The return of Blunt Life Coach™ last week was overwhelmingly successful. It seems that there’s a market for raw, unfiltered, and no-holds-barred advice. So I present to you, without further ado (why is the ado always gone?), Blunt Life Coach™…
Blunt Life Coach™ speaks: Hello, heathens. Evidently my return last week was well-received and even more questions poured in. And I must say, some of you are some sick fuckers. I’m not sure I want to touch some of those questions with a 10-foot pole wearing a 10-foot, extra-thick body condom. BUT, since I’m a bad ass stormtrooper, much like you know who, I will tackle them with gusto. Or die trying. On to the fucking questions.
When is an apology in order? Elyse
Elyse, from what little bit I’ve gathered from my reading here on this so-called Unshitty™ blog, you’re never wrong. So what do you need to apologize for? You certainly outwit, out-logic, and out-class Twindaddy on a daily basis and I serious doubt you encounter trouble elsewhere.
There may, however, be some times where no matter what you do an apology is in order. For instance, the next time you prove Twindaddy wrong, apologize to him that you’re so much smarter than him. After all, it’s not your fault he’s such a tool and you rock.
Elyse, I like you. You’re wise and experienced, and no doubt do not require my advice in this regard so why are you wasting my fucking time? There are people out there who need me and you’re not one of them. But please feel free to come back if you have a real question.
Dear Blunt Life Coach,
I hope you can help me. I’ve found that ladies are no longer attracted to me
since my man-boobs give a better cleavage than Doris Day. I know I can improve
things by losing weight, but I love to eat. Is there anyway I can keep this
majestic ‘Jabba’ like physique yet be seen as a woman’s potential mate?
Yours, in desperation,
Carl ‘The Ball’ King.
The Ball, huh? Sure, whatever. Carl, if that is indeed your real name, you need to choose what’s more important to you. That unhealthy bag of Cheetos on the counter calling your name or getting laid. If you want to get laid, then throw the Cheetos away and go for a fucking walk. If you would rather eat yourself into oblivion then go to town on the Cheetos and invest in vaseline.
Or perhaps you could do both. Eat all you want, then throw it all up. Otherwise known as bulimia. That way you get the best of both worlds. You still get to enjoy your food AND lose weight. Win win.
And, by the way, exactly what are you doing with your moobs to produce such leviathan cleavage? Cleavage is normally produced by pushing them together so if you’re wearing a bra then you will need to find some other blog to hang out on. That kind of freakiness will not be tolerated here.
Dr. Phil had a program on the other day and stated on that program
that you can not call a woman who sleeps with her son (or a man who sleeps with
his daughter a pedophile unless the child is over 13. My question is no matter
how old the child is, can’t we call them insane? TammyeHoney
Tammy, I must first question why you would watch Dr. Phil. He’s no more qualified to be a doctor than you or I. He simply brings idiots such as the one you described on his show and then proceeds to tell them how stupid they are and how all of their problems are their fault. I can do that just as easily. And with much more style and flair. Where would he be without Oprah? Exactly. Nowhere.
On to your question, I don’t know who that woman is, or was, but she’s a fucking idiot. Any adult who has sex with a child (whether they are over 13 or not) is a pedophile and is indeed a sick, twisted, and insane individual and should be sent to the gallows. Or hung by their ballsack. Or something of that nature. If there’s one type of offender I loathe more than the rest it’s pedophiles. Sick fuckers.
Until a few years ago there was a magic fairy that picked up after me. Now I
have started to notice that if I throw my clothes on the floor, they are still
there the next morning. The dishes are still in the sink too.
I don’t know what to do. I could start picking up after myself, but with the
really important things in life, like things like watching TV and stalking dudes
on Facebook, I don’t really have time.
Is there somewhere I can go to find a new magic fairy to pick up after me?
-Lost in a Mess
Lost, first of all, please don’t make the mistake of thinking that Twindaddy answers these questions. He’s ill-equipped to do so and hence the reason I’m here. Secondly, I think you’re confused about just what has happened. That “magic fairy” was your motivation, which you seem to have lost.
Sure you could start picking up after yourself, but, yeah, you should start picking up after yourself. Slob. C’mon. I bet your dirty clothes are on the floor right next to the fucking hamper. They are, aren’t they? I knew it! Lazy ass. If you put your clothes in the hamper when you take them off instead of tossing them on the floor there’s no mess. I feel like I’m talking to a child.
Also, as far as your dirty dish problem, just start buying microwaveable meals and use paper plates. Then, when you’re done, everything can just be tossed in the garbage. Tadaaa! No mess. Problem solved. You’re welcome.
Now lets address your priorities. Watching TV? There is nothing on TV worth watching any more. It’s all crap. The sitcoms suck and the “reality” shows are even worse. Turn off the TV and read a book. Or this blog. Either way it’s better than the crap you’d be watching on TV. As to the Facebook stalking, please…have some dignity. You shouldn’t be stalking dudes on Facebook, unless it’s me. They should be stalking you. If they aren’t then you’re doing something wrong. Perhaps you don’t have enough provocative pictures posted? Or perhaps you’re not posting enough vague statuses in which you passive-aggressively fish for compliments or attempt to make people feel sorry for you. You have somehow got to draw more attention to yourself. I’ve given you a couple of good ideas, now you have to find what works best for you.