Ask Me About My Fantasy Quidditch Team!
None of my friends seem to care about my fantasy football woes when I bring it up in conversation. How can I make them care?
— Baller in Burleson
Nobody will every care about your fantasy football woes.
Real talk, fantasy football is about as interesting as you Instagramming your morning scrambled eggs.
Nobody will ever care.
Now that we've gotten that out of the way, what is the point of fantasy football? Whose fantasy is this? If I had a fantasy football team, I would fill it up with dragons, or maybe with The Pips from Gladys Knight & The Pips.
If I was going to make it a super awesome fantasy team, I would ditch football entirely and make it a fantasy Quidditch team. And then I would put professional football players on my fantasy Quidditch team. And then I would take the football players off of my fantasy team and replace them with lawn gnomes.
Hey, it's my fantasy.
It's pretty much a foregone conclusion that I'm going to run into some classmates of mine from high school over the Thanksgiving holiday. I'm sure some of them have kids now and Masters degrees and hot spouses from exotic locations. Any thoughts on how I can make my retail gig seem more glamorous when I inevitably have to speak with them? Or should I make up some other story about what I've done with my life? If the latter, any suggestions?
— Underemployed in Oak Cliff
I'm guessing you've never seen Romy and Michelle's High School Reunion.
Lying never really works out, especially since they can probably just look you up on Facebook. Or find your Livejournal. Or your Twitter feed where you frequently employ such hashtags as #retailsucks #killmenow #cantwaitforlunchbreak and #cripplingdepression.
My suggestion is just “do you.” If these Masters degree folks throw any shade, just brush it off. I mean, yeah, their spouse might be hot, but how do you quantify a life's worth by things like that? I bet their Pokemon card collection is pretty lacking.
I'm also sure that, if they have kids, they're probably worried about what the kid-less people are thinking of them. Anxieties around!
Also, the only thing wrong with retail is that it is an undervalued job that gets shafted by our attitudes about minimum wage. I've worked retail for years, and, if that makes anyone think any less of me, then, frankly, they are welcome to bury themselves alive with my Coca-Cola novelty spoon.
Sidenote: If you're trying to seem more glamorous, may I suggest voguing?
I can't bake, but I promised someone I would donate a pie for this charity event. The thing is, I didn't ever get it done in time, and I can't just go buy one because that would go against my moral code and it would feel cheap. How do I lie to the person I owe the pie to and let them down easy?
— Slacking in Sunnyvale
What the hell is wrong with you? There's serious cognitive dissonance going on right here. You mention that buying a non-homemade pie goes against your “moral code,” and, in the very next sentence, you ask how you can lie to somebody?
Just buy a stupid pie at the store! I do it all the time, and it doesn't feel cheap! It feels more like, “Look at all the time, energy, and money I saved by buying this pie instead of attempting to make it because I just admitted that I can't bake!”
I feel like if I were your friend, I would probably buy my own pie and throw it at you for lying to me.
Actually, I've thrown pies at my friends before. Always provoked. Most always provoked.
Actually, I am not sure if there was any provocation involved, but pie-throwing is seriously fun.
Why would I waste time making a pie when I know I'm just going to throw it at one of my friends?
Also, please email me your address so I can throw a pie at you.
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