Dear AA,
I have just moved into the dorms and I’m freaking out! My roommate is one of the most bizarre people I’ve ever met. She has an imaginary friend that lives with us and collects toe nail clippings in a jar, which at times, she eats. What do I do?
Sincerely,
Can I Go Home Now?
Dear Home,
Sounds like a pretty brutal problem, but one that can be easily fixed by a trip to your local liquor store. But assuming you’re not 21, we’ll pretend I didn’t say that.
You may not know this but toenail clippings happen to be a delicacy in more than a few regions of this great collection of states. In fact, many of the fine, attractive citizens in the states of Miss., Ala. and the UP roast their toenails in butter and salt, as opposed to the traditional way of eating them plain. It’s nice to know that evolution is still alive and well in America. In a few years, they will become the new Pepperidge Farm Goldfish-like snack complete with anthems singing about the joys of real cheese baked right into the nail and it will become no more disgusting of a thought than the concept of a cheeseburger, which is the ultimate diss towards Hinduism because not only are you eating the cow, but you’re topping the burger with the bovine’s own excrements.
If you’ve thrown up in your mouth a little already, there are other options. For example, whenever your roommate and her imaginary friend leave for class or somewhere, replace her clippings with yours or those of your close friends after you’ve been exercising extensively. That’s sure to add enough spice so she’ll have problems choking down the bite-size morsels because of the difference in taste.
However, this may not work if she’s been eating them for a long time because she most likely knows what she tastes like. Good luck, and remember, if that fails you could always plant drugs in your roommates desk, but I would only recommend it if her friend likes and wants more of your toenail clippings.
Dear AA,
Help! I’ve lost the love of my life, Brett Favre. Food has lost all taste. Night has become day. Even the Elton John song, “Benny and the Jets,” is depressing because I hear “Bretty” instead of “Benny.” I can’t handle the thought of him playing for the Jets. How do I go on?
Sincerely,
Jet Lagged
Dear Jet Lagged,
I must admit, I hear Cinderella’s, “Don’t Know What You Got ‘Til It’s Gone,” every time I see Madden 2009 on the shelf. But, there are ways to deal with this national tragedy.
You could do what I do pretty much once or twice a year: Watch the official collector’s edition “Road to Super Bowl XXXI” complete with all the Brett Favre in green and gold you can handle. However, don’t watch too far into the credits because the screen will cut to a camera in the north end zone positioned on Frank Winters eating a box of Krispy Kremes on the opposite end of the field. With every bite, he moves five yards closer to you until he’s staring you right in the face and ready to jump out of the television. If he lifts up his jersey to expose his stomach, you won’t ever be able to eat Krispy Kreme’s again. You’ve been warned.
But things could also be worse. We could have Danny Wuerffel, Tim Couch or Chris Weinke as the starting quarterback, even though two of those three have been on the roster at some point in time. The worst case scenario would be the resurrection of Ray “chew on your gum and stare ahead blankly as if nothing is going on around you” Rhodes as the Packers’ head coach, so count your blessings that won’t ever happen again.
Until then, my ultimate advice would be to stop listening to songs with words that can rhyme with “Brett” or “Favre” in any manner. You’re going to have to try going cold turkey until Aaron Rodgers’ consistently inconsistent facial hair grows on you. Personally, the only thing I’ll never forget is Favre’s passionate, passionate love for Skoal Cherry. Nothing says “take a Southern man seriously” like fruit flavored chewing tobacco.
