___________________________________________________________________________________
Dear KortKnee,
I recently wrote you seeking help for my personal dilemma. You graciously responded with what I felt at the time was outstanding advice. I have followed it to the proverbial tee. So the question I now have is this. Will you be my co-defendant in the legal action now being taken against me as a direct result of following your advice (civil suit, breach of promise, restraining order, and the like)?

Can I count on you for support (emotional as well as financial) during my upcoming trials (metaphorical as well as actual)? I am beginning to have a much clearer understanding of why the dog may have attempted suicide. Were you advising the dog as well? Now that my life is in complete shambles (as opposed to only a few minor issues a week ago), do you have any more advice for me? Obviously some people take it seriously and can become quite vindictive (see above, law suit, breach of promise, restraining order, and the like) when you make them promises of things like trips alone to sunny warm places and free child care and housekeeping in their absence and then don't follow through, so it might be best if you keep it simple.

My questions are: I keep coming over the top and pulling every shot, is there a quick and easy fix? What do you think about older men dating younger women? Is W as dumb as he looks? Will it ever stop raining and conversely, will the sun ever shine again? If silver bullets are used on vampires, what are gold bullets used on? How young is too young? How old is too old? When is enough really enough?
I am
Anxiously awaiting your reply

Dear Anxious for Good Reason (and I mean that in the fondest way),
Of course you can count on me for emotional, financial, legal, and most especially metaphorical support. Any time. But I can’t, or at least, won’t help you with your golf swing. Waste o’ time.

But wait! You misconstrued my advice. I didn’t realize you were looking for a phony line that you had no intention of actually carrying through on. Dammit, I hate that. Now I know how Einstein felt.

In a vague way, you remind me of a friend I used to know, he was smart and funny and a good Democrat. In fact, I’m pretty sure he was George McGovern’s second best friend, or second cousin or something, and he also invented the weekend. (Have you seen those bumper stickers? “Organized Labor: The People Who Brought You the Weekend.” And while we’re on the subject of bumper stickers, I saw another one yesterday: “I love my mother-in-law because she kicks ass.” I didn't even know this thought existed in the universe, let alone was available for posting on a car.) But I stray from the point. This guy, he turned 50 recently, I think his friends wanted to buy him a shot of top shelf whiskey or something, but he went bowling that day instead, and then decided to support Clark. Go figure. Anyway, he used to be the sort of guy who told me a joke every single day, but lately, well. . . Hey, how did we get on him?

Back to you. You ask my opinion on older men dating younger women. If you want snarky judgmental advice, there are places to go for that. But here, I’m just going to say, um, maybe a red car would have been less hassle? But seriously, you are now the designated driver of a delicate young little heart and there’s way too much nastiness in the world already, so be careful and kind and most of all honest. I recommend that you snap out of it, tie up all of these loose ends in the gentlest way possible, and go to P.V. to play golf with your injured buddy. I bet he would cook for you.

We thankfully can’t answer the question about gold bullets. Because as of yet, it hasn't been used, right? But that could change.
N’3lvra

P.S. That was an irritable little comment about the dog. When a dog is found passed out with a spilled bottle of aspirin all around, it's easy to leap to conclusions, but she may have just had a headache.

______________________________________________________________
Dear El-vira3CPO,
I am so glad you have decided to run this column for those of us who are obviously misfits and losers. It appears we are drawn to this sort of thing like slugs to that stuff "Sluggo". My dilemma is that, it being January, quite frankly, the thrill is gone (BB King). Nothing is fun, nothing is glorious, and I want to go someplace warm for one or two YEARS, get away from my annoying family (can you say estrogen?) and lie unconscious in a grass hut. I just wander around the house like a sewing machine that has just finished sewing a turd to a garbage can lid. (Richard Brautigan) Can you feel my pain? (Clinton Or Bush?) Except for that one letter to the poor kid with a psycho mother where you wrote about the rat race and the cheese, my EEG line reads flat. Please PleaseMr. Postman, (Martha and the Vs?) send my e-mail to Cortneigh Now, I need a letta. I just want to be twirling around the house singing Scooby Dooby Doo(Sinatra already) with that margarita in my hand (double salt) like all the other girls in your column.
Signed,
Laura Petrie


Dear Ms. Petrie,

Have I ever told you that I really like your hair? Or your heir, I forget which. Your letter was thought provoking, and unlike the letter writer with the boring job, which I couldn’t even begin to fathom, I can completely relate to the flat-liner life. And yes, I can say estrogen. But dammit, why should I always have to? Huh? What, you think I'm angry, does that mean you think I'm angry? (Dar Williams).

But here’s my point. Not to make this all about me or anything, but, the best dream I could come up with at the moment is to ask people to write to me about their pitiful tiny lives. Not to put too fine a point on it, but this advice column is my dream come true. The unexamined life: Courtneigh finds that she's happiest, hands over ears, eyes tightly closed, singing "LA LA LA" loudly. There's a word for that.

Are we too old for Richard Brautigan, by the way? It seems like the correct answer is yes, but still. “Her voice had a new gentle quality, like it was a tiny soft candle in a giant cathedral that was built for a religion that never quite got going; no worship had ever taken place there.” Is that it, Ms. Petrie?

Stop by the grass hut, like tonight. Seriously.

CortKnee

___________________________________________________________________________________
Dear Courtnaaaay,
I am an avid weekend golfer, and recently due to a injury, I am not able to play golf for about 2 months. Needless to say, I have had a lot of free time on the weekends. Lately, I have been doing quite a bit of cooking to pass the time. I can cook, but really don't like to because cooking and cleaning up is a lot harder than just going out to eat. I don't want this to be my usual routine. How can I convince myself that golf is more important than cooking.

Signed
Lost

Dear Lost,
Now Cort-Nee is lost. Kort-Nee doesn't believe swimming upstream is a good idea, unless of course, you're a fish. Don't spend so much effort talking yourself into difficult beliefs. Golf, more important than food: Of course you're having trouble convincing yourself.

Maybe it's not such a bad routine after all.

N'3lvra

Court knee
I am really bored at work. I find no excitement in the daily tasks. My 9:00 coffee break is the highpoint of my day and it has already come and gone. I leave at the end of the day empty. Can I make it to lunch? What should I do to spice up my day.

Working the blues

Dear Blue,
I'm so sorry to hear of this, how you say, ennui, that you experience at work. It's hard for me to imagine this kind of thing, because, well, um, my job is Very Important, as well as stimulating, creative, and highly valued by Random People. So, I apologize in advance if I seem insensitive to your boredom.

But back to you. If the coffee break at nine isn't working, have you considered heroin at 10, mushrooms at 11, this sort of thing? Of course N'3lvra is just kidding.

Kort-Knee

______________________________________________________________
Dear Courtney,

Here’s a tiny (that word again) problem: pathetic stupid email being forwarded to me by well-meaning but pathetic acquaintances. You know the email – it’s either the “aren’t good friends just the most precious and lovable and cuddly and beautiful thing, and you’re getting this email because I wuv you, and pass this on to 10 people you’re afraid might commit suicide if they don’t hear that you’re their friend immediately” or the other category, the “my sister-in-law’s haberdasher’s babysitter wants to warn everyone about the scam where talented actor-criminals dress up like little old ladies, approach you in a mall parking lot, and remove several of your vital organs for sale on the black market, and you wake up in a court of law on trial for stealing the secret family recipe to the Neiman-Marcus chocolate-chip cookies. BE VERY AREFUL! THIS REALLY HAPPENED TO HER! FORWARD THIS ON TO EVERYONE YOU KNOW”. It’s one thing when it’s from some email address you don’t know – you just hit Delete. But what does Courtney suggest when you get these about once a month from people you KNOW? I’m sorry to generalize, but in every case for me it is from unhappy, lonely middle-aged women (some married, some not) who, in this writer’s opinion, are a little on the edge of Serious Depression themselves. What are they THINKing? In the case of Urban Legends, how many times do I have to gently write back and point them to www.snopes.com ? And while I can see the novelty (right after you get your first email account) of forwarding any of these mass emails on maybe one, or two, or 10 times, beyond that we need to return to having a life, don’t we?

My question for you may be slightly different than what you’ve been anticipating – I just need your professional opinion on whether a patent would already be taken on a system which detects anyone forwarding email containing the text “forward this to everyone you know”, reaches a mechanical hand out from the computer and throttles the sender?

Sincerely,
An Email Grouch

Dear E-Grouch, the writer formerly known as E,
I am for this invention. If it comes with features, can you please add the one for slapping people who a) don't reply to all when they should, and b) reply to all when they shouldn't? And more importantly, those who don't reply at all. I find that so provoking.

But why all the pathetic acquaintances? Huh? Makes no sense. Be done with these people already. Life is WAY too short for downer cows.

Cort-Nee

______________________________________________________________
Dear Courtney:

I am inherently desperate and lonely, and, therefore, I am intrigued by your last letter writer and her predicament about sharing a room with someone...more specifically, given my lonely, desperate state, I think this is a great opportunity for her and I to share a room. I would guess that she would be more than happy to sleep with me because I am not just "anybody." I'm not really sure what the whole weekend thing is about, but it does not really matter..... It is unlikely that I will reject her, however, I am leaving this option open....just in case she gets all obnoxious and stuff....or something takes a dark turn.

What do ya think?

Sincerely,

Not just "anybody"

Dear Nobody,
It is lucky for you that I haven't gotten much mail today, or your letter would definitely not make it into this important advice column. But then I thought, hey, if I'm not here to help the people with big problems, what am I here for? And when I think of big problems, you come to mind.

It's time for you to start getting involved in the community (not in that way, you creep!). Maybe feeding the hungry, building homes for the homeless, stuff like that. Stop lusting after your dental hygienist, accupuncturist, hair cutter, traffic engineer, people who write to my column, etc., and get a real life.
N'3lvra

___________________________________________________________________________________
Dear Courtney,
I am going on a weekend trip where I'll have to share a room with a bunch of other folks. The registration form allows for “room-sharing” preferences. I realized that I would feel more comfortable with some of the potential attendees than others, but I don’t know if that’s all mutual … and that’s what makes me wonder how to approach this … umm … situation.

1) I don’t want to sleep with just *anybody*
2) I don’t really know if those who I wouldn’t mind sleeping with are actually going to be available
3) I don’t want to appear obnoxious
4) I don’t want to be rejected

I will not change my position on issue 1), and I might be able to find out about 2). Therefore, 3) and 4) remain as the core issues that need advice: How do I ask someone about this without appearing obnoxious and how do I minimize the risk of rejection??

Thanks for your advice!

Signed,
Sleepness Sorta Near Seattle


Dear Sleepless,
When you say that, I hear that you want me to go on a trip with you, somewhere warm for a week or two. (I learned these excellent listening skills in Advice Column College, which sounds easy but it's not, it's just like regular college without the content.)

I'd probably say yes, because I'm with you on hating rejection.

N'3lvra

___________________________________________________________________________________
Dear Court-Knee,
My mom is a nutcase, and has a very unusual sense of humor. I am afraid to accompany her in public places, because I am afraid that she will do something spontaneous and embarrassing, and ruin my reputation. I am afraid everyone will make fun of ME, because of her actions. Most people who know her would agree with me. Should I take her to a doctor? What is the best solution to this tremendous problem that I call a mother?
~Offspring of the essence of freak

Dear Offspring,
I'm so sorry to hear about your mother. You sound like a fine young person. In fact, if you were my daughter, I'd find you the hugest bright spot, you'd be basically a reason to keep getting up in the morning. I'd try to run really fast in the rat race to bring you lots of good cheese, because you sound um, like a vegetarian, and I mean that in the fondest way possible.

I don't know what's wrong with your mother. I'm so sorry. If you were my daughter, I think I would give up everything, starting with the "blunt scissors and throrazine" look that comes to me without even trying, believe it or not, and go for something more June Cleaver-ish. I'd drive a mini-van and focus more on bake sales, less on this stupid advice column. If I actually had a sense of humor, I'd suppress it completely, on the off chance that it could embarrass you. But that's just me.

Back to your mother. Should you take her to the doctor? Well, you'd have to be seen with her out in public, and I can totally imagine how humiliating that could be. So maybe not. Maybe you could send her somewhere warm, by herself for a few weeks. Maybe that's all she needs.

Forever Yours,
Kort-Nee

P.S. Do you know where all of the towels have gone? I sometimes find them wadded up in your room, I hope that's not it.

____________________________________________________________________________________
Dear N’3lvra,
I have a real problem. My cubemate seems obsessed with food. He eats his lunch at his desk at 10 them is trolling for snacks and munching again by afternoon. Here’s the real problem, though, he’s a noisy eater. The smacking and chomping drive me insane. The rub is, he’s also my supervisor, so I feel like I can’t just tell him to keep is freakin’ mouth shut when he eats. What do I do?

Sincerely,

Masticating madness

Dear Madness,
You could do what Courtney does, which is to wear giant hearing defenders at work. You know, the kind that baggage handlers wear. I find that this drowns out practically everything, and has an added bonus: When random downer cows come into your cubicle, you can don a pleasant facial expression that means, "I can't hear you, exactly, but I'm way too busy with my important work to take my huge ear muffs off." I don't have the eating thing going on, it's whistling. But back to you. I fear that in your case, there might be some unpleasant aromas (microwave popcorn, for example?), in which case I'd recommend giant nose plugs.

N'3lvra

____________________________________________________________________________________
Dear KortKnee,

I have heard very good things about the sage advice you impart and I am hoping you can help me with my problem(s). I have been single for a while and am beginning to think about a new relationship. I need your insights and womanly wisdom on the best way to approach and make a good impression on the women I hope to meet at my upcoming family reunion. Are there any opening lines that have been successful with you that you would like to share? What should I talk about? Me??? I am sooo

Confused

Dear Confused,
Well, what a difficult question to answer. There's always the "be yourself" route, but that can be iffy, depending on who you are. For example, just hypothetically, if you happen to have any weird personal history, like say your ex-wife had her wedding ring melted down and formed into a bullet, um, let's just say, keep that to yourself for a while. Kort-Knee has not really been the recipient of many opening lines, but one that I think would be pretty successful is, "Hey, could I send you on a trip by yourself somewhere warm for a week or two while I just hang around and do some chores at your house and get up every few hours with your senile needy dog? Then, when you come back, if you feel like it, we could have dinner together or something." I think that would work.

N'3lvra gently suggests that maybe a family reunion isn't the best place to meet women.

Courtney

_________________________________________________________________________________
Dear Ms. Love,
Leonardo Da Vinci lived a long time ago and designed flying machines that wouldn't fly. Van Gogh, on the other hand, was a relatively modern painter who cut off his ear to spite his face (and if you've seen his self-portraits, you know why he was feeling spiteful). How can you expect to succeed as an advice columnist without the help of a professional fact checker?

But that's not my question (if a rhetorical insult can in fact be called a question at all). My question is this -- why does the American Liberal base his/her presidential preference on who they think OTHER people will vote for? Rather than choose the candidate whose platform best articulates their own political vision, they ask only one question: who can beat Bush? Who is "electable?" As if second-guessing the American electorate were possible, or desirable. If a CNN poll showed that Ozzy Osbourne was the only man polling stronger than George W, would the Democrats nominate him? The logic escapes me. Please elucidate.

Thanks,

Snarky Kerfuffle

Dear Snarky,
Oh, right, the facts. DaVinci, Last Supper. VanGogh, Starry Night. Michelangelo, David. Brancusi, the Kiss. Everyone knows about VanGogh, his ear, and his generous brother Theo. But most people don't know this about Leonardo: While he was writing backwards with his left hand in his journal, he accidentally cut off his other ear. (Yes, I said other. We'll save that story for another time.) It was later sold to Michael Jackson on E-Bay, well, maybe not on e-bay, but a different auction, the same one that handled the Elephant Man. Bet you didn't know that.

No, I made all of that up. The ugly truth is: I can't afford a team of fact checkers yet. Would you rather have thousands of pop-ups for netflix and the little blue pill when you open my column, or the occasional factual error, which is merely a reflection of how N'3lvra gets distracted by compassion when working on a Big Problem? Readers? (Said confidently, as if there actually are readers.)

And speaking of facts, the name is KORT-KNEE. You, Mr. Snarky , are aptly named, while the moniker you applied to me pertains not at all. I'm running an advice column here, by the way, not an art history lesson. Oh, wait, I just got it. (I'm slow, but look at the hour.) I'm not that Courtney! I think she's in jail, rehab, or court, but without fact checkers, how would I know?

Moving on to your question: Can you say Ralph Nader? At least I think that's the answer. Although you don't see N'3lvra following this trend, at least not until November. Go Kucinich. Because I'm a fan of the Benjamin Franklin True Patriot Act (or was that Thomas Edison?), among other things. You raise an excellent point, wouldn't it be a beautiful world if we were able to vote for a candidate because we actually agree with their positions. But don't blame those people who are voting for Clark. We all want the same stuff, believe it or not. Be gentle with them, they're just very discouraged.

Write again, because after your most discrediting letter, my tiny readership may have plummeted.

Advertently,
N'3lvra, 3 is silent.

P.S. Thanks for your kindness yesterday. Proves my point that contrary to this grumpy, hair-splitting little post, you are actually gracious and thoughtful and on the up and up.

P.P.S. You are not the only alert reader who didn't know the secret story about DaVinci and his ear.

_________________________________________________________________________________
Dear person whose name confuses me on a good day,

I am troubled because everyone's workplace seems to be so trendy, cool, and hip. What am I doing working for an actuary whose idea of excitement is to change the Pepsi in the soda machine to Coke and see who notices. E-mails at my worksite consist of people advising each other on types of wool socks or plumbing control issues. Does this sound fun to you?

Everyone lunches at a nearby buffet restaurant known in many social segments to be the determining factor in intestinal disorders. Do you have any advice for a person like me whose wardrobe consists mainly of taupe and who actually enjoys listening to the music in the supermarket while perusing the aisle for stewed tomatoes? Any help you can offer is appreciated. May the Godesses of Advice shine sweetly on you tonight my fine friend.

Daphne

Dear Daphne, (btw, I'm hip to your alias, but I'll protect your cover if that's what you need),

Um, well sweetie, it hardly seems likely that your workplace is boring if you're in it. Seriously. I have insider info on this. In fact, this seems like a phony letter to me, the first I've had, believe it or not. But if you're that bored, quit your stupid job, come hang out with me in the grass hut. Your kids are old enough.

Or, if that won't work, tell your rich husband to send us on a trip. Apparently we both need it.

Either way, write again soon. We need that too.
Love,
Cort-Nee

_________________________________________________________________________________
Dear N'3lvra,
Thanks for the response, and quite timely I must say which is important to me. I know you're not the type to delete without reading.

I would like to focus on my dreams of being a rock star groupie, although I think I'd rather be a roadie, without all the heaving lifting, but my husband has forbid me to buy concert tickets, with just cause. Let's just say I wasted a lot of money on tickets this summer. I've had another thought. I'm thinking bout picking up an accent. The cool accent right now is the blaccent. I swear I didn't make that up to be a racist, I heard about it on VH-1 and was glad a phrase had been coined to describe the phenomenon I had observed in white pop stars like Britney Spears and Christina Aguilera. I am going to pick up the accent the old actors like Audrey Hepburn and Carey Grant had. I'm not sure where it came from or where it went, but it's kind of British without the bad teeth, you know? I think it will earn a lot of respect. Another plus is people won't question a martini lunch and the open bar in my living room. A glass with ice is required at all times. Do you think it will work or will people see through my charade (pronounced sha-rod with my new accent)?

Sincerely,

3/8 Wit

Dear Super Intuition,
If I go on vacation, will you write this column? (A girl can dream, can't she?) I think the blaccent is a great idea. (Pronounced E-DAY-A). And you're right, you do have good teeth.

About the concert tickets, well, I'd have to agree with your husband on this matter. Jane's Addiction? Come on. But a Roadie without the heavy lifting. Yes, I'm for that.

Of course I'm timely (can you say, perhaps N'3lvra has no life?)

Courtney

_______________________________________________________________
Dear dsfkj;45$%w,

My dearest friend is swearing at me a lot all of a sudden, and threatening to cut off her arm. Should I be concerned? Also, many days I kind of hate my husband, but that is secondary. What should I do about my friend?

Dear Friend,
I think I'm missing some context. Also, it's a little hard to hear your e-mail. It seems like you're very far away, maybe even in another hemisphere. So my advice might be way off.

Did your friend mention any reasons why she might be cutting off her arm? Like, did she happen to say, "I miss you like my left arm," and then threaten to cut it off, a la DaVinci? No offense, but your friend sounds a little bit strange. Are you sure she's actually swearing at you? Maybe she has an unusual name laden with miscellaneous characters that make it look like she's swearing, but really, it just means she needs medication. Could it be that?

Please write again. I doubt I could help you with your husband issues, but maybe there's something else.

Chop chop,
Courtney

________________________________________________________________
Dear N'3lvra
I really want to write a witty question to my favorite advice columnist, but since I have been home without much adult interaction, I feel all my wit has dried up. What should I do? My driving has also gone downhill, can't focus... I feel I am losing the most valued parts of my identity. Why can't I lose the constant judging and irritability? The good thing is I still have my super intuition, so I know how you will respond.

Sincerely,
Half Wit

P.S. Tell Bright Spot that the odds are that I am also drinking alone, so in fact, neither of us are alone. Mmmm, on the rocks with salt.
P.P.S. Also, Too Many Times Looked Over should feel flattered people think he's gay. No one has ever thought I was gay, except for this one time a friend of mine's sister thought I was gay because I didn't want to be in a sorority.
P.P.P.S. Did you see Dean make a fool of himself singing the National Anthem all wrong?
P.P.P.P.S. When are you coming to visit us?


Dear Super Intuition,
I knew it. This whole project was practically a ruse to get you to write to me, and it worked! The thing that strikes me is: this is you with your wit all dried up! The rest of us are wishing we could be so dried up, that's all I'm saying about that. N'3lvra suggests you focus on these parts of your identity: rock star groupie, radio contest winner, runway model. Driving, for crissakes, just hire someone already.

Fortunately, I missed Howard Dean singing the National Anthem. I've grown weary of him, his bad haircut, and especially that vein in his forearm that just seems so, um, well, angry. My man is Kucinich, who actually doesn't even eat honey because of cruelty to bees issues. I don't think he'd have that forearm vein problem like Dean. My son, on the other hand, says about Kucinich, "Cleveland? Mayor of Cleveland? The sheets were so moist in Cleveland." That's my boy. Building an educated electorate begins at home, I suppose.

Is that how you thought I'd respond?
Cort-Nee

P.S. I'm glad you didn't join the sorority.

_____________________________________________________________
Dear Courtney,
Because my office building doesn’t have a deli of it’s own, an outside place comes in and sets up a little lunch selection for us every day. There is always a hot entrée, sandwiches and a pre-made salad. The problem is, the greedy guys in the office go through the hot line, which is self serve and based on the honor system for portions, and pile up their plates. If I get there even 15 minutes after lunch starts there is often no hot food left and I have to eat a smooshed sandwich or a tasteless salad. What should I do?

Sincerely,

Longing for lunch

Dear Longing,
Why am I not surprised. Push ahead of those mean boys already. By the way, what could be so important that you'd be 15 minutes late for lunch?
Cort-Nee

_____________________________________________________________
Dear Courtney,

I have a fairly decent acquaintance whom I admire quite a lot. She has recently decided to take up writing an advice column, and I fear it will take away from some of the attention she is able to lavish on her oh-so-needy ENFP acquaintances, yours truly being one of them. Now, I realize she needs diversion in her life, and until people start pronouncing the "3" she may stay with it (that's an inside joke so don't worry that you're not getting it). I would never want her to stop, because she's hysterical and the world needs way, way more humor, especially with what Bush is up to thes-- but I'm straying. I'm sure she will still direct her processing of all of life's obsessions my way, which I dearly enjoy, and it makes me feel useful in a tiny way, but still... I guess my question is, can someone really have time to write an advice column AND have an affair at the same time?

Signed,
E

Dear E,
Boy, I wish I had a friend like you. I'm not even sure if you're male or female, but with such a nice letter, I for one would follow Bright Spot's lead and realize it doesn't matter much. You sound like a very attentive and kind person, unlike some of the other people who write to me. And you're right, with what Bush is up to, we need way more of that stuff. Now, I don't know about your friend, but speaking for myself, I would definitely have time for an affair AND running this important advice column. But again, you'd have to ask him or her to know for sure.
Affectionately,
Cort-Nee (INFP, so I almost know what you mean)
P.S. I liked the way you slipped the word "tiny" in there.

_____________________________________________________________
Dear Cort-Nee, Can you ask the meddler to 'check out' the guy who should be playing on the other team see if we might be a match?
Bright Spot

Dear Bright Spot,
Now there's some thinkin' outside of the box. But trust me, I know this fellow, and he's not your type. (Don't you remember, he has the tiniest little arrogance problem? Like, two posts ago? Maybe you shouldn't drink so much if you've already forgotten that.) And remember, No Salt.

Dear Cort-Nee,
I have a feeling that people ignore me, sometimes by accident but mostly by choice, and all the time -- including when I'm not around or when I'm asleep. It's becoming painful because I like beer and scotch and wine and margaritas (on the rocks with salt), but they say you should not drink alone because that means you have other big problems that require the help of social tea-clubs like AA and expensive shrinks. How do I get more notice and respect from my family, professional peers, Jerry Springer, and my bartender?

The grey shadow on a dark day

Dear Bright Spot,
Oh Contraire, you are not a grey shadow. Have I been telling you for years to focus on your book, get me a good deal on a hot tub, dump the girl in Oregon? (Okay, so she already dumped you. Details.) Maybe just skip the salt. It's not good for you.

_____________________________________________________________
Dear N'3lvra,
I have 2 friends who I think might be great for each other. One runs an advice column. But they're both a little shy (well, more than a little. We could use the term "social freaks". See, he's a math professor who writes a brainteaser column, and she's an advice-columnist wanna-be with an unpronouncable name. Do I make my point?)

Without creating an awkward situation, how should I go about introducing them?
Signed
The Meddler

Dear My favorite customer from yesterday (and hopefully tomorrow),
You're wondering how I knew it was you. Aha, you came in and dictated the letter to me, remember? And then you looked a little familiar from having lunch together every day for the past 3 years, so I put two and two together, and voila. It's those kind of deductive powers that make it clear why I'm writing the column, and you're writing for advice. But darn, we're all out of time, maybe we'll get to your question another day.
Fondly,
Courtney

__________________________________________________________________________________
Dear Courtney:

I find myself writing to you again, for another problem has erupted in my life. You see, I feel my coworker (lets call him Ddot) is trying to persuade me to bat for the other team-ya, know, become gay-not that there is anything wrong with that….but….it is just not for me. You must help, for in an attempt to wear me down, Ddot is playing all these psychological mind games on me. You see, Ddot keeps relentlessly claiming that I am gay, but that I just don’t realize it. He somehow thinks that I am in denial. It seems, however, that he might be gay and in denial. For example, Dott’s best friend in college “became” gay after living with Ddot (I’m sure this is due to Ddot’s psyche games), and although Ddot is currently married, he seems to always look me up and down. Sometimes he even drops things so that I bend over to pick them up-my ears burn and I just know he is checking out my goods.

What can I do to stop this? Do you think that Ddot is gay and trying to get me??? If so, what should I do? If not, could the problem be that I am so damn good looking that he cannot help himself (poor Ddot, caught in my ever present web of attraction). Oh my God, could it be that I in jeopardy of persuading the entire male gender to convert? Another guy, Noj, also checks me out a lot…….

Thanks for your help,

Too many times looked over

Dear Too Many Times,
(Or maybe, not enough times? Sorry, just wondering.) I think you should just enjoy the attention and wear that shiny shirt more, you know, the one your sister sent you. At least someone wants you on their team, for which you should be grateful, especially with that damned attitude of yours.

_____________________________________________________________
Dear N"3lvra / Cort-Nee,
1) How do I tell my dearest of dear friends that she is whacko and getting more so every day?
2) What time is lunch?
3) What's for lunch?


My Dear Favorite Customer,
Maybe it's in your favor that she's getting more whacko every day. Just maybe, it could be way worse. Have you ever considered that? About lunch: please don't pretend I have any say in the matter. I'm way too smart to fall for that.

Fondly,
Courtney
P.S. Hurry up, I'm getting hungry, and also, how about QdOba?

Dear Courtney,

Stick it in your ear! Where are the words of support?


Dear Mr. Out of This World,
You're wondering how I knew it was you. Aha, I recognized the font from your last letter. On your way to the game store for Dungeons and Dragons, would you please pick up a pack of cigarettes for me? N'3lvra has just decided to take up smoking.
Get it, Mr. Smarty Pants?
Cort-Nee

Dear Courtney,

I am in need of your advice. Every afternoon around 3:00 my neighbor loses his sanity and becomes very distracting. I can barely answer the phone without receiving attacks, rubber objects hurled at high rates of speed into my working space. I do not want to be rude to my co-worker but how can I stay billable with this racket?

Truly,
Bewitched

Dear Bewitched (which appears to be a misnomer, but that's for another letter),

It's time for us to have the personal responsibility talk, little missy. I mean, who owns this problem? Does your job not supply mosquito netting that could be used to cover your cubicle ceiling? (regarding your workplace: Is it, or is it not prepared for West Nile Virus? Huh?) Couldn't you knit some protective gear, or wear a helmet? It totally takes two to get into a bad relationship, that's all I'm saying. Would you cross the street without looking both ways? And furthermore, who are these people calling you at 3:00? What do they want? Do you even want to talk to them? Are they fun? Wait, why aren't they calling me?! Shouldn't you be downstairs with The Boys having a soda at 3? Frankly, I find the entire situation quite inexplicable. Billability schmillability.
Yours,
N'3lvra (pronounced Cort-Nee, the 3 is silent)

_____________________________________________________________
Dear Courtney:

Please help me, for I feel so alone.... You see, my superb intellect is such that few people understand me. As such, I have trouble identifying with people and this leaves me feeling empty and alone. All these stupid people muddle around in the blind dumbness and cannot seem to comprehend my actions, excellent verbal banter, and/or humor. I try to lower myself to their dog-like mental level; however, the bleakness of it suffocates me. Courtney, what should I do????

Sincerely,

Too smart for this world.

Dear Mr. Out of this World,

It seems like perhaps, if you chose to apply a shred of your elephantine intellect towards developing empathy, sensitivity, or an actual personality, you might find some friends. Or, you could take up Dungeons and Dragons. You pick.

Sincerely, N'3lvra (pronounced Courtney, but you probably already knew that, smartypants.)