Month: September 2025

Cat Poo Pom

The Luv Doc

Who is the animal in this scenario?

June 22, 2012

LuvDoc,
Got married recently and with the wife came a cute Pomeranian dog and a neurotic declawed cat, both indoor pets. At issue is that the pom loves to eat cat poo and is constantly digging out those Baby Ruths from the cat box whenever we’re not around. We live in a pretty small house and we don’t have space to separate the two pets. How do I curb this dog’s insatiable appetite for his furry friend’s No. 2?
Appreciate ya,
Ernesto

So let me get this straight, Ernesto: You are against your new wife’s Pomeranian’s attempt to keep your house free of cat shit? Who is the animal in this scenario Ernesto? This is, of course, assuming the Pom doesn’t poo in the kitty litter himself. Then it would pretty much be a zero sum game. However, if the Pom is dropping his deuces in the neighbor’s sand box – or better yet, if he has for some bizarre reason been toilet trained like a genius Tonight Show circus dog, then what you have is a nonproblem. Unless.

Unless your new bride likes to give the Pomeranian doggie kisses. Then you have a real coprophagial complaint. Every time you engage in tonsil hockey with your betrothed you’re essentially swapping cat-shit spit, at least by proxy. I’m just going to say this on behalf of everyone reading this: Ew. It’s one thing for her to overdo the garlic or still have Copenhagen grains in her teeth when you’re kissing, but the knowledge that your wife’s saliva is a conduit for cat poo is nearly impossible to overcome. You can’t Altoids that away. You need at least a toothbrush, a Waterpik, a stomach pump, a pressure washer with a whirligig attachment, and a couple of shots of Everclear to make that mouth right again.

I know I don’t even need to say this, but cat shit is disgusting – not to dogs, however. Dogs will eat anything. They’re scavengers. They will literally eat the ass out of a dead elephant. Don’t Google that. Point is, you need to set some boundaries. If it were me, I would find another location for the cat litter box – maybe Pomerania or the Bikini Atoll – something exotic to spice things up. However, it’s my guess as the cat is yours. Therefore, you might have to spice things up differently. Try sprinkling a healthy portion of cayenne pepper on the “Baby Ruths” before you leave the house. Your Pomeranian, whose lineage began in Northern Poland where the indigenous cuisine consists mainly of boiled fish, beets and potatoes, is unlikely to take a liking to spicy poo. If he does, at least your wife won’t like giving him doggie kisses … or at least you’ll know for sure if she does.

Shave Everything

The Luv Doc

You’re more than just a collection of productive hair follicles.

June 15, 2012

Luvdoc,
Summer is almost here and I am thinking of shaving off my beard. My girlfriend has never seen me without it and I’m worried she might freak out and break up with me if I shave. Should I go gradual and ease her into my hairless face or go radical and shave everything?
– Juan

Juan … shave everything. Top to bottom, kibbles to bits. I don’t know you but I have a feeling you’re more than just a collection of productive hair follicles. You probably have hopes and dreams. You probably have ambitions that extend beyond being a lumberjack, a hermit, or the guitar player for ZZ Top. Wait a minute, scratch that last one. Billy G. rocks his beard so women won’t throw panties at his face everywhere he goes. Why? He has magic fingers, duh.

Face panties might sound awesome, but a quick survey of the hygiene habits of the average female will remind you that being incessantly pelted with doffed undies isn’t nearly as nice as it sounds – certainly not from ZZ Top’s demographic. The beard makes total sense now, doesn’t it? For all we know, Billy looks like Brad Pitt under that varmint, but I digress.

Here’s the thing: Radical change almost always meets resistance. That’s why I am going to suggest a gradual approach. Yes, it’s slower and fraught with infinitely more anxiety and drama, but you don’t want to freak out your girlfriend, do you? That’s why you should start by shaving your crotch. That will totally throw her off balance. When she sees you bald as a baby down there she’ll know you mean business … about something. Little tip: You may be tempted to get waxed – after all, who wouldn’t want to experience the exquisite pleasure of having their pubes ripped out all at once – but don’t do it. You don’t want your girlfriend to have to erase the mental image of somebody else – male or female – touching your junk, even if it’s just to get a better grip on the wax tape. Plus, shaving yourself shows that you have confidence in your abilities with a razor. If you do a good job on your scroat hair, there’s no reason to think you can’t handle your throat hair as well.

One caveat: Shaving your pubes – however bang-up a job you do – might totally freak her out. She might, in fact, break up with you because she thinks you’re a sexual deviant, or worse, that shaving body hair is unnatural. That’s ridiculous. Not taking a dump in your front yard is unnatural, not randomly humping ovulating females is unnatural … so is brushing your teeth and washing your hair, but guess what? We’ve evolved. The Schick Hydro has five blades, an ergonomic design, and lubrication. How is she going to argue against that? How is she going to argue against evolution? And if she does, why are you dating her?

Not Getting Used

The Luv Doc

Sex lasts maybe 15 minutes, but crazy lasts all fucking day … and night

June 8, 2012

Dear Luv Doc,
Whenever my ex was not in jail, hospital or rehab, she lived with me the past two years. Our last three months of cohabitation came with my insistence that she contribute to the household financially and with housework. I had never insisted on this before as strongly as I did this time. She’d always been helpful in the past but this time, the final three months were different. She promised each month to come through in some way but failed each month to even make an effort to fulfill my request. It seems as though she really thought having sex with me was sufficient. Could a woman seriously believe that? I finally told her she’d have to move out, and after two weeks she did. She directly moved in with another man and that ended our relationship without any discussion. She left clothing here at my place and continues to delay picking it up week after week. 1) How long should I wait before tossing her clothes to the trash? 2) How can I prevent this in the future? 3) What psychological or behavioral characteristics should I look for in a woman before she moves in? I don’t want this experience again.
Naively yours, Tony
PS: I would love to see this printed in the Chronicle because your answers will help a lot of other men not get used.

Dude. Seriously. Dude. Jail? Hospital? Rehab? Really the only thing missing here is weeping meth scabs and a persistently itchy crotch. Did her head occasionally spin around 360 degrees and spew green vomit? Did it feel like you answered your own questions when you put this in writing? OK, enough with the incredulity. I’ll roll up my sleeves and get to the task at hand.

Question one: Call her and tell her to pick up her clothes by a specific date and time or you will take them to Goodwill where she can purchase them back at a slight markup.

Question two: Fucking somebody isn’t a good reason to have them move in with you. Do the math. Sex lasts maybe 15 minutes, but crazy lasts all fucking day … and night. You shouldn’t let somebody move in with you until they have proven they have skills off the mattress … or table … or chair … or bearskin rug … or Vietnamese spin fuck harness. You get my meaning?

Question three: Refer to answer two. I’m going to go out on a limb here and say that jail, hospital, and rehab are red flags. The same could be said for meth scabs and crotch scratching. Really, I could spend a few thousand words on this question alone, but you might have your own list that doesn’t include dirty fingernails, rotten teeth, and eyes that never blink. Point is, sex or no sex, you should expect/demand any potential cohabitant to behave like a respectful, responsible human being. If you don’t know what that is, I can’t help you.

The Friend of Your Friend’s Enemy

The Luv Doc

If you’re the friend of your friend’s enemy, doesn’t that make you the enemy of your friend?

June 1, 2012

Luv Doc,
One of my oldest friends (from grade school) recently broke up with his girlfriend. She and I have become really good friends in the last few years and she keeps calling me to hang out/go shopping, etc. I would like to hang out with her too, but I don’t want to take sides. Any suggestions?
– Marie

Marie, that is some seriously twisted shit. It sounds like their split was not amicable, and if I’m not mistaken, you’re insinuating that this girl is trying to drive a wedge between you and one of your oldest friends just to get back at him. What a bitch! There’s really no solution here other than to tell her you’re onto her nefarious scheme. She will probably deny it, but just consider that further evidence of her underhandedness. Back in Puritan times this woman would probably be accused of being a witch – sort of an old timey version of “bitch”…back before such things were bedazzled on the back of pink terrycloth short shorts.

Witches, like bitches in bedazzled short shorts, were easy to identify. All you had to do with a witch was bind her hands and feet and throw her in some water. If she drowned, she was innocent. If she floated, she was stoned to death or burned at the stake. Not much incentive to hold her breath, eh? The thing with accusing someone of being a witch was that you really couldn’t go wrong. Either you were sending her to eternal heavenly bliss or condemning her to eternal damnation and hell fire, either of which she clearly deserved.

These days it’s a bit more difficult to get a woman stoned to death based on a mere accusation (well, unless you’re a woman in Pakistan). Since the Middle Ages, justice systems in the Western world have been leaning more and more towards physical evidence, scientific method, and causality rather than public consensus or individual caprice. By and large, most people consider this to be good thing, but it doesn’t help your situation.

It’s not easy to prove someone has malicious intent when there is a complete absence of empirical evidence. Sometimes you just have to go with your gut. Besides, how could the enemy of your friend not be your enemy too? Or conversely, if you’re the friend of your friend’s enemy, doesn’t that make you the enemy of your friend? You certainly don’t want to be that. Then again, sometimes guts are dead wrong, so maybe you should talk to your old friend and explain that their situation doesn’t have anything to do with you, nor should it. Surely, being one of your oldest friends, he will understand.

Abortion is a Sticky Wicket

The Luv Doc

Nature doesn’t provide any clear cues for difficult moral questions.

May 25, 1012

Luvdoc,
My boyfriend’s sister is a fundamentalist pro-life nutjob and I can’t stand to be around her. She always drags me into an argument and then I end up fighting with my boyfriend. What’s the best way to tell him I don’t want to be around her?
– Uptohere

Damn, abortion is a sticky wicket to be sure, so it’s best to just yank that bastard out of the ground entirely. Your BF’s S wants you to believe what she believes. That way she’ll be convinced her belief is right. You, on the other hand, probably think she is a retard who should have been aborted herself. Here’s the truth: You’re both right…or wrong. She might think that abortion is an abomination in the eyes of God – the same God who ironically aborted his only son 33 years after his last trimester (maybe if he had seen the ultrasound?) or she might just personally feel that killing babies is wrong, even in utero – especially the way it’s depicted on those baby-in-a-blender anti-abortion picket posters. Hard to argue against that, eh? Or, she might even be one of those every-sperm-is-sacred Catholics who portray masturbation and birth control as mini-holocausts.

Regardless, she believes it strongly – just as strongly as you might believe that a woman has the right to control her own body – maybe even up to the point that if she wants to strangle her newly born infant to death shortly after childbirth, it’s OK as long as the umbilical cord hasn’t been cut. Unfortunately nature doesn’t provide any clear cues for difficult moral questions. Infanticide is not unknown in the Animal Kingdom…barbaric violence is fairly commonplace – as is nudity, gender discrimination, and bestiality (though really, being beasts, our furry friends should get a pass on this one). Anyone who has seen a house cat engaged in a shameless display of prolonged analingus in front of the TV set knows that nature is, if anything, completely apathetic to our attempts to impose a moral framework on it.

Nonetheless, being somewhat sentient beings we have taken it upon ourselves to do exactly that, and by and large, we’ve done a decent job, but not without an impressive list of casualties. Morality continues to evolve, as should you. That means allowing for the possibility that you’re not absolutely right. Here’s the deal: Abortion will always be a hotly contested issue as long as unwanted pregnancies are an issue. Maybe you can both agree that the best way to end unwanted pregnancies is to do it before they get started. At least then you can focus on the how rather than the why. As for your boyfriend, if you don’t want to be around his sister, break up with him.

That Extra Syllable is a Huuuge Time-Waster

The Luv Doc

The patient gentility of the anagram ASAP

May 18, 2012


Luv Doc, Sir,
Why do Americans always say “ASAP” when they really mean “RFN?”
– Marcus

Because, kind sir, Americans aren’t filthy-mouthed motherfuckers like you Europeans. We’re politer than shit, in fact, which is why we choose to use an anagram that means “as soon as possible.” ASAP recognizes that people oftentimes have other things on their plate that might delay your request. For instance, if you’re calling 911 to report that you’ve been stabbed and are bleeding to death, saying “send an ambulance ASAP” implies that you’re OK with the 911 operator finishing up her Facebook post about bedazzled cat sweaters before she rings up dispatch.

If instead you use the term “RFN,” she will be angered at your inflated sense of self-importance and your egregious use of anagrammed profanity. She might not even send an ambulance at all. Hey, it’s not all about you. Other people have lives, too – although maybe not as short as yours. If you really want her to send an ambulance, you may instead want to say, “Send an ambulance, stat.” That lets her know you know what the fuck is going on. For all she knows, you might be the surgeon in charge of her upcoming hip replacement. In other words, you have some leverage. Stat means “right fucking now,” and even though it sounds like an anagram (which, of course, implies that you don’t even have time to spit the words out … CriManSqua?), it’s really an abbreviation of the Latin word “statim.”

As you can imagine, even in the clumsy, arcane language of the one true church, that extra syllable is a huuuge time-waster. In fact, I can’t even believe I typed it out (there’s .03 seconds of my life I’ll never get back). Being named Marcus, you clearly grew up in a Latin-speaking household and should be comfortable with the term. In fact, your name is how I deduced that you are European, possibly from the Vatican City itself, where Latin is still the mother (or is it father?) tongue.

Whatever; the point is that when you say “stat,” you have the force of nearly 2000 years of Christian authority and oppression behind you, and people tend to shake a leg if only because of some innate, evolutionary fear of being drawn and quartered by a bunch of dudes wearing crosses. My suggestion is that if you’re frustrated with the patient gentility of the anagram ASAP, you should drop that crass Eurotrash RFN right fucking now and adopt the urgency word of your native tongue, stat. Capisce? It’s un-American of course, but you should be true to yourself. After all, in the words of Seneca: Veritas odit moras.

Italian Boyfriends and Perky, Bleach-Blonde Updos

The Luv Doc

In the real world of the 99-percenter, however, moral questions are rarely black-and-white

May 11, 2012

Dear Luv Doc, My best friend is getting married next fall to a guy I really hate. She wants me to be the maid of honor and all she ever talks about is her wedding. Should I be honest with her about my feelings or just go along?
– Molly

This one’s easy, Molly, which leads me to believe you may be simple – or worse yet, some sort of drama queen/attention whore – so you’re lucky your friend is even asking you to be her MOH at all. Regardless, your easy answer comes in the form of a question: Where is the wedding? Is it an all-paid destination extravaganza on the beach at Waikiki, or is it a backyard affair being catered out of a grill that was made by cutting a 50-gallon drum in half with a welding torch? I think you have your answer.

Lookit: Do you think Ivana Trump’s MOH didn’t deal with a similar moral quandary? Of course she did, but sometimes you have to look at the bigger picture. Twenty million in alimony buys a lot of hot, young, Italian boyfriends and perky, bleach-blonde updos. In the real world of the 99-percenter, however, moral questions are rarely so black-and-white. You might be looking at the nearly indistinguishable difference between a completely sober mints-and-punch reception in the multipurpose room in the back of the Methodist Church and a barefoot, neo-hippie Mayfield Park lovefest complete with a face-painted, dreadlocked flower girl and awkwardly mushy “write-your-own” wedding vows.

Helpful tip: You might want to incorporate a parasol into your tie-dyed bridesmaid ensemble because sometimes when the doves get released, the doves release something themselves. Just saying. You’ll also have to resist the urge to tell those goddamn peacocks to STFU because unlike a peacock, you’re probably too well behaved to harsh everyone’s mellow. In fact, you should probably think of your best friend as a peacock, too. All she wants right now through her honeymoon is to be the center of attention. You’re going to need to resist the urge to tell her to STFU.

That probably seems like a lot to ask considering your feelings about her fiancé, but chances are that if she hasn’t figured out that he’s a dick by now, a candid expression of your feelings isn’t going to change her mind. Conventional wisdom usually holds that drugs aren’t the answer, but in your case, I am going to recommend a couple of bong hits before spending time with your best friend – just to give you some perspective. Weddings are ridiculously silly for the most part, and you need to get in touch with the part of you that understands and appreciates that.

The Stockholm Syndrome

The Luv Doc

Volleyball: Seriously, it’s like a crowded game of badminton with a huge, unfeathered cock

May 4, 2012

Dear Doc of Luv,
Due to a recent change in fortune, I’m soon leaving Austin and a job I love to pursue my dream of writing the Great American Novel – or at least, hopefully, a pretty decent one that doesn’t get pulped within a year. Anyway, in spite of weekly deadline stress at my job, inevitable weight gain from innumerable breakfast tacos and beers during thrice-weekly post-work volleyball games, and all manner of snarking, pranking, and metaphorical bra-strap snapping at the hands of my co-workers, I’ve come to realize that I truly love these jags and will miss them horribly. How can I stay in touch? Facebook seems too impersonal.
Thanks,
Sarah S.

Bra-strap snapping, metaphorical or not, constitutes sexual harassment and creates a hostile work environment – more hostile in fact, than being force-fed breakfast tacos or coerced and intimidated into playing the most un-American of truly American sports: Volleyball. Seriously, it’s like a crowded game of badminton with a huge, unfeathered cock. Therefore, I recommend you employ legal counsel immediately.

Here’s my short list: Racehorse Haynes (bona fide war hero with a badass nickname), Joe Jamail (Billionaire and notorious pit bull litigator), and Dick DeGuerin (kept Billy Joe Shaver from going to prison after he shot a man in the face). Yes, you read that right: Shot a man in the face. Billy Joe got off scot-free, but you probably won’t. Like any Stockholm Syndrome sufferer, you have formed a bond of affection with your captors – one that may take years of therapy to unravel. Therapy, regardless of how ridiculous it might seem, costs a lot of money.

Therefore, make sure you go for the throat with the lawsuit. Keep in mind these jags – and I’m betting you’re being kind with that assessment – have kept you from pursuing your dream. Although let’s be honest here: Novels are a bit of an anachronism – sort of like phonographic records or pornographic DVDs. In spite of that adversity, you’ve set the bar high by choosing a career that people no longer care about – well, at least beyond 140 characters. Bully for you, Sarah. Quixote didn’t let reality deter him from his pursuit of jousting, did he?

Before you go stabbing windmills, though, you need to put your hands on enough cash to be able to pay an affable, dim-witted peasant to humor you in your folly when no one else will. Otherwise, you’re going to have to rely on friends to do that for you, and that’s risky business. Like stray kittens, friends are always meowing at your screen door, begging for attention. That’s why I am going to suggest you keep them at a safe distance on Facebook, just like your co-workers. Better yet, if you don’t want to interact with your friends at all, try Google+!

The Mind-Numbing Hell of Child-Oriented Places

The Luv Doc

For aeons, child rearing was just a begrudging afterthought, and somehow humanity managed to march forward

Friday, April 27, 2012

Dear Luv Doc,
My brother is coming to Austin at the end of the month with his wife and three kids (grade-school age). Any ideas on things we can do/places we can go?
– Tom

Tom, don’t fuck around taking them to Barton Springs or to ride the Zilker choo-choo. Barton Springs is so cold you will feel your balls scamper up to the back of your throat when you dive in, and the Zilker choo-choo is only entertaining until you figure out about 30 seconds into the ride that A) You could get out and walk faster; B) even though the train seems to be moving, there is somehow no breeze and it’s oppressively hot; C) the leg room is about as ample as the backseat of a clown car; and D) you will be stared at for the entire journey by an unsupervised, fat-headed toddler waving around a rapidly melting chocolate ice cream cone who looks like he spent the entire day rolling in dirt – dirt that is exquisitely interwoven in a massive rivulet of snot dripping from his nose – a giant, green glacier of slowly oozing bacteria that miraculously survives his occasional snorting arm swipes, a glistening emblem of gross and perhaps even criminally negligent parental disregard. Why do that to yourself and your guests? Just because your brother decided to use the pull-and-pray method of birth control doesn’t mean you have to suffer through the mind-numbing hell of child-oriented places and activities. For aeons, child rearing was just a begrudging afterthought, and somehow humanity managed to march forward. Remus and Romulus were raised by wolves, for Christ’s sake, and they have a city named after them … well, the one that wasn’t killed does. Therefore, when your bro gets here, take him and his immediately to the Jackalope. Go in the early evening so they get to walk past scary homeless people and drug dealers. The kids will love playing on the huge fiberglass jackalope by the door – at least long enough for you to knock back a few brewskis. Here’s a dirty little secret: In Texas, it’s legal to take your kids into bars. However, it’s not legal to take other people’s kids into bars (and it’s also kind of creepy) so just make sure your brother or his wife are in sight at all times, and get your drizzy on, yo. If they get bored at the Jackalope, the stuffed bear over at Mohawk will scare the shit out of them even if the bear bartenders don’t.

Bikinis, Banana Hammocks, and Baby Oil

The Luv Doc

You can never be overdressed or overeducated

Man and woman making copies while wearing swimsuits

April 19, 2012

Dear Luv Doc,
I just moved to Austin in December and have found that the dress code in my office is much more relaxed than it was in New York. Any suggestions on where I might get some cool, casual office clothes?
– Overdressed

In the words of Oscar Wilde, “You can never be overdressed or overeducated.” Those are decent words to live by in most situations, but there are plenty of examples that prove otherwise: Louis XVI probably wished he had reined in the foppery a bit, and you have to think David Foster Wallace might have been better served if he had watched more Jackass, Geraldo, and Jerry Springer.

In Austin, people tend to dress down a bit for pretty much one reason only: It’s effin’ hot. No one will necessarily call you out for wearing a fancy full-length fur coat or worsted wool knickerbockers (which, I am told, are quite popular in the Empire State), but regardless of what your employee handbook states, Austin’s climatological dress code highly encourages bikinis, banana hammocks, and baby oil. Just call that the bare minimum.

This may seem a bit outrageous and hyperbolic now, but you’ve only been here since December. Wearing anything made of wool in the summer in Austin is like walking around covered in sweaty fiberglass. There is only one true fabric (well, other than the spandex that outlines your junk) in Austin: cotton. Synthetics, regardless of their myriad features, are, in the dead of summer, basically funk sponges. As of yet, no chemist has concocted a detergent strong enough to fully leech the unholy union of crotch stank, pit musk, and body odor from cheap polyester. Cotton, however, with enough detergent and bleach, comes out fresh every time. That’s why it’s the staple of the South – the preferred fabric of Jesus and Gandhi. Those dudes were chill because they weren’t wearing fucking polyester.

So, where to find the best cotton clothing? It’s everywhere, but if you’re looking for cheap, serviceable, cool clothing (and by “cool” I mean that it breathes – the other cool comes from the wearer, not the clothes) the best place to go is Goodwill. I know what you’re thinking: Dead people’s clothes? Yeah, maybe that’s sketch if you’re buying dead people’s polyester because that shit is haunted by dead people’s aromas, but even if the cotton T-shirt you’re buying is riddled with bloody bullet holes, it will still wash up fresh as the morning dew with the right detergent. Jesus would have called that resurrection. The Luv Doc calls that a bargain.