True Enough for You's Unsolicited Help Line
In order to find people who need our advice, we did not pass go or collect $200, went straight to our favorite Crazy lightning-rod, craigslist. Let's face it, it "crazy" equalled "cute," then craigslist would be a bag of kittens with rosy cheeks, eating tiny cakes pastries with mini-silverware.
Help is on the way!
To the guy painting our hallway yesterday - m4m - 37
We joked about you starting early. Didn't you notice my eyes glued to your crotch? Why don't you paint the back of my throat white?
We're all for flirting with the help. Heck, sometimes we even let the cleaning lady catch a glimpse of Senor Winkles. And don't even ask why Nando from Comcast came to "repair" our "cable box" 3 times in one week back in October. But a painter? Really?
Painters are clearly insane. First of all, most of them don't even have real jobs because they are taking time out to concentrate on their "art." They live in their parents' basement and dance at the Khyber every weekend. Sometimes they even wear messy clothes out just to let you know how "artistic" they are. Ew! That Van Gogh dude cut off his ear and sent it to his brother! You'd be much better off flirting with the dishwasher at any local restaurant, espeically one of the Starr establishments.
Anyway, if you must go through with whatever odd ritual you have planned for your painting buddy, we would be remiss if we didn't warn you about the dangers of lead poisoning. For some reason or another, you want this painter to paint the back of your throat white (not the most slimming color and it is after Labor Day, just saying). Maybe this turns you on? We once knew someone in college that liked his kneecap sucked, but we never talked to him. Please make sure that whatever paint your artiste uses is low in lead content or you may go so crazy that the next thing you know, you'll be on craigslist trying to screw a graphic designer.
I get butterflies in my stomach when I see you and talk to you. I forget about my boyfriend when I'm around you; and I was so reluctant to tell you I'm taken. I know you were disappointed to hear it too. If I weren't so against cheating, I'd love the thrill of ravaging you somewhere, anywhere, going absolutely crazy together. Please understand that I do love him, and he is one of the only great things in my life right now. Also understand, I am incredibly infatuated with you, and maybe all we need is a little more harmless flirtation...
(and if the time ever comes when I'm single again, the first person I will be thinking of is you)
Maybe next time your letter should read:
Hold on to your hat. The universe may actually collapse on itself at this very moment because I have defied the laws of metaphysics and found a way to be a slut and cocktease all at the same damn time. If you're ever interested in dating me after I break up with my probably awesome boyfriend, so that I can write lame craigslist posts behind your back, then let me know. But until then, we should "harmlessly" flirt while I drop it Cybil-style on your ass with all of my personalities. Regardless, I look forward to being single and lonely someday and wondering how it all happened. Until then, I will concentrate on my chlamydia (you want to talk about ravaging, yikes!), since, as aforementioned, I am a whore.
Or am I?"
Don't you think that would be easier? Please update us on how it all goes.
Looking for Lisa Vincaguerra AKA Val -or- Valorie Preston
Do you know her? It's important!!
Isn't it funny how Lisa Vincaguerra A/K/A Val or Valorie Preston is always in the last place you look!?
Try the pantry. You might have left her in there while you were unloading your groceries.
As a last ditch effort, look behind the couch. Many who say they have "found Jesus" say that he was there the entire time!
It sucks that you're such a mean bitch.
Both the person who posted this gem and Janette should contact us post-haste, because I have a feeling you're both amazing and we would get on swimmingly. Call us!
Finally, to the person who posted all the lyrics to the Smiths' "Heaven Knows I'm Miserable Now" and attached to it a picture of poo, give up. Even if Doctor Phil himself worked here at True Enough For You, there wouldn't be enough boundless compassion to help you. You're the thrid horseman of the Crazy-apocalypse. Just give up now.
Need help? Drop us a line at our brand spankin' new email address:
Maybe you could tell me why I can't get pictures to work today.