Dear Cortknee,

My dear friend Lola told me I should write to you. You see while on our women's retreat, I shared my story about this man with whom I feel in love. He was married, I was married. The relationship was quite.... well... it was something! He is now divorced, I am separated. But here is the twist:
He started seeing someone else before I was separated. He says he didn't think I would ever leave my husband. Well here we are...he is still seeing her but sends me mixed messages all the time. He pulls me in and then pushes me away. I don't know what to do. My friend Lola told me you would give me great advice.
Cortknee...what would you do??!

Alone and confused...Lucy

Dear Lucy,

Alas, the perils of the handsome charmer who's drawn to the unavailable woman. Kortknee, unfortunately, has heard this story before. Here's how it goes: Once upon a time, a handsome sweet-talking charmer set his tender little hooks in your psyche. You, being a decent, vulnerable, confused and lonely woman, thought actually he was being honest, and this was an amazing and special connection that you two shared. He, on the other hand, was enjoying having his ego stroked by your attention. Then, uh-oh, it looked like maybe you would indeed become available. Which filled you with great joy, and filled him with panic. So he lit out for new horizons, finding someone else (lemme guess, she's sort of bimbo-ish? Or at least, completely unassertive?)

But, he needs to keep you on the line a bit, in case Little Miss Bimbo grows up and actually expects anything real of him. I am so sorry to deliver this sad news, but he will NEVER show up in any kind of real way, but he will keep you on the line as long as you'll keep playing.

In this case, though, the good news is the bad news. This frees you up for all kinds of fun adventures without this tiny boy weighing you down. Remember this: if men's physical size matched their emotional size, lots of poor fellas would have fallen into the defroster vent on the windshield.

Write again,
Cort-nee

P.S. Some people think N'3lvra is bitter, but unfortunately, she's just honest.

P.P.S. How is it that you meet men at a women's retreat, anyway?

Dear Courrr,

I just wanted to tell you that you must be famous or something. Your fine advice about my icky neighbor in brief shorts was somehow heard by him. The last few days that I have passed him by, he has been appropriately dressed and had appropriate conversation. Do you think it was the bag over my head or the fact that everyone is reading Courrrrme these days that caused the change? Maybe it's just spring, but in my heart I know it's my famous counselor Courrtnee.

Love, Lola

Dear Lola,
Does it seem, well, wrong, that the man in the Size 12 Wedding Dress gets all that attention, while Kortnee fumbles around in relative obscurity? Sheesh. There is no god.

Love,
Courtney

P.S. Do you have eye-holes cut in your bag?

Dear court,

Please lose the gray color. It makes me feel way too old.

A young reader

Dear Young,
How's this?

Dear curtainy,

I have a friend, okay you can judge for yourself whether or not this is the truth, who has been married for a very long time. She has been unhappy for a very long time. A while ago, she went with a group of ladies for a women's retreat. There she met a fine fellow and promptly fell into quite a state of love/lust/call it what you will. There upon followed months of daily phone calls between the two. Now this friend of mine has been going to all sorts of counselors to try to extracate herself from her hubby, and he is having quite a hard time with it all. She is in the process of finally ending her marriage. BUT there is still the phone guy. He wants to get together with her, but she is scared to do this when she is married. I don't call it much of a marriage, but was wondering what you might think or advise in this dicey situation.

Looking forward to a reply,
Lola

Dear Lola,

Not to make this all about me or anything, but Courtney never meets men on a women's retreat. At least, that she knows of. Dammit.

Anyway, it would be less painful all around if she gets out of this so-called marriage before she hooks up with Phone Man. Cortnee thinks that we should all try pretty hard to avoid inflicting pain.

Kortney

P.S. I hate to predict this, but Phone Man is gonna turn out to be a big-time loser.

Dear Courtney,
I dont really have a problem, well actually i have lots of problems, just nothing i cant deal with on my own....but that is beside the point. I am writing in response to Wanda's message. I think her WWCD (What Would Courntey Do?) idea is fabulous! We could have tee-shirts, bracelets, watches, coffee mugs, sweatshirts and/or hand-knitted sweaters. What do you think Courtney? We could start a fan club! (and those anti-courtney terrorists won't be allowed to join, either)

Always,
Your new PR manager

Dear Manager,
Thanks for writing. My other reader probably thinks I wrote this letter myself, but I didn't.

Fondly,
Cort-Nee

P.S. Let me know when you want to have a fan club meeting. You could hold it in my big-ass truck, which seats two comfortably.

Dear Wanda,
Okay, I've been thinking about it. It's creepy, of course. I suggest that you wear thousands of layers of clothes when you go out, just to spite him. Put a sweater on the dog, too. Also, wear big hearing defenders so you don't have to listen to him. And a blindfold so you don't have to see him in his skimpy attire. Is it a seeing eye dog? Because that would be useful. Especially if you wear a bag over your head, the way Cortney usually does when she goes out.

Dearest courrr,

Now this is true, so don't start thinking it's just some stupid problem one of your fans made up so they could get the honor of possibly getting published. (You know all those poor suckers out there just hoping that they will be recognized by your highness and finally given a bit of advice attention) It must be hard to sort through all your mail to find all the really great problems to publish like mine. (Perhaps one of my problems is an overinflated ego or even a too loose usage of the parentheses, but I will bow to your greater wisdom for answers to those questions.)

Every day when I walk my pooch in the morning I see a higher up yuckity yuck (ie administrator) from my "company" who also is a neighbor. He is generally just finished with his morning jog and wearing some of those shorts that no man should ever wear (you know the kind that could double as bikini briefs). He usually says hi or another friendly early morning salutation. The other day I asked him a question about a house across the street and he answered and added, "How come I never see you walking your dog in your nightie like our other neighbor?" A bit dumbfounded, I shrugged and kept on walking. I realized he was talking about my next door neighbor who does in fact wear her sleevelss, cotton K-Mart house-coat type of nightie with nothing underneath to walk the dog. It's a bit of a startling sight in the morning and not really in a good way.

Anyways (this problem is quite extended isn't it) today he was sitting (in his own unbecoming shorts attire) on his porch with his wife. As I passed I politely said hello and he replied, "C'mon, where's the nightie?" His wife, who I like and who dresses well, gave him one of those looks and then looked at me kind of weird while I said something stupid like, "gotta get moving, I'm late for work".

Now Courtney, the question remains WWCD? (What would Courtney Do?) DO you think any of your readers would like bracelets or tee-shirts with that
acronym?

Well Clad in Waterloo,
Wanda

Dear Wanda,
Hey, the first letter at Courtney's new "G-Mail" account! How trendy is that?

Fondly,
Court

P.S. I am still thinking about your question. I'll get back to you on that.

Dear Courtney,
For the last week, we have had a robin fly into different windows around our house and shop. The robin starts window bashing at about 5:30 in the morning. I found out that the robin also visits our neighbor. Tonight, I noticed the robin started pecking on the top of my husband's truck. What can I do for the robin? What is the robin trying to tell us? Thanks for your help.

Signed,
Birdwatcher

Dear Birdwatcher,
Ah yes, the pesky robin. He's defending his territory against the reflection of himself. In a typical male way, he sees himself in the mirror and thinks, "Damn, doesn't he look studly! I'd better fight him or he will steal my girl-robin partner." Luckily for you, mating season will soon be over.

N'3lvra

Dearest kirtna,

Me thinks that someone writing you may want to kill you. Just wanted to warn you. Thought your readers might have some opinions on this. I dare you to print this.

Signed,
Someone who knows it when they see it

Dear Someone,
Jeez, thanks for the warning, but I don't believe it for a minute. Whom do you suspect? Do you think anti-Courtney terrorists are reading this column?

Could it be the person who defended Kurt? As Wally would say, do you think she's really sore about that? Or, I especially hope it's not Ellipse Boy.

N'3lvra

P.S. Did it seem, well, unseemly, when they kept talking about how they were tired of "swatting flies"?

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Dearest COurtneee,
I would have responded earlier to your reader who feels that I may be anti-warshington, but:

1. I was so startled by your new green screen that I ripped my quaint black frock on a jagged fence post.

2. The cyber cafe where I get all my west coast news was so filled with American Idol fans that I couldn't get on line.

Choose your poison. I have nothing against Kurt or Curt or whatever. In fact, I listen to Nirvana Uplugged (or whatever the acoustic CD is) sometimes on the old victrola in the parlor. I just don't believe that a major rocker who commits suicide was functioning on all 4 burners.

But now I must get back to the quilting. Those tourists are really picky.

--a former west coaster but then you knew that

My Dear Chastity (or Faith?),
Thanks for writing. I, for one, think it's very sweet that you plainfolk listen to Kurt on the Victrola. But my question is this: do we know anyone who functions on all 4 burners? C'mon, Frances Bean? Who thought of that?

Cort-nee (not the slutty druggy one.)

P.S. My expert on all matters Cobain, who happens to be related to me by birth, not marriage, tells me that the fetus, in utero, looked exactly like a bean. Brilliant.

P.P.S. What do you think of the new green screen?

P.P.P.S. The check is in the mail. Truly.

P.P.P.P.S. Are you ever going to come visit? Put down your thimble, saddle up the palamino, and come to Warshington, as you say.

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Dear N'3lvra
I am in love and I want to spend my whole day, life and existence like this, but some people don't like me... I think I shouldn't care and just love them too... what do you suggest?

Sincerely,

Pollyanna

Dear Pollyanna,
Does Courtney seem hopelessly bitter if she thinks this is a phony letter? Because she surely isn't hopeless.

N'lvra

P.S. My sister, who sometimes thinks she's a rabbi, and sometimes thinks she's a reincarnated Russian Princess (what did happen to Anastasia?), well anyway, she says, "choose life, send a gift". Which I think is generally good advice. You may start seeing it here more often. And in that spirit, blessings on you.

P.P.S. You don't say who you're in love with, or why. But you should probably mention it to him/her. Or at the very least, angle to spend more time with her/him. That's my advice, anyway. Who wouldn't want to spend time with you? I would, for sure.

Here's something that's pissing me off. Kortnee doesn't want another stinkin' phone book. No. Not one for the Greater Eastside, or one put out by Khortney's Very Small Town Where Everyone Knows Everyone's Fucking Business (which is a whole other matter), and not one for the Huge Metropolitan Area where no one has even heard of Courtnee, and not one put out by the realtors, or the Chamber of Commerce, or anyone. And especially not the stupid Bellevue phone book that's completely long distance from here. That's why we have the internet. I spend enough time looking for crap already, and now add these damn phone books that pour in day in, day out, getting in the way, and they're big and heavy AND ugly. When Courtney was young, you got exactly ONE phone book a year, AND there was a pretty picture on the cover. I could hire someone almost full time to just keep up on the freakin phone books around here. What the hell are they thinking? Is anyone for this? It seems like some hideous joke. But I, for one, don't think it's even the tiniest bit funny.

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Dear Courtney,
I've been reading your back letters and I really have to challenge the person who wondered what the fascination is with Kurt Cobain. She must not realize that Kurt had a very sad life growing up in Aberdeen. Evidently his mother had many affairs and locked him out of the house so he wouldn't know what she was up to and then he would spend his afternoons at the Aberdeen Library and read poetry and feel sad because he was a lonely boy. Also a very artistic boy. Rolling Stone voted him one of the top performers of the past 50 or 100 years (can't remember which). I think he was rated much higher than Jerry Garcia and almost as high as John Lennon.

I don't really have any problems to share with you, Courtney, but I felt that I had to defend our own Washington rock 'n roll hero (along with Jimi Hendrix and Bing Crosby). Thanks, Courtney, for listening.
Nirvana fan

Dear Fan,
You bring up some excellent points. And I'd like to add one of my own: it's such a pity that those lonely boys who read poetry don't live a little longer.

Truly,
N'3lvra

P.S. Please don't be too hard on that other letter-writer. Where she comes from, all of the famous people are Amish. Do you see what I mean?

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Dear Courtney,

Until recently, i have only been a viewer, and not a receiver, of your daily advice. I find you to be quite witty and furthermore, you have actually provided some good advice. That is why, in my time of need, i am coming to you with my problem. My mother and I fight constantly.

Ever since I have been old enough to really make choices for myself, we have been on shaky ground. My father chooses to stay out of it as much as possible, but usually sides with my mom because, well, he has to. (Or at least thats how i see it)

However, lately, my mother and I have been getting along really well. Sometimes we go on these stretches where we don't fight at all, and its all a really nice flowers-and-sunshine type of family, until we have a huge blowout and get really mad at each other. I really love my mom, and I hate the feeling of not wanting to see her, much less be in the same room as her, because i know were going to get in another argument about something unrelavent. I am afraid that sooner than later, my mother and I are going to say stuff we can't take back, and we are going to hurt each other more than we already do.

Courteny, how can we stay happy with each other, and not continue our pattern of exploding at each other time after time??

Sincerely,
A Hopeful Daughter

Dear Hopeful Daughter,

You don't mention what you fight about, so lemme guess: she makes comments about what you wear, how you spend your time, the way you breathe, and so on, that seem, from your point of view, um, well, at least snarky, if not incredibly controlling. But the pisser is, she sometimes has a good point, and you know that she truly does mean well, so you suck it up and go along with it, but every so often you can't stand it any more, and lash out. Is that it?

Here's the hilarious thing. Parents subscribe to an incredible myth, that they are "parenting", as if they have some control. In fact, they are on a giant roller coaster ride that began, um, 12 or 14 years ago (is that how old you are?). Their job is to look graceful as they lurch wildly along. All they can really do is lean a little bit to the left, or scream, or throw up, or, at moments, feel the exhilirating joy of the ride. Because truly, if we can just relax for a minute, there's nothing at all better in the whole world than this particular ride. (I could go on and on about this, even wax poetic, as they say, but I don't want to bore my other reader. . . ) But, as adults, we've decided that leaning to the left at just the right time, in just the right way, is Very Important; we call it parenting. We've come to believe that if we don't lean in just the right way at just the right time, our children may grow up to be a Detriment to Society.

My advice for you is this: play along with her a little bit, but let her know that ultimately, you're in charge. Toss your mother a bone once in a while, and don't take it so personally when she is hell-bent on leaning to the left. It's her freakin' job, and you're lucky she still feels like doing it.

Example:
Mom: Are you planning to wear that shirt to school? Surely you've got something that covers your navel.

The Old You: Jeez, Mom, leave me alone! All the girls are wearing shirts like this. You never let me do anything cool!

The New You: Mom, you know what is so cool about you? You just give me these gentle suggestions about what to wear, but you don't force me. I love that. Because some of my friends mom's try to dictate what their daughter's wear, and those girls change their clothes the instant they arrive at school. I'm so glad I don't have to sneak around. See ya later!

If that doesn't seem to work, you may need to bring out the bigger guns -- say something like, "I love how you don't judge me. I feel like I could come to you with anything, like if I needed condoms or something, I'd feel safe asking you."

Good luck, and write back. You're mother is pretty darn lucky to have you, that much is clear.

Courtney

Last night, N'3lvra went to Costco, which is a huge warehouse full of stuff where you can buy more of everything. Cortknee usually gets overstimulated and confused in Costco and avoids it. But, she borrowed a mini-van and drove a handful of teenagers, none of whom she is related to, to this very store so that they could purchase huge quantities of junk food.

This mysterious and uncharacteristic outing is not the point, however, which is this: while there, I perused the decorated cakes that were waiting to be retrieved. One particular cake was adorned with a race car, one of the standard choices. In addition to the cartoon race car and driver were the words, "Happy birthday to Anna, Cindy, Frank, Linda, Gary, Steve, Mark, Stacy, Jean, and Dr. Bluet. Love Nancy"

What's the story? How could all of those people have a birthday at the same party? Do all of them appreciate the race car theme? Who's Nancy? I've hardly been able to think of anything since I saw the cake. And another thing: the cake was supposed to be picked up at 10:00 today by someone named Sherry. What about Nancy? Is one of these names an alias? Should we tell Condaleeza? If any of you know anything about this, please get back to me right away.

__________________________________________________________________________________
Dear Courtney:

I recently repainted my condo and bought some new furniture. During this process, several coworkers felt the need to comment on my choices of paint colors and furniture selection...basically, they ridiculed me....they commented on my selections with a critical, condescending eye. I could almost hear their inner voices, "You? Pick appropriate colors and furniture? Come on, I'm sure you barely have enough social etiquette to put your underwear on in the morning, let alone put it on the right way."

Now, I would be the first to admit that there have been times my underwear has been left behind, and that on occasion I have sported my underwear backwards; however, this was only because I could not find it, or in the case of wearing my underwear backwards, I was readying myself for the possibility that I could wake up one morning to find my butt in front and front where my butt would be. Can you imagine? Facing someone and finding their butt, along with their face, staring you straight in the eyes. Can you imagine how awkward dancing would be?....but I am digressing.

Getting back to my point, I recently put my condo up for sale; due to the comments from my coworkers, I was feeling a little insecure about how my place looks. The amazing thing is that each day, I get calls from realtors just stating how much they love my place- the paint colors, furniture, and layout of my rooms. If fact, I'm supposed to get three offers today from potential buyers, and it's only been on the market for two days...the realtors attribute this largely to my decorating abilities.

My question is, don't you think that my coworkers, particularly one who writes an advice column, should get down on their/her knees and apologize to me for the quick and wrongful evaluations of my decorating abilities (maybe each morning for about a week)? Shouldn't they admit that I was right and that they were wrong?

Sincerely,

Fengshui

Dear Insomnia Boy,

Wow, you get to work with an advice columnist? How did you get to be so lucky? People all over the world would love that opportunity. You should definitely do something very very nice for her.

But meanwhile, I have a few other questions: Is this the decorating that involved painting everything in the condo gun-metal gray during the winter in Seattle? And is this the same advice columnist who accompanied you to more than one store to help select the coffee table, which as I understand, is sort of the centerpiece of the decorating extravaganza? I thought so.

In answer to your question, Yes, I definitely think you should get down on your knees each day and thank that advice columnist for all that she does. (Was that your question? I seem to have forgotten, I was distracted by your comments regarding body parts appearing where they don't belong. Please don't ask for advice on that.)

Yours,
Cort-nee

P.S. Thanks for playing that game with me. It was fun, even though those boring people chose to talk about golf rather than play my fun game. Who invited them, anyway?

__________________________________________________________________________________
Dear Courtney,
Why doesn't this stupid column ever change? And why don't you ever call me? I have something I want to talk to you about.

Signed,
Bored and Lonely

Dear Bored,
Umm, good point on the column never changing. I'll see what I can do.
N'3lvra

P.S. WAIT! There's only so much I can do. It takes people writing in with problems too, ya know, and jeez, I'm pretty sure that some of my readers have big problems.

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deer kerrtnae234;9fu089w4r57,

What is up with America's fascination with Curt Cobain's suicide? I'm sorry to put it out there, but can you really compare it to when someone offed John Lennon or poor Jerry Garcia died from too many who knows what? Am I just being anti-Seattle or maybe I'm missing something?

Certainly not from the other COurtney

Dear Certainly Not,

Does it seem like you try to change the subject every time we mention the murder? Where were you that night, if I may ask? And doesn't it seem strange that you never sign your real name?

The Real Courtney

And Courtney has another question for you. Is it Halle Barre, that popup with the x through her face? I suppose it's Angelina, but I don't even know who she is. How can I give advice when I don't know this stuff? Sheesh. Cortknee is feeling the tiniest bit of professional insecurity.

I also forgot to mention that I won the lottery on Saturday. $3. That's what I won. And the clerk says, "how do you want that?" I'm thinking, um, lump sum? Er, no, 20 year payout, please.

I used the money to buy some Tillamook extra sharp cheddar cheese, which was $11.99, because N'3lvra really knows how to live it up. The other wimpy medium cheddar cheese was on sale for $4.99. The clerk says, "did you mean to get the other kind?" For crissakes, I just won the freakin' lottery, and she gives me a hard time about springing for some Really Good Cheese.

In case you were wondering? None of those other Courtneys ever replied. Not even the tiniest response. Personally, I hate it when people don't write back.

And, I'm not so sure that it was suicide. It just doesn't add up. No fingerprints on the gun?

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Hello Courtney,
It's possible your Side of Ham Arm Guitarist has a medical condition called Lymphodema. This is a common phenomenon, especially for women who have had mastectomies, after lymph nodes have been removed from the axillary region. Your guitarist may have had some kind of surgery in the past which
unfortunately resulted in Lymphodema. I have seen some pretty huge arms.

On the other hand, he may be a throw back from someone's caveman relatives and thinks his huge arm is a turn-on.

From,
Medically Speaking


Dear Medically Speaking,

Thanks for the medical perspective. I was thinking the diagnosis was obesity, but then again, I'm not a real doctor.

N'3lvra

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Last night, Courtney went to hear some live music, some of it quite excellent. One thing I was struck by is that one of the men on guitar had an arm that was so large and undifferentiated (no discernable narrowing at the elbow or wrist); hence, it looked rather like a side of beef. Picture that side of beef strumming along . . . One of my companions thought that if I mentioned it here, someone in a distant land might come upon this description and realize I am referring to a long lost family member. “Ah, the family ham!” is what she thought their exclamation might be. So, I put this out here on the off chance that something good will come of it. Because Cort-Nee is all about that.

Well, it’s almost daylight savings time again. This is when, in unison, we get up an hour earlier each day, and pretend that it actually stays light later. Is it unbelievable that we can pull this off? I mean, 3 average people with A Plan can barely show up at the same restaurant at the same time.

Cortnee, in case you were wondering, is all for daylight savings time. There are some other big things I’d like us all to pretend about, but unfortunately, I don’t have time to elaborate. I’m in the middle of recommending a plan to shorten the winter days by making the daytime hours 45 minutes long, and the night-time hours 75 minutes long. (Shorter work day, more sleep.) Conda-Leezza Rice is concerned about my plan, but I think she'll come around.

(Click on the link already!)