here's that bad advice you were hoping for


71 notes

Anonymous asked: Atire advice for a best friends sisters funeral tmrw. Don't wanna look like I'm going to a party. I'm16 btw. Would black skinny jeans be okay? Everything Black? Please help. From, Funeral First Timer in Michigan .

Readers won’t stop sending the Bad Advisor their real-ass questions to answer, so the Bad Advisor is periodically going to try her hand at answering them.


The Bad Advisor reckons that black skinny jeans will be just fine. Probably this is a thing a lot of 16-year-olds would wear or be expected to wear to a funeral, and as long as you’re safely in the ‘shades of black/dark grey/navy blue/dark brown’ color palette no one will probably notice what you’re wearing anyway because it’s a funeral. (The Bad Advisor says “probably” because there’s always the potential for someone there to take it upon themselves to police what other people wear to a funeral, and maybe we will give that person leeway because of their grief even though they might be being a big assbag about it.)

That said: the Bad Advisor suggests making an effort to dress up said skinny jeans. Go with boots or oxfords instead of sneakers. Even if it’s hot as a scrote outside, wear a blazer or cardigan during/around the service. Don’t put a bunch of shit on your head (fedora / veiled hat / elaborate fascinator) because you want it to be playtime vintage retro funeral (you probably are smarter than to do this because you’re asking in the first place, but for the folks who need it, i.e. the Bad Advisor at age 16 would have needed this). If you wear jewelry or makeup of any kind … wear less of it than you might usually.

The Bad Advisor extends her condolences to you, your friend, and their family.

Oh, and carry a fuckload of kleenex, seriously, just load your shit up with kleenex. First-time funerals can be sort of scary, and being the person with a fuckload of kleenex is a thing you can do. 

Filed under advice good advice interlude funeral attire of course the first fashion advice question the bad advisor gets is about a funeral friends grief hard things to do at any age but especially 16

160 notes

Help, This Asshole Won’t Fix My Children Dinner!

Slate, Dear Prudence, 4 August 2014:

Q. Kids Birthday Parties: A family member is hosting a birthday party for her child. The invitation specifically states only cake and ice cream will be served at the party, which is being held at 4 p.m. Is it wrong that I am incredibly irritated by this? She has made comments in the past about how it’s “too much work” to cook for everyone. The way I see it, because she is lazy, I am expected to feed my kids cake and ice cream for dinner because she can’t be bothered to provide anything more. Am I off here? It just seems rude.

Children’s birthday parties are often construed as convivial, whimsical celebrations of childhood, much to the detriment of those who have worked hard to be able to walk into someone else’s house and demand they be provided with a well-balanced meal.

Cake and ice cream at 4 p.m.—what’s next, 12 year-olds watching PG-13 movies!? Staying up to watch the musical guest on Letterman!? Pure fucking chaos, that’s what.

The fabric of American society is held together with the threads of other people managing your children’s diets, and this irresponsible parent is single-handedly unweaving everything that is good and wholesome on this earth. You’re supposed to figure out how to get your kids a sensible dinner before or after they’ve been exposed to the abjection of cake and ice cream in the late afternoon? No parent signs up for that kind of insurmountable challenge, and it’s not only lazy but downright cruel for this other person to force you to mitigate the potential life-altering consequences of their malevolence. 

Filed under advice bad advice dear prudence parenting birthday parties children's birthday parties cake ice cream the end of civilization as we know it

259 notes

So I Pretend To Be Disabled For My Own Personal Convenience, What’s The Big Deal?

Slate, Dear Prudence, 8/13/2014:

Dear Prudence, I tend to travel solo and without much more than a rolling carrying bag and a purse. I’ve often found that when I board when my row is called, there’s not enough space in the overhead compartments for my bag. My past few flights, I’ve boarded earlier with the folks who “require extra time” to board, and that gives me time to stow my bags and get comfortable. Recently, when I traveled with my husband and did this, it mortified him. He said I was taking advantage of a situation intended for parents with children and the disabled. My stance is that I am bothering no one by doing this, and no flight attendants have ever said anything to me about it. Am I being an inconsiderate traveler? Signed, Early Bird

Dear Early Bird,

Rules were not made to be broken, they were simply made to apply to every other human being on planet earth besides you. Unique among the good lord’s wond’rous creations, you in particular deserve nice things that other people just have to do without. Tough break for everyone who is not you, but who are you to stop doing whatever the fuck you want to do, whenever the fuck you want to do it?

Who knows what unfathomable terrors might befall humanity if you had to—perish the thought—check your rolly-bag instead of stowing it in the overhead compartment? What heinous, topsy-turvy machinations might ensue if you found yourself having to wait five, ten, even FIFTEEN seconds while the person in 16B adjusts their tray table in order to accommodate your magnificent person?

After all, you surely could not ever, under any circumstances, be a hindrance to any other early boarders with their piddly-ass actual need for assistance. Disabled folks and parents with small children already enjoy too many social benefits in America today, worshipped as they are every time they leave their homes and given all the publicly funded medical assistance, work and family leave they could ever use—not to mention the assloads of political capital they enjoy in their gross overrepresentation in elected public office.  

You’re just taking a little piece of the pie back for the average Joe. Thanks for taking a stand! Because you literally can.

Filed under advice bad advice dear prudence disability parents with kids parenting flying airline travel airplanes certified assholes special snowflakes

145 notes

Anonymous asked: So do have any solutions to problems other than 'drop them and run away', or is that all you got?

112 notes

reader-submitted Q

Q: Am I being clingy? I’m ‘friends’ with this guy who lives in another state and is a bit older that I am. If we lived closer, I think we would be dating. The only reason I’m doubting it is because of how he’s been acting lately. I feel like he doesn’t really care about me, the way I care about him. I really like him and I think he’s great but he’s been acting kinda selfish. He would rather be lazy all day doing nothing instead of texting me. He’s making me feel like I’m clingy, saying things such as he’s not used to people wanting him to text them daily. Which is bs because we always used to talk everyday but lately he’s being weird. I know he has had relations with some other girl recently (I’m not sure if it’s official). I used to really like him but I’m not do sure anymore. I just want to end it but when I tried to do that before, he insisted on being ‘friends’. I just want to stop depending on him texting me to make my day.

Readers won’t stop sending the Bad Advisor their real-ass questions to answer, so the Bad Advisor is periodically going to try her hand at answering them.


Delete this dude’s number, block it, and delete/block him on literally every other means by which he has to contact you, then never talk to this dude ever again and if he tries to contact you some other magical way just straight up ignore it, because this kind of fuckery is pointless and boring.

Go learn to paint or some shit.

(BTW y’all with reader questions - do it through the ask feature, not the submit feature. Bad Advisor likes it better that way.)

Filed under good advice interlude advice why the fuck are y'all dicking around with people like this go learn to paint or some shit literally anything is more fun than trying to mind-read someone you don't even like all that much BREAKING NEWS people who care about you will make you feel good and excited and proud of yourself instead of miserable and weird submission

75 notes

Anonymous asked: Out of curiosity, how old is the Bad Advisor?

The Bad Advisor is, was, and always will be.

just kidding she’s 30

245 notes

Anonymous asked: My school starts in a week and a half, and this is the third school I've been to due to excessive bullying and harassment. It's really stopped me from being social and confident, and I don't know how to prepare myself to go in confident for my sophomore year. Were/are you confident in school? Do you have any tips on how to make myself seem like someone with confidence? I'm scared.

Readers won’t stop sending the Bad Advisor their real-ass questions to answer, so the Bad Advisor is periodically going to try her hand at answering them.


The Bad Advisor was bullied in dance class as a kid, and it was horrible. For years, dance class was a wonderful haven of fun jumps and twirls, until one day … it just wasn’t. Suddenly the Bad Advisor didn’t have the right leotards, and her favorite dancing—tap dancing—became way less “cool” than jazz dancing. Suddenly the Bad Advisor stopped getting invited to dance class sleepovers. Three times a week, the Bad Advisor had to go hang out in a room full of mirrors with a bunch of assholes who hid her shoes, poked her glasses and made fun of the Beatles pins on her bag.

But then, during a month-long break between competition seasons, the Bad Advisor resolved to change all of this. The Bad Advisor convinced her parents to let her get contact lenses and wear makeup. She started listening to “cool” music like All 4 One and Real McCoy. She bought only name-brand leotards and got her mom to buy her a pair of Limited Too jeans. The Bad Advisor got a perm and shaved her legs!!!!!!!! The Bad Advisor could not wait to go back to dance class and show those assholes JUST HOW COOL AND CONFIDENT AND JUST LIKE THEM SHE REALLY WAS!1!!111!!!

Can you even imagine how excited and nervous Bad Advisor was for the first day back to dance class!?!? SHE WOULD SHOW THEM ALL!!! THE SLEEPOVER INVITATIONS WOULD LITERALLY POUR IN!!!!!

Can you even guess what happened next? The Bad Advisor bets you can. As soon as the Bad Advisor’s buttbag bully classmates saw her new Limited Too jeans, and heard her talking about that hot new Real McCoy song, and caught sight of her sparkly pink lip gloss, the Bad Advisor’s buttbag bully classmates decided that Limited Too was for babies, Real McCoy was like soooooo two months ago and lip gloss was not nearly as cool as lipstick. There were no sleepover invitations forthcoming. Bad Advisor’s buttbag bully classmates just found new shit to make fun of Bad Advisor for.

But then another thing happened: a new girl joined the dance class, and she liked the Beatles and reading paranormal YA and pretending to understand the political commentary in Rolling Stone. With her new friend, the Bad Advisor gave herself permission to like all the stuff that she really liked, and permission to surround herself with people who really liked her and really liked stuff she liked with her. Instead of worrying about being the wrong person for other people who would forever find new reasons to be dissatisfied with her, the Bad Advisor learned to try to be the right person for herself and the people she really respected. 

The Bad Advisor eventually quit dance class just before her freshman year of high school—the bullying never totally stopped, but once the bullies perceived that the Bad Advisor was not as invested in making them happy as they were in making the Bad Advisor miserable, it did subside somewhat.

But Bad Advisor went into that year of high school knowing some things about herself, much of which came out of making that new friend with shared interests who she could learn and laugh with: what kind of music she liked, what kind of jokes she liked, what kind of Telnet chat rooms she liked (did Bad Advisor mention this was BACK IN THE DAY?), and what kinds of things she was interested in learning about and trying, and what kinds of people she might like to learn and try things with. That allowed Bad Advisor to find groups at school she really loved (theater, newspaper), and to recognize bad bunches of apples that were going to make her sad (why was media club so weirdly full of jerks? YMMV!). It also helped her to not be afraid of all new people. All new people are not bullies.

But look, school might always be a place where people are asshole bullies to you, Letter Writer. The Bad Advisor cannot promise you a magical way to be that will keep the bullies at bay. However, the Bad Advisor can tell you that when you get to talk about and experience the things you love with friends and family members who care about you, the specter of bullying looms less large. The Bad Advisor recommends feeling out some potential teachers/activity sponsors who you can trust to confide in for a few minutes at lunch or after school—because you need an adult ally if shit really gets unmanageable, specifically an adult ally who will believe you and not tell you to "just ignore it and they’ll go away" because that is not a sustainable option—and get yourself invested in some extracurriculars where you can feel out some potential allies. 

Don’t worry about walking into school on the first day with your COOL CONFIDENT PRETEND MASK on. Pay attention to your teachers, get to classes on time, and listen to and watch the folks around you. You don’t need to make 10 friends the first day, or even the first semester, or ever. Think about things you like and are interested in: programming? engineering? film noir? playing music? sewing? the rise and fall of communism in Eastern Europe? Look and listen for people who share those interests, and ask them about them if you get a chance. Smile at people when you talk with them, and look them in the eye every once in a while. Ask them questions you are genuinely interested in knowing the answers to. Shower regularly and brush your teeth.

It’s not about making yourself “seem like someone with confidence,” it’s about trusting yourself and caring for yourself and giving yourself permission to do the things you want and love to do. That, LW, will read as “confidence” to anyone who meets you.

And go watch all of My So-Called Life and Freaks & Geeks.

Filed under high school good advice interlude bullies bullying my so-called life freaks and geeks the exhausting and never ending dance that is trying to make other people happy at your own expense

483 notes

My Boner: Great Compliment, OR THE GREATEST COMPLIMENT?

Carolyn Hax, 9 August 2014:

Dear Carolyn: Is it ever permissible to comment on how nice a woman’s breasts look, especially when about three-quarters of them are exposed with low-cut dresses or bikini-type tops? (Single gals only.) - D.

Dear D.,

Because women only ever wear certain styles of clothing in public for the benefit of men, and never because it’s fucking hot outside, trendy or comfortable, literally the only thing to do in these situations is to inform women that you approve of their funnity funbags, put here on planet earth by a God whose first priority, forever, is to make sure your erection is being tended to.

However, as you rightly surmise, it would be inappropriate to compliment the jugs of women who are not single, since you wouldn’t want to offend the men to whom those glorious knockers rightly belong. Women are only real humans when they are considered in relation to the men in their lives, because heterosexual partnership is what makes women people. Without it, they are simply lost, wandering bazookas on spines. 

Go forth and tell strangers, friends and acquaintances how sweet their mammers are, and may your boner receive what it deserves in return.

Filed under tits boobs breasts breastases advice bad advice carolyn hax patriarchy fedoras entitlement male entitlement heteronormativity boners

187 notes

Help, A Stranger Failed To Praise My Child For Existing!

Dear Abby, 8 August 2014:

DEAR ABBY: My husband and I and our toddler son were recently out to dinner. A woman walked past our table to the family next to us and gushed about how “beautiful” the couple’s daughter was. Their child was the same age as our son, who is just as well-behaved. I found it hurtful that a stranger would compliment one child and ignore the family seated at the next table. My husband disagrees. Am I wrong to be offended? Do you think this was rude? — FURIOUS IN FLORIDA

Dear Furious,

Your son was not being disruptive in public, which means total strangers should shower him with praise. Otherwise, how will he ever learn that other people should reward him when he doesn’t annoy or hurt them? This stranger missed a valuable part of the social contract: the obligation that random people at restaurants have to make sure your son feels good about himself.

You didn’t have a kid just so people could ignore him in public while they do whatever shit they need to do before I Wanna Marry Harry comes on. You had a kid so that people could tell you how fucking great you are at life. The main benefit of raising children is how other people must take every opportunity to reinforce your own overblown sense of self-importance.

Fundamentally, the reason this stranger’s cruel and deliberate snub hurt you so badly is this: life is fair. Everyone always gets what they want and deserve, and good things are doled out equally to everybody on planet earth. But for one bizarre and troubling moment, this vicious and sadistic woman ripped a hole in the fabric of reality that may never be mended.

From now on, your son will be forced to go through life with the terrible memory of that time a total rando gave another person a compliment in front of him, a horrible fate that his decent behavior in public should have forever insulated him from.

Filed under children babies parenting advice dear abby bad advice nobody likes you