulcers has been discovered so people are diagnosed with them at the same rate as always but they just take a pill and it goes away.

4. Ulcers are now better understood and what we though was one ailment is really a set of sypmtoms that can be atributed to various different causes. So the term itself has been dissolved because medical science has better way to describe the and diagnose the problem(s).

Be it the health of the company I keep, the place in which I live, or the topics deemed suitable for interesting conversations, I have been privy to a consistently small amount of ulcer-chat throughout my life. But readers: can you answer this for Joe? Are his observations correct or not?

Perhaps he’s right and ulcers have simply gone out of fashion in the way of other classic 70s things, like velour bell-bottoms, key parties and Brotherhood of Man.

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shit on a dick

August 19, 2014

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Here’s an appetite-suppressing question from Ciara from Dublin:

I’ve been trying to eat healthily for the past year to lose a bit of weight. Unfortunately that means bringing a lot of strange-looking and -smelling food into work, and getting a lot of weird stares and questions about my odd concoctions of quinoa and lentils.

Recently however, I have developed a food obsession that is rather obscene. I have become completely addicted to almond butter. That alone is ok, but the worst part of my addiction is that I like to eat it smeared on a banana. I lovingly call this “shit on a dick”.

This is fine when I freak my fiancée out at home eating my shit on a dick, banana smeared with almond butter. But I want to eat my banana-almond butter combo in work as well. I’ve taken to sneaking into the kitchen to eat it, but the worry that I’ll get caught is giving me an ulcer.

Answer me this:

Is there any way I can eat my shit on a dick in a socially acceptable manner?

You could start by giving it a name that DOES NOT INDUCE THE HEAVES.

Once you’ve done that, consider presentation. Which looks more pleasant: a whole banana smeared with a lumpy brown substance, or daintily-topped slices of banana that look like little beige canapes? Aesthetics may be the reason why a lot of people prefer to consume their banana and almond butter blended into a smoothie. But you’d just call that ‘diarrhoea’, Ciara, because you’re clearly not to be trusted.

Readers, have you suggestions for prettying up Ciara’s shitty dick snack? Share your classy ways in the comments.

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rich man, poor man

August 7, 2014

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It’s sad to see money coming between friends. Max in London writes:

In ATM294 you discussed the issue between two friends, one of whom made money on the advice of the other. I have a similar problem with my friend (let’s call him Tom) which I worry is going to to ruin our lifelong friendship.

My friend and I went to school together and have been lifelong companions with the same interests, sense of humour etc, and even now that we are grown up and married with children, we don’t live far apart. Until recently we spoke and got together several times a week. Our families always got along well, meeting up regularly, going for meals and we have even gone away for short breaks and on holiday together. Perfect, you might think.

After school Tom and I both went to university and I became a teacher soon after; Tom on the other hand opened his own business. He is a great entrepreneur and soon his business thrived and he now has several very successful operations around the country.

Here lies the crux of the problem. Tom with his success is now very wealthy, while my wife and I live on a very modest income. We struggle to make ends meet he has the best of everything. He has purchased a huge house, thankfully not too far from where we live, drives several expensive cars and so on. Please don’t get me wrong: I don’t begrudge him his success and he truly is the same guy as before, just with more money.

The problem occurs when we share activities together. Tom always wants to do things in style. The ordinary sorts of places we used to go no longer seem good enough so it is always fancy restaurants, expensive hotels etc. Frankly we cannot keep up with the expense. Whenever I we suggested going somewhere more modest he said he would rather not. I tried hinting that we couldn’t afford things he could but this went right over his head, so one day I confronted the issue explaining our position. Being the generous guy he is, Tom said he understood, but said that because he could now afford the best he would pay for me and my family at these places. Suggestions that we eat more modestly were always rejected. I told him that I would feel uncomfortable with him paying, so he told me to pay what we could and he would make up the rest.

My wife and I tried this arrangement for a while, though unhappy with it, even going away on holiday with them to the Bahamas (for which we felt we had to pay a lot more than we could afford and this has left us with many thousands on a credit card). Eventually I talked to Tom again and explained that I really felt uncomfortable with everything and really couldn’t carry on with it. Tom really couldn’t see my point and so there was no real resolution. He thinks I am being ‘proud’ about the money and that he doesn’t mind. Maybe this is the case, but the whole thing doesn’t sit well with me. One remark that really did cut deep was when he referred to me being ‘only a teacher’ and so he didn’t mind ‘subsidising’ things. Another thing that makes me uncomfortable is that my eldest child has remarked how their uncle Tom pays for everything and how we aren’t as rich as them. Am I being proud?

The result is that we see less and less of Tom and his family and our conversations on the phone are awkward. It feels like that we are at an impasse and that eventually we will drift apart.

What should I do?

This is a real pisser, Max. Let’s turn to popular entertainment for assistance:

1. Watch Friends series 2 episode 5, where the group is similarly divided in two by their income disparity. Unfortunately for you, the episode does not offer a proper solution to the problem; it merely resolves it by having Monica losing her job, meaning the poors outnumber the riches. However you may at least take comfort from the fact that your own friendship is not being tested by Hootie and the Blowfish.

2. Watch Trading Places. Go into a little reverie about how you would treat Tom if your situations were reversed, then in real life nudge Tom towards behaving like that. If/when that doesn’t work, consider an evil clandestine scheme for ruining his fortune. Also, look into obtaining a gorilla to help you out of tricky situations.

3. Read Edith Wharton’s The House of Mirth. The travails of Lily Bart may help you realise the folly of trying to keep up with people of significantly different means. Also, ‘Aunt Peniston’. Fnarrrr!

4. Give Tom a copy of Jane Austen’s Emma to show how twatty people are who let their wealth warp their relationships. Also that bloody novel is so horrifically nihilistic, enduring it will be a little punishment for him for making you unhappy.

Readers, can you go to the comments to offer Max some help that is more useful than mine/film and literature’s?

Also, do you think Tom is being a bit of a shitty friend by forcing Max to compromise all the time while never doing so himself? (Not to mention his ‘only a teacher’ twattery?)

Alternatively, is there a socialist paradise to which Max and Tom could relocate, thus erasing this inequality in an instant?

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hen problems

August 6, 2014

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As usual, weddings are festering piles of problems for our listeners. Mary from Doncaster writes:

I am chief bridesmaid at my best friend’s wedding in September. It is the second wedding for them both so we’re all in our 40s (ish).

I have two young children and live a little way away so my friend has arranged for local friends to help organise the Hen Party. This was going really well and I was just left with the task of organising a few silly ideas for the night do, but now one of the party has started buying embarrassing dare games etc which really don’t suit our hen and will be quite embarrassing on the night.

Answer me this, how do I approach this friend and tell her to stop and leave the rest to me?!!

Er…don’t? With these things, it’s easier either to do the whole thing yourself, or stay out of it, and since logistics have steered you largely towards the latter, you can see how the local friends think the party is their domain.

Also, it is thoroughly occasion-appropriate for there to be at least one game to embarrass the hen. I mean, usually I wouldn’t voluntarily play the Mr and Mrs Game, but at my own hen party I understood that the gentle humiliation was all part of the ordealprocess. I’m not suggesting that the hen do ought to be some sort of emotional boot camp for the bride, but it is a ripe opportunity for normal form to be temporarily suspended. Penis-shaped straws, for instance: do you willingly drink through them at any other time? (“Yes Helen! Here at the urology department we refuse to imbibe through anything else.”)

Not convinced, Mary? Then collaboration rather than rivalry is the way to go. If you can’t meet up with the other organiser(s) face to face, have a fun phone chat where you can insinuate your concerns about the dare games, but suggest a suitable alternative with at least a dash of sauce. Even if you don’t want to, other members of the group may desire to make the most of this chance to kick back and forget their Proper Grown-Up Responsible Lives for one night.

But I admit I have never been a bridesmaid (whyyyyy, do all my friends hate me?) and I’m not much of a team player, so haven’t ever contended with this situation myself. Therefore I entreat you readers to deliver advice. Comments. Go. Now!

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what happened next?

August 1, 2014

Message in a Bottle

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Even when questioneers are chronic oversharers, they leave us and you wanting more. Gemma from Manchester but living in Leeds writes:

I’ve been listening to a some of your old podcasts recently on my training runs. (One episode = 5k… It’s a great measurement!!) I would love to know some of the outcomes of the advice you give… So Helen and Olly answer me this, have you heard anything back off the following people:

The guy who found himself on a porn website and didn’t know how it happened?

The guy who was dating his first cousin (20 year age difference)?

The guy who found out he had slept with his wife’s sister when he was younger?

Cupcake Lady!!!

Alright, Cupcake Lady’s easy: we first heard from her in AMT271, then again in AMT272, and finally here, which suggested that though Office Nemesis was still up to her old tricks, Cupcake Lady had found it in herself no longer to condemn but to pity. Cupcake Lady has grown. Cupcake Lady’s psychological journey continues without us as travelling companions.

As for the rest: we only know as much about our questioneers as they tell us. We don’t know what’s going with Dave from Smethwick between calls. We can’t tell you what’s happened to Graham from Canada (we refer you to 2008-vintage episodes from answermethisstore.com to get your fix of Canada’s most inquisitive teen) because we haven’t heard from him in five years. Whither Matthew Seymour from Colchester and Robert from Dumfriesshire and Sarah from Gaytown? What happened in the love triange between Wade and Ana and Ned from Bath? How many more punctures has Jessii accrued?

So, if you’re one of the people about whom Gemma is curious, please go to the comments and divulge what happened next in your story. In fact, if we’ve ever answered one of your questions, let us know the outcome, for better or worse. Disclaimer: we accept no responsibility for having ruined your life.

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