Manliest post about fashion advice.

My darling Pudding Pops,

I have been reviewing only the posts I have made that could be considered 'Very Awesome' and have noticed that they all carry that delicious moniker. However, I am a little remiss in the area of 'complete and total manliness'
I know what you are thinking(all of the time, mind you) and you are thinking this:
'But the Manliness is in the subtext. I have never met a man so full of man.'
To quote a rapper friend of mine, 'I feel you'
But today's post is gonna be chock full of beef, radical moves on my skateboard of fire and guns. All of those things are high on any man's list of things needed to be happy.
After you read what I have to tell Debbie, you will need a thousand wet-naps to wipe the hot advice-sauce off of your fingers, because this YesAndy! is on Nuclear Fire. (Hotter than regular fire).
Debbie writes:


Dear YesAndy!
I have never been what you'd call a fashionista, but having recently
entered a career as a secretary for a high-profile law firm, I feel
that it is time I started dressing a little better. As noted, though,
I just started this job, so I don't have much money yet. What is your
wardrobe advice for a brand-new secretary on a budget?

-Debbie D.
Newark, NJ

Dear Debbie (Yo, Woman!)
What in the shit are you yammering about? (Hell if I know)
If I were a Man, and bet your ass I am. I am the freaking King of them. The Zeus of Men. I'm trembling at my own power, I am so Manly.
Damn it. This isn't working out like I had planned...
Ok, Debbie. Here's the deal- You are not going to like this post one bit unless you drop your woman attitude. This is a MAN POST. YOU WILL ACCEPT MY MAN-VICE(The word 'Man' coupled with 'advice')
Today I take no prisoners and I don't care if I make you cry into your special K cereal (widely known to be the one thing all women eat).
I will be taking you on a rampage, and in my mind you are dressed like Raquel Welch in One Million Years BC.
(By 'Rampage' I mean an adventure where I treat you to dinner and a movie and ask your parents if I can see you again. Home before 9pm, I swear. No wandering hands.)

So you want to look nice at the lawyer-hut? Try soaking your hands in blood. Those things(lawyers) are vicious. And Jersey Lawyers are probably the worst. They talk funny. Not like Minnesotans who invented language and how to speak it properly.
But thank the gods you came to me for help, instead of dropping into a Contempo Casual or a Talbots. Their high pressure sales tactics rival that of The Radio Shack employee or those blood suckers at Claire's Boutique. I speak from someone else's experience, I assure you.
My fashion taste is rather upscale, but since I too am on a budget, I make shabby sheik look like it was stripped from Gianni Versaci's immaculate corpse. That made sense to YesAndy!
Here are some things to consider. Five of them:

1) The term 'fashionista' is a made up word from your head. I am the only one in this venue (interweb) that can make up words. (Thank you in advance, readers)
However, the word 'Fashionatrix' is one I use to describe this savvy YesAndy!
You will notice that the image you have of me in your mind's eye is correct. I do look nice.
Really really nice, in fact.

2) The best part of being at a desk all day is that you do not have to wear pants. That cuts your clothing budget in half, giving you more dollars to buy more tops. Now, I know that in today's modern office, there are positions known as 'standing' Even the occasional 'Walking around'. You may be asked to do this in your new job, Debbie. Politely tell the powers that be when they ask you to do these things to go to hell. Start screaming "I don't have to put up with this shit! I am a Man! I do whatever the hell I want! I will eat roast beef if it strikes my fancy!"
You may notice that I told you to scream out that you are a Man. Remember that my word is gold, and you did ask me for advice.
Your superiors at the Lawyer place will be confused and try to use their Law-talk at you. Remind them once again that you will eat roast beef. Even if they do not want you to. Roast beef is delicious, and they will want to end the conversation right then and there in case they begin to look foolish.

3) Only go to work on casual days. Or, since you are probably in charge of the office, consider making every day a casual day. Even YesAndy! likes to wear Kakhi pants and a tee shirt here at headquarters. And If I ever give myself any guff, I start screaming that I am a man. And then I head over to Arby's if I have a coupon.

4) Why is Arby's so freaking expensive?! That stuff isn't even real roast beef! It pisses me off that you have to do the 4 items for $5.99 or else your dinner is going to be like $10.00
And those chocolate pastries the have taste like crap. Avoid those. The cherry ones are way better. And they only send coupons in those 'have you seen me?' circulars every three months or something. You might get lucky and find them in the Sunday paper, but by then I'm way too tired to go out to Arby's in the first place. Whatever. Fuck Arby's.
What? Oh. Here's your fifth thing:

5) In this tricky economy, you really need to go shopping at thrift stores. They not only have really good deals, but they also have housewares and old records. I got a Queen album that I was looking for for like .50 cents! And I walked away with a pair of pants for a dollar. A dollar! It was like I was robbing the place.


Debbie, you are going to be just fine. I promise. Clothes do make the man, but you are a woman, so you need to find something else that makes you. I bet you don't even need clothes. Women are generally pretty attractive, and the ones who request my sage wisdom are among the prettiest in the land. Having never been to New Jersey, I cannot guarantee how good the Arby's are there, but the ones in Minnesota have free wi-fi now, and most of them look like hotel lobby's. Or would that be 'Lobbies'? I never could get that one. Maybe it's actually 'Arbies'?
I pretty much forgot what your question was, but I am glad to have been there for you.
Please note that you can steal office supplies and return them to Office Depot or Staples for cash money you can use to buy albums and old George Foreman Grills at the local thrift store.
Or clothes. You can maybe get women's clothes there. Good luck on your new job!

Have a fantastic Day, Debbie.

The Godfather of the FashionOstra (fashion and cosa nostra put together),
YesAndy!

Harpers Bazaar is not like a Bazaar in Morocco.

Dearest knights of the Coffee table,

Do not be fooled by the amount of product I am pressing out en mass.
The YesAndy! factories will have to take a holiday sometime, as I am the only worker, and I refuse to outsource my wisdom to the Indians. Dot, not feathers. Not that I dislike them both, quite the contrary, I enjoy both Curry and all of North America. Which they both invented respectively.
It's just that lately, I have been asked so many pressing questions, that I feel if I take even the shortest vacation, I will risk making you feel alone.
You are not alone, my flock. I am right here waiting to shave you and sell your wool to the highest bidder.
Speaking of shaving and curry and other things, it looks like our next 'Helpee' came to me just in time. A person named 'Fingers' writes:

Dear Yes Andy,

I left my house yesterday by foot, and in a neighbor's yard I found something interesting. It appeared to be a monkey's paw. I love wishes(good), but it was gross and I am not down with disease(bad). So I left it there and now I regret it. Did I make the right decision?

Fingers

Dear Fingers,
Hell if I know, Man. I mean, if I were a Witch Doctor ('Which' I am. Pun intended) I would click and whistle many things to you regarding the evil that you avoided while at the same time berate your folly at the unlimited power that you passed by.
That's right, Fingers, Monkey Paws are sacred magic. Sacred, dark and evil magic.
Not to be confused with Monkey Blood, which everyone knows is in everything we drink with the exception of Diet Coke.
I am impressed with your knowledge of Monkey Paws, Fingers. In fact, I know of only one man who knows more on the subject than I do. My old professor-
Dr. Hestridge Turnbuckle Merriwether Thistlewaite Esq. III.
I say he was my professor out of respect, as I surpassed his knowledge which at one time when I was 11 seemed infinite. Sadly, when I took a very important exam in Smart School, my brain was pronounced the biggest and best. Thus making him redundant. He went mad with melancholy and jealousy, and was last seen in a carnival in the orient selling paper hats made out of stone.

The whole business was terrible, and I seldom like to delve into my past.

But you, Fingers, seem to be channeling his knowledge of the Monkey Paw. And I consider it destiny that you found me on this world wide superhighway. So many years later. If it wouldn't be too much of a bother, I will be referring to you from now on with a nickname I liked to call my dear colleague.

So, Dr. Asshole. You walked by a Monkey Paw and were afraid of the little cooties it had on it.
Nice going, braintrust. Did you ever even read my essay on the power that little ziplock sandwich bags hold?
No, you didn't, as it was only in the New England Journal of Fucking Medicine. And I doubt you have a subscription like I do.
See,they are tiny little plastic bags that you can put stuff in to keep them fresh and tidy. They are designed for two things
A- Keeping sandwiched soft and delicious
B- Monkey Paws.
So, Dr. Asshole, here are five things for you to consider:

1) When you come across a Monkey Paw, you pick it up. Just as if I were to walk next to a box carrying the bones of Christ himself, I would maybe stop a minute to check out how heavy the box was and maybe call into work that day because I had the bones of Jesus and unlimited cosmic power. Hell, even if it were a Jesus Paw I would take it. You don't find those everyday and there are only five in existence. You know what kind of paw I would NOT stop and pick up?
See number two:

2) ALWAYS SAY YES TO PAWS. Take all the Paws you can, and never ever question it again. The thing that is so great about Monkey Paws is that most people don't want to touch them, so not to say they are plentiful, they are attainable. Not like the Paws of the 'Tibetan Johnny Cock'. Those are more of a claw thing, and usually they are covered in elf blood. But everyone in the field of science and mysticism knows that claws trump paws any day of the week. But we are talking about Paws, aren't we, Dr. Asshole?

3) I was talking earlier about the attainability of Monkey Paws. Now, everyone knows that with the possession of the paw of a monkey, you get as many wishes as there are digits on the paw. However, what many do not realize is that you can easily make false monkey paws in your kitchen. I have, in my travels, come across many of them. See, the tricky thing about these fake paws is that you still get wishes out of them, but the wishes you get are evil wishes. The kind of wishes that teach you lessons about greed and stuff.

4) Please remember, Dr. A, that you may have avoided a fake Monkey Paw while walking around your neighborhood, you also missed an opportunity to play a game called "Reverse Monkey Paw Psychology" This game, along with Justice League Monopoly, Mad Gab and The Clarissa Explains it all Board game are among my favorite activities when with a group of close friends. All you have to do is ask the paw a wish that is the opposite of what you really intend. It's pretty simple. For example: If you want several Million US Dollars in small unmarked non consecutive bills, all you need to wish is- I wish that my worst enemy would get several million US Dollars...etc.
That way, the evil is put upon your enemies head, and all you have to do is break into his/her garage with a lot of duffel bags and a wheel barrow.
This game however does not work when wishing for sexual fantasies to come true, because you end up having sex with zombies or something.

5) Did you ever think that perhaps that Monkey Paw was the neighbors who you were spying on? Maybe they realized that it was an evil monkey paw and threw it out into the yard, hoping that some peeping Tom neighbor would get his come-uppance? I think you should invest in some binoculars and stick to the old fashioned 'looking out your back window with binoculars' and maybe you will see something interesting like a murder. However, do not overlook the fact that your neighbor could be sitting on a lot of cash in his garage, and the only thing between you and the almighty dollar is a small deadbolt lock and some zombie hookers. Both of which can be dealt with if you bring a crowbar.

So Fingers(Dr. Asshole) I appreciate you bringing me down memory lane. I haven't thought of that old son of a bitch since I was a pre-teen. Also, it is Winter, the monkey Paw would probably be well preserved in the cold. A trip to your local mercantile would get you the ziplock bags you need for future endeavors into the dark and interesting science of the occult.
I should also mention that they are great for organizing beads if you moonlight as a jewelry maker. So I would check and see if the paw is still there, and try tempting fate.
But don't be a fool and wish for more Monkey Paws. Those things are covered in wood ticks. Much like children.

Best Monkey Paw Wishes!

Your favorite fortune telling carnie,
YesAndy!

I am your torchsong. And other things.

Good afternoon, agents of change!

The good news is that I am getting better at organizing all of my items on the old 'to do' list and you are the ones who will take home the spoils.
I think I can do 'Laundry' later tonight.
I feel I can change the cat litter while doing the laundry because the box is in the same room in my palatial stronghold that is the YesAndy! offices.
I know I can use my time to serve you better and answer the things you need answering.
Maybe we can learn something along the way.
Come, gentle Pilgrim, let us tally forth to dizzying heights of understanding. Together, hand in hand, we will own the night and remember the Titans and Bring it on again and again.
This next query comes from some manly man named Steve. He writes:

Dear YesAndy,

Sometimes I get the song "Girlfriend" by Avril Lavigne stuck in my
head for hours and hours. I hate it. What should I do?

Sincerely, Steve


Dear Steve,
Hell if I know, man. If I was a radio disc jockey (which I am) and you called in to try and listen to that song, here is how the conversation would go:

YesAndy!- Hey, this is YesAndy! The best DJ on planet Earth! Coming to you live from the sweet as hell studio that looks exactly like the bridge of the Enterprise AND The Millenium Falcon (Because that would be the sweetest studio ever) I'm spilling hot hits into your lap because I am the Bartender of sound! My martini shaker of tunes is overflowing with the tastiest music that make your ears drunk with... Music! Woah! looks like there is a 40 car pileup on a highway because that last rad-ass song I played made everyones 'music-blood' level five times the legal limit! I'm taking requests on the 'Yes-Line' Remember the number is area code six- tee- nine 696-9696..9 Oh yeah! I'm like the kool aid man busting through a wall, holding a briefcase full of shit you wanna hear!
First caller, go ahead!"

Steve- "Uh. Hi. I'm a freaking nerd who has never seen a woman. I would like to hear a song called 'I wish I had a Girlfriend' by some chick. Oh! gotta go! Xena And The View And Martha Stewart are all on at once, I have to go cry and think about unicorns."

YesAndy!- "Hell no, Steve!"

End Scene.

Steve. Steve. Steve!
What am I going to do with you? I can only take so much 'What the Hell?!' each day, and your question just used up a week of it!
There is a word we use in the advice giving circuit (which is just like the Rodeo Circuit, if you were curious) for people like you: Hopeless.
However, since YesAndy! is a kind and benevolent god of the 'WhatshouldIDo's?' I choose to help you scratch out the 'less' in 'hopeless' and give you 'more' making you 'HopeMore'
All copywritten catchphrases aside, I am glad you came to me for help and not someone mean like one of my brothers. Those guys are dicks and cannot be trusted like the Y.A.!-Man.
Here are some things that will help you with your problem:

1)To understand the song 'Girlfriend' you need to know what that word means. To do that, you need to talk to a girl, and use some magic potion to get her to like you enough to date you. I suggest going to a gypsy and having him/her brew up some number nine. Dig it?
I am not condoning the use of roofies to get a girl. If you do that, I will kill you. That stuff gives guys a bad wrap, and we already have to deal with those Frat boys and guys who use spray tanning and wear popped collars.
The best place for you to go would be a sci-fi convention or a renaissance fair. The women who go to those are willing to do just about anything. Seriously, they rule.

2) Avril Levigne is not a real name. That is a strange way of saying
'Avril' Which is French for 'April' which is a month in the calendar year.
'Levi' Which is a brand of denim.
'Gne' which is black forest slang from the 1500's for Gnome. And those are woodland people who wear pointy hats and build shoes or something.
So putting it all together, the song is written by a "Forest sprite who wears jeans in the Springtime"
I don't have anything more to say about it. The proof is right there.

3) "Hate" is such a strong word. It is used too much in todays society. However, do you know what word is used more than that? 'Hours' You used it twice in your question, Steve. I get it. But no matter what song I have stuck in my head, and trust me-they are usually awesome songs, they are not there for more than a few minutes. Maybe my brain is more powerful than yours. That could be the case. Actually, it probably is. I tested at a very high brain level in smart school. It is my cross to bear, Steve, and I don't want to make you sad.
In fact, let's just move on to your number four thing before you start crying.

4) Any song that runs through your head over and over should be a song that could be played as part of a soundtrack in a movie. A really good part in a movie. Like when they all start shooting each other and there are explosions. And someone is on fire. If 'Girlfriend' is one of those movies, then more power to you and the Gnome in Spring Jeans. But if I am correct, and I am, that song would play well during Steel Magnolias* and/or Circle of Friends. Maybe even that traveling pants movie with all the hot chicks in it. (not without irony, as it is about pants and the song is written by a Gnome). When I think of it, all those movies needed was a few scenes where they all start shooting each other and there are explosions. And someone is on fire. And now we have come full circle, and you are realizing the soothing help that I give people.
What was I talking about? Oh yeah, Number five:

5) Have you tried listening to more than just the one song, Steve? I suggest listening to Queen, Aerosmith, or basically anyone else. Hell, even watching tv will give you a nice Jingle every now and again. You ever hear the Menards theme song, Steve? It's like Mozart. Or that State Farm ditty? Did you know that Barry Manilow wrote that, Steve? Maybe you should start listening to Regina Spektor. She is way hotter than the Gnome girl. Less angry too.

So Steve, did we make a breakthrough or what?!
You are going to start listening to other music that doesn't suck, and I am going to watch Steel Magnolias tonight. Everybody wins.
If there are rules to this thing we call life, I think it's that helping people figure stuff out is what I am awesome at doing.
I think there are other rules, but I am going to go watch a movie.
Steve, watch your back, and while at those sci-fi cons, avoid the bondage rooms. If you dig Avril what's her face, you will get all shades of torn up in there.

Your DJ on the afternoon rush hour,
YesAndy!

* Just wanted you to think about Steel Magnolias one more time. That movie rules.

Now hear this!

Rest assured that tomorrow night you will receive an abundance of help for all of your problems.
But right now, YesAndy has to sleep.

Spread the word. The truth is coming.


Sleep well, howler monkeys.

-Y.A.!

Call and response. I patiently wait.

Dear lovers,

I am in need of your need to gain wisdom through my eyes and mind.
Allow me to blow you away with what pops into my head without even trying.
I can and will help you answer life's mysteries.
All you have to do is email me.

brynildson@gmail.com

in point of fact, I dare you to test the boundaries usually left for the once thought dead Gods. They are back, baby, and they have made me wicked smart.
Now, I'm not saying I am a god, but I do tell it like it is and grant wishes and bend rivers with my hands.
Also, I make a pretty good hot chocolate.

I look forward to being back in your life again. And I look forward to helping you even more.

Your future and your present,
YesAndy!

And we're back!

Hello out there to all of you from the void of the world wide web!
The YesAndy! offices are located in Minneapolis, Minnesota, where it is currently a balmy Zero degrees on the Fahrenheit scale.
Zero. That means it is nothing degrees outside, and since I live in a spacious and luxurious mansion that was built before it was fashionable to live in old apartments that they call 'Condo's', my windows are thin, and my space heater is running on all cylinders.
To no avail, I am sad to report. It is cold in my domain, and I am a bit numb in the fingers and grumpy in the attitude.
That, however, will not affect my first advice post in almost two years.
I'd say 'welcome back' but you have never left. No, dear and faithful reader and seeker of the truth, you have been sitting outside in a sleeping bag on the sidewalk of my heart like you are waiting to buy tickets to a wrestling match just to see me pile drive knowledge into the collective minds of the planet.
All imagery aside, I have missed you, and want us to be good friends. You can trust me to never bullshit, and always enlighten.
That said, let us begin our new friendship with my latest query from a hot little number who calls herself 'Juicer'

Dear YesAndy!

If you bleed into food that a vegetarian (but not Vegan) is going to consume, do you have to disclose that information?

Yours truly,
Juicer

Dear Juicer,
Hell if I know, but since it is so freaking cold in my house, I have no choice but to keep typing just to keep the blood flowing through my fingertips. You are in luck, since I value my digits, and am only assuming that you are a woman who wants me to tell you them. Get it? Digits? Like my phone number? The one you want to use to call me and have me whisper sweet nothings in your ear?
I might have been off the reservation for a while, but let me tell you that I am nothing if not more attractive, and I can tell you are interested in me. I'm interested in you, too, Juicer. But my number is unlisted, even though bill collectors seem to have it all figured out.
What did you want again?
Oh yeah, Blood.
That's a tricky thing, blood. And if I was a Hematologist (which I am), I would tell you to stop freaking out. It's just blood, woman, stop crying.
Did you cut yourself?
Are you a chef to the damned?
Who serves blood to people? What kind of restaurant do you run?
I know a lot of people who are vegetarian, and nine times out of ten, they do not order anything with blood in it.
And if they did, then they are a very bad vegetarian and don't know what that lifestyle means.
Here are some things that have popped into my very well shaped head, which I hope helps you decide to be more careful in the kitchen:

1) The worst kind of vegetarian is a Vampire. Those are vegetarians who drink the blood of the living(usually mammals) to survive the endless night that is their undead existence. They lie and tell you that they only eat vegetables, but what they really want is that crimson colored kool aid that keeps the body going. They drink that stuff like it's a taco bell soda fountain and they just paid for a water cup but fill it with diet pepsi. You see what I'm saying, Juicer? The diet pepsi is blood, and the damned vampires are freeloaders who should have forked over the cash and bought at least a small soda cup. I mean, I paid for a soda cup! Why the hell do they get to steal soda? I mean, I'm right there! I know what the water cups look like. They look different from my $1.59 small soda cup. Just stop stealing soda, Juicer. That's all I'm saying.

2) What is worse than Vampires? Actual legit Vegetarians. They don't eat meat or something. Good God! I'd rather be in a room full of Vampires than a room full of Vegetarians. You know one thing a vampire doesn't have that makes them at the very least bearable to be around? Pamphlets. Vegetarians wreak of pamphlets. They want to change you into being one of them more than a Vampire does. Even more than fundamentalist Christians with those papers that ask if you are saved. Holy crap do I hate pamphlets asking me to not eat meat.

3) What is worse than Vegetarian Vampire's with Pamphlets? Vegans. Sweet Sunny Day Christ, do those guys suck. Those are the vegetarians who have gone off the grid and seen the face of god and it has made them more bat-shit crazy than all of the Rush Limbaugh's of the world. They have seriously lost their minds. Those people don't just not eat meat, but they don't eat something that has been within a hundred yards of meat. Or has the word meat in it. Or has the letters M, E, A or T in the title.
And I'm pretty sure they smell weird. And most of them have dreadlocks and dirty clothes.

4) If a Vegetarian Vampire Vegan like you were talking about in your question has bled on anything you are about to eat, I am pretty sure you are going to die, Juicer. That, or become a right wing fundamentalist. I'm not sure. I think I have forgotten what your question was about. It is so damn cold in here.

5) If you really did bleed on some VeggieVampEgan (new term we should all use)'s food, I am pretty sure they will only want more of your delicious blood and you should quit your job and skip town. They are coming to get you, Juicer. And they have a lot of fucking pamphlets. Get out of there! The proverbial phone call is coming from inside the damn building! Run! But don't come here, it is zero degrees. Let's you and I meet on some beach somewhere, ok?

In the end, Juicer, if you bleed on someone's anything, be it food or even a sweater you borrowed, you should tell them. Unless you got the blood out with a lot of hot water or bleach.
I wouldn't suggest using bleach to clean blood off of food, as it is a poison and will kill people.
And if you do use bleach, please clear the history section of your computer so I cannot be linked to your trail of death.
Remember that eating meat is fun and delicious. And Vegetarian Vampire Vegans are to be feared. Out of irony, I suggest you make a pamphlet and pass it out to people waiting at bus stops to spread awareness of our common enemy.
I know you will do the right thing with my wisdom in your toolbelt.
Goodluck, Juicer. I love you with all my carnivorous might. As do we all.
And no, you should never tell anyone you bled on their food. That is so fucking gross.

Stay awesome!

Your meat eating buddy of the night,
YesAndy!

Add one more, and it's a baker's dozen. Thirteen!

Take ten, add four and take away one.
That is a word problem of YesAndy! Proportions. At least for this golden oldie...
Note that this post is the last of the old ones.
Now we begin a new chapter in helping people help themselves by asking me to help them.
All we need now is for someone to ask for help.
I'm waiting...

-Y.A.!

Friday, March 23, 2007

I am your pole dancer, a dancer for money... Current mood:Tickled pink My Tasters of Choice, I long for the day when no one needs my advice or has any questions. But until that day, I will always put you up on a pedestal and throw opinion rocks at you till you fall onto a pillow of understanding. I make you feel better because you make me feel better. Let's keep it up. Tell your friends that I can help them, or that I am an easy way to pass the time. Some of the messages sent to me are from people who have been in my presence. This could be you. It is a nice place to be, because I am so supportive and honest. This next query comes from a girl named 'Misty Vapors'. While I know that there are about a million jokes running through your head having to do with strippers, I will rise above the nonsense and try to not take us down a road more traveled by Junior High School students… Just kidding. It's totally a stripper name, right? Here's her question and what I had to say so she felt like a natural woman: dear mr. yes when i sleep, i dream. when i dream, i dream i am a shooting star crashing into earth. but, is that really possible? arent stars just balls of gas? and if so can they come crashing into anything? and if they are gas, do they smell? or is the smell added later? and if i was a gas, does that mean i couldnt have sex? and if i couldnt have sex, is there a reason for living? and if im not living....well..hum...is gas alive? confused, misty vapors Dear Misty, Stop writing me. I really think you are stupid. Love, Yes Andy! Awww, come on, I'm just pulling your leg! This is a place where we all can relax and make with the nice! Here's my real response: Dearest Miss Vapors, Hell if I know. In fact, seriously, what did you just say? I'm all for run on sentences and I think that they are awesome and cool and super sweet if you use them correctly, but sometimes I use them incorrectly and I feel bad but you have to understand that I never said that I would use anything that I learned in English class here in this advice forum. Comma splices are fucking rad too! Misty, if I were a man of science (which I am) I would tell you first that 'shooting stars' are actually meteors, not stars. You are right, though, stars are balls of gas. After that, you went on some tangent about how you want to get laid or something. I can help you get laid, but I cannot help you with the astronomy lesson you want me to prepare you. I often hear after intimate 'astronomy lessons' that the ladies under my tutelage have 'seen stars' or 'felt the Earth move' but you have really made those analogies seem perverted and strange… I forgive you, but remember these five things: 1. Your dreams, as real as they may seem, are actually illusions that your brain is creating to get you to go back to school and take an English course. For example: at the beginning of each new sentence, start with a capital letter. Also, when referring to yourself, remember to capitalize the letter 'I' 'I' means you, Misty, and you are the best thing ever! Never let some mean old teacher tell you otherwise. 2. I think in #1 I was going to say something about proper nouns. I forget what it was, so I will let you ponder that instead of having a number two. 3. I can dig that you are interested in science, Misty. I think that that is really great. I watch Star Trek sometimes and wonder if 'space' really 'exists'. That was pretty funny how I put quotes on the words space and exists…because we all know that both of those things go against God and all his glory. 4. Remember in #3 when I ended with something that seemed like I was bashing God and or his/her followers? I totally wasn't trying to do that. But to avoid a discussion about my religious beliefs, I will change the subject by saying that I think you may be addicted to sex, Misty. 5. I really am trying to help you, Misty, but I have to be honest with you: I spilled soup on my bedspread while I was writing #2, and I haven't been paying much attention to what I was writing. Soup is a pain to clean up, you know? Also, gas is not alive. That is ridiculous. The universe is full of crazy questions, Misty. I'm sure that when we all go where we are supposed to in the end, we will get some sort of video that is not unlike a training video you have to watch when you work at a K-mart. In fact, I'm sure that when we are all dead, we are referred to by a nebulous form as 'Team Members' or 'Associates'. And God's sense of humor will be to make us all wear blue vests and help people find the automotive section until the end of time. Getting back to your rant about whatever, Misty: You are a special person who has a lot of potential. You shine just as brightly as any star and you are not made of gas, but rather hugs and sugar. And it is that fact that will help you get all sorts of sex that will make your life worth living. I cannot believe I spilled my soup. Stay Awesome, Misty! Your Ron Jeremy of the night sky, Yes Andy

The one called a dozen.

I'll have one dozen bits of advice from you, YesAndy!
And I give it to you, as I am your only hope for the answers.
-Y.A.!

Friday, March 16, 2007

Three lefts make a right... Current mood:Happy to be here. My Dearest Flock Of Seagulls, I have to be honest with you. I owe it to all of my faithful readers. I just deleted a paragraph containing flowing prose and tales of valiant knights all in the hopes of explaining why I have been gone for so long. I have to admit, I am a very talented wordsmith, and the things I tell you are not meant as mere advice, but rather law that you should pass to your children's children. I think that you deserve the real reason why I have been gone for so long. Why I am sure you thought that I had abandoned you. The answer is simple. As if a child had come up with the reason. In fact, a child did come up with the reason. I went to Asia to become an Animal Doctor and to learn how to shoot lasers out of my eyes. Let that sink in for a moment. The fact that a five and a half year old came up with the excuse doesn't take away from the fact that I helped a Mommy cat give birth to 8 baby kittens and I wrote 'Yes Andy Rocks!' on the side of a mountain just by staring at it. I did this just before I sat in front of my computing machine to answer a burning question from our dear friend "Righty" Of all the questions I have answered in the past, this one took me by surprise. Enjoy, and remember that there are no rules for this mortal coil, just because I haven't thought them up yet. Also, you will notice that the frequency of my replies will be limited to weekly installments. I'm only doing this because I have so many animals to help and stuff to stare at. 'Righty' asks: Dear Mr. Yes, Andy! Is it true that left-handed people are better in bed? xo, Righty Dear Righty, There are times in this column when my usual 'Hell if I know' opener will not work. Truth be told, I only started using that phrase to put you at ease right at the start. I am staggeringly intelligent and did not wish to isolate you. I wanted to develop a friendly relationship with you, and maybe with enough followers, have a catchy phrase to put on a T-shirt that people could identify with. Righty, I think you know where I am going with this… The answer is No. Absolutely not. Left-handed people are an abomination, and go against everything that God designed in the utopia that is the universe. To even think that Left-Handed people have the right to breed is to invite war and tyranny into what is the well-oiled machine of society. Your 5 things: 1)As a writer named Andy, I am a man. I can only assume that you are a woman, Righty. A woman who feels that she has had all the right-handed men who know where ladies like to be touched. I assure you that is not the case. You would know if you have been with Yes Andy! That's right… Yes Andy is a 'righty' too. We can usually sense when one of our own kind is nearby. Right-handed people give out a kind of scent that is not unlike the musk a wild beast uses to attract a mate (if only for one night of intense love-making). I won't say that Yes Andy is flavor country, but if I were the sexiest man writing this column (which I am) I'd say that you stumbled on the best tasting man in the opinion giving field. Or an animal doctor. Which I am also. 2) I realize that I might be too hard on left handed people, or as the oppressed Jews in the Old Testament called them: Pharaoh. Yeah, I might be too hard on them. And Moses might have just been 'overreacting'. 3) I remember that one of my ex girlfriends is left handed. Not to use her misfortune as a point, but I heard that she has a baby now and it has a lazy eye. A lazy LEFT eye! Coincidence? I don't think so, Erica! Who's sorry now? Huh? I guess we all can't be as mature as you! Look at me, I'm leaving you for someone who is stable and has a future! My daddy owns a dealership! Yeah, have fun with your lazy eyed bat-child you evil monster! I don't have a heart to break anymore because of your lies! 4) In the defense of Left handed people, I feel I should look to the opinion of a 3rd party. Someone who is neither left nor right handed. That someone is Harry S. Truman, and he is dead now…. Ok, I jut didn't have a 4th thing to write. I'm sorry, it's late and I have had a long day of Animal doctoring… 5) Let's say that left-handers are the Deceptacons and Right-handers are the Autobots. Left-handers have a bunch of construction equipment that turn into a big robot. Lame. But the Right-handed Autobots(the good guys) have the Dinobots which are much cooler. Especially Grimlock who was the leader. All I'm saying is that the Transformer movie looks cool. Righty, you know I'm just trying to hide the truth behind some flashy pop culture references and some funny bits about my ex-girlfriends ugly chud of a kid, right? We're sharing a few laughs and learning a bit about people who happen to be born with a birth defect. Being left-handed doesn't mean you are better in bed that right handed people. It means you are just 'ok' in bed. I'm super glad that your question could be answered by me. I also have to say that calling me 'Mr. Yes Andy' is making me feel old, so cut that shit out. And by signing with an 'XO' does that mean you want to hug and kiss me? if it does, then XO right back to you and all my readers. Keep those questions rolling in and tell the world that I am back with a vengeance. Stay Awesome, Righty, or some Lefty will steal your wallet. Your right hand man, Yes Andy!

Eleven is my favorite number.

This is number 11 on the hit parade of YesAndy! flashbacks. By now, you must surely have things to ask me, as my wisdom has only increased with time.
-Y.A.!

Sunday, December 03, 2006

Porky's Revenge... Current mood:Enjoying the spectacles My silver bells of Christmas cheer, Many questions are coming into the Yes Andy Headquarters. I have now taken to answer them in varying degrees of importance. While I do like the bland question now and again, or the random sexual fantasy descriptions, let's veer towards questions that have nothing to do with me. This is about how I can help you with my vast expertise on life. I'm shoulder to lean on in a world filled with people who were born without shoulders. Let's help out 'Porky' shall we? I think we will all find that to be comforting. Take my hand, and I will lead you to tomorrow.Here, read this: Dear Yes, Andy!, Every year I go on a camping trip with a big group of friends, and this summer a bunch of new people came. Sam and I share the annual tradition of stopping into town on our way to the park and getting a cartful of sausages, wieners, and other things that keep well in a natural casing. Part of the tradition includes finding room in everyone's cooler for the stuffed intestines. (The vegetarians are a particular target since the foot longs fit so snugly between their French rolls.) Well, this summer, as we were rummaging in some random cooler under the food tarp, some skirt taps me on the shoulder and says, "Just what do you think you're about to do?" So I turned around and told her, "Lady, I'm porkin' your box." Well, she didn't like that too much. Unfortunately, she's a friend of a friend, you see, and now every time I see her she snubs me. Yes, Andy!, what can I do, shy of apologizing, to alleviate this social tension? Sincerely, PorkyDear Porky, I'm going to go out on a limb here and assume that you are 13 years old. I'd start off with my usual 'Hell if I know…' but actually, I do know. You are not looking in the right place for help, because I don't tell people what they want to hear, I tell them what they need to hear. Porky, there are just so many things wrong with your message. I'll start by giving you five things to think about before you go on your next camping trip. Yes Andy likes camping by the way, but camping with you sounds super lame. This will help: 1) Ask yourself if Sam is a real person. I'm not gonna lie to you, Porky, I know a lot of people named Sam, and none of them exist. This reason alone is why I don't talk about Sam. Or any of the Sams I know. You would do better to avoid telling people your imaginary friend's name. 2) There are only so many things in natural casing that are available at the supermarket. None of these products should be the basis of any kind of 'tradition'. You might want to look into a potato sack race or a game of capture the flag during your camping trips. These are fun ways to institute a tradition that do not involve heavily processed meat product. You can also play the games with real people. Sam can come too, but tell him/her that you want to play with some of the other kids. At first, Sam will be mad, maybe even hurt. And if he/she tells you to hurt the other kids while they are sleeping, just remember that it is a natural reaction of all imaginary friends to try and weed out the competition. Killing is always wrong, Porky. Always. 3) Yes Andy needs to quote you now: "Part of the tradition includes finding room in everyone's cooler for the stuffed intestines. (The vegetarians are a particular target since the foot longs fit so snugly between their French rolls.)" Do you know any card games? A game of hearts or old maid is a fun way of starting a tradition. Sam might be telling you lots of things right now. I am not lying, and I am not trying to hurt you. I just think that there are lots of things you could do instead of trying to put meat in coolers to make some memories. Will you want to look back in 20 years at the time you got 5 extra ballpark franks into that igloo cooler, or would you rather remember that one time you were sitting by the campfire and you beat everyone at skipbo? And though I do understand the humor of 13 year olds, I think it is mean to pick on vegetarians. Even though their choice has assured them a place in hell. I kid, I kid. Seriously, though. Meat is awesome. 4) Calling women 'skirts' will never get you kissed by one, Porky. Also, you should think about changing your name, as no girl would ever want to be known as 'The girl who frenched Porky'. That kind of stigma stays with a kid. You should change your name to Chad or Cheryl. Then you will get freaky play from all the ladies. Unfortunately, Sam will try and exact his/her revenge late at night. Stay away from sharp objects, Porky. I think Sam is trying to hurt you. 5) Porking your box isn't funny. Not even when you are 13. Instead of saying that, next time say "I'm about to touch the hand of the most beautiful girl I have ever seen. That is if she will let me…"(because you always ask permission, Porky, no matter what Sam says).Porky, you said that the girl you said the porking your box line to is a friend of a friend. This means she is not your friend. Why are you so worried? If I were you (and I'm not) I would be terrified of being all alone at the next 'traditional campout' In fact, I would be terrified of being 35 years old and still listening to what Sam is telling me. You go to the next dance that they hold in your cafeteria. Meet a nice girl and marry her. But remember, if you take her camping and end up having sex with her, you will get killed by a masked killed. Whose name is probably Sam. Enjoy those Hot dogs, kiddo! Oh, and just apologize for being a creepy weirdo to the girl under the food tarp. You should have made out with her instead of being a knob. Stay Awesome, porky! Your Son of Sam, Yes Andy!

We have now reached ten people.

We made it to ten. This is amazing! I wonder what the future holds?
-Y.A.!

Saturday, December 02, 2006

A soapy lather... Current mood:Getting ready for a shower... Citizens of the planet, Looks like the word is spreading, and for that, I thank you. Answering your questions is like a really good cup of coffee right when you wake up in the morning. You know, when you actually take the time to prep the machine the night before, then program it to start brewing just as your alarm is going off? You make me feel like dancing, so I am the whiskey in the barrel around the neck of your St. Bernard. Also, I am drinking whiskey, so I am in essence- Drinking myself. Have a sip, won't you?This one comes from a woman named Brady. She's been burned. Enjoy! Dear YES, ANDY! I have had a problem with having a lot of razor burn under my arms and in other areas and I don't know how to get my skin to get used to it. Is there a way to shave without getting razor burn or anything that may help get rid of it? Thanks, Brady Dear Brady, Hell if I know, but if I were a guy who uses razors (which I am), I'd give my delicate skin a stern talking to. Using, of course, my razor sharp wit…Here are some things you can do to make your smooth parts smoother and your hairy parts not so hairy. Strap yourself in. 1) Use a super sharp razor every time you shave. Sometimes, you cannot find humor in shaving. Sorry. 2) I am a big fan of using lots of shaving cream or gel. In fact, if you think you have just enough, use more. Use a lot more. Use so much shaving cream that it looks like your armpits or whatever you are shaving has rabies. Want a fun idea to pass the time while you are in the shower? Cover your entire body in shaving cream. Pretend that you are a cake person, and your skin is actually made of icing. Fight the urge to lick yourself, as it is not really icing, and you are not in fact made of cake. 3) Speaking of things to do in the shower when you are bored, invite someone you find attractive over to shower with you. Have sex in the shower. You can also incorporate the 'cake person' scenario with them. You will probably have a lot of fun role playing, as the person you invited over could play the part of the "Naughty Baker" and the only way they can get 'clean' is by fucking a cake person…I don't know, I'm just throwing out ideas. 4) Try using hair conditioner as a shaving lubricant. It makes your skin soft, and might help reduce the burn. Again, I feel you have options. Funny or not. 5) Stop shaving altogether. There are people who are into that. Yes Andy! Isn't one of them, but I'm not the only fish in the sea. I'm just the only one who matters. Brady, I think you need to change up the brands you use for shaving supplies. But more importantly, you need to change your attitude. Have a positive outlook on things before you bet into the shower. You might find that your subconscious is making you shave a bit too hard or maybe too fast. Slow and steady wins the race, Brady. Relax a bit. Have a glass of wine, lather up and do it nice and slow. Take pictures to help you feel sexy. Or invite someone over and do a photo shoot. Yeah. That's the best advice. Do that. I'm glad I chose to help you, Brady. And I am looking forward to those pictures. Remember, change your shaving lubricant to a shaving lubri-can. Stay Awesome, Brady! Your Naughty Baker, Yes Andy!

Ninth old advice bit.

The ninth installment. From back in the day.

-Y.A.!

Tuesday, November 28, 2006

It's pronounced: Pen-oose. It's french... Current mood:Keeping mine in my pants... Hey Panda Bears, The people demand my wisdom, and much like city hall, you can't fight it. I am your public servant, and you are my masters. Whip me, beat me, and write me bad checks. You know the old saying. Anyway, this one comes from a bird that calls herself 'Poked and hating it'. Looks like my work is cut out for me on this one… As always, you ask, I answer. Ours is a forbidden love. But I will always call you in the AM. Welcome to your newest Yes Andy! Thing: Dear Yes Andy, I am in a play and have to simulate sex on stage, the man I must do this with has been poking me with his little soldier who is always at attention and it is making me very uncomfortable, what do I do? Signed, 'Poked and hating it' Dear Poked, Hell if I know, but if I were an actor (which I am), I would be worrying about how good I look in the sex scene. I am certain that all the women that write to Yes Andy! Are hot bits of lady. So I'm sure you don't have that problem. I tend to attract the attractive, you know? Much like Jesus did way back when. And like the Jesus, it is my cross to bear. Enough about me. You have a penis-poking problem. Have you ever read the bible or gone to Catholic School? Well, I know people who have done both. These people have told me that acting is evil and goes against God. I'm not sure where I'm going with that, but I have space to fill and you still have a penis-poking problem. Anyways, I think they might have been Baptists. Here are some things that you could try to get this guy's attention without making it all about the penis…poking problem… I don't think that will stop being funny to me. Enjoy! 1) If you are still in rehearsals for this production, you have many options. This is the first one: Be upfront about it to him. Don't beat around the bush (no pun intended). Tell him that he needs to masturbate before each performance so he doesn't get aroused during the scene. He's a fucking actor, he shouldn't be so method. Tell him to do this at home before he gets to the theatre. No one needs to see that in the green room. 2) During the sex scene, grab a mouse trap that you have secretly placed within arms reach. When the offensive little member hits you, let the trap spring into action. He will never get an erection around you or any woman again. 3) If mutilation isn't your bag, fuck with his head. You are a theatre chick, right? Right. Well get creative. Go to the kitchen and whip up a batch of fake blood. Place the fake blood in a zip lock bag and put it in your underpants. Then, when he begins the Penis poking problem..heh... you open up the bag and let loose the floodgates. Start screaming like he stabbed you and cry out "I was a virgin!" this will make other people laugh and make him lose his erection in a very speedy manner. Talk this over with your stage manager, so they can have some cleaning supplies at the ready. 4) That last one was kind of gross. If you are touchy about being called 'bloody mary' for the rest of the run of the show, you can try this: when his problematic penis starts poking you, stop the scene and punch him in the face. Call him a pervert and then cut off his dick. You may go to jail for a while, but you will get a lot of press and become the subject of a trivial pursuit question. 5) Tell him offstage just before the scene that you are really into him, and that you wish it were real. Also mention that you want to call him Cheryl. Tell him that it is your father's middle name and that you like it kinky and really fucking weird. I gave similar advice to a plant just yesterday. During the scene, whisper that you'd like to see him in a pretty dress with flowers on it, and use the name Cheryl before every sentence. 'Cheryl, I think that the war in Iraq is wrong' 'Cheryl, I think I forgot to turn off the TV before I left for rehearsal' 'Cheryl, I'm pregnant with your little Cheryl babies. We should call each of them Cheryl, Cheryl.' When he thinks you are sufficiently fucked up in the head, he will lose his wood, because sex with a crazy girl isn't worth it. I'm just kidding, of course it is. Poked, I think you need to take a few minutes and try to put yourself in his shoes. After all, he is just a man. Men are silly and think about sex a lot. And when you are acting like you are having sex, it's kind of like all the dry humping we all used to do in Junior High. You could talk to the director too, but I wouldn't make a big deal out of this. I really stand by my #5 suggestion. I know that you have been helped. And I will sleep better tonight with the thought that I have solved your penis poking problem. Damn. You're screwed. Just kidding! Cut his dick off! Stay Awesome, Poked! Your most valued member, Yes Andy!

Eight, Eight, The burning Eight.

The fact that eight people had need of advice is astounding enough.

And the fact that I have more help to give is proof that there are gods out there who love us. Because they made me.

-Y.A.!

Tuesday, November 28, 2006

Putting the green in...Something green. Current mood:Digging life's garden. It's a little wild and a little strange…When you make your home out on the range… Hey Dude(s)! The train keeps on rolling down the track with this little ditty from the swinging streets of Uptown. It seems the world's most eligible foliage needs some guidance. And guidance he shall receive. IN ABUNDANCE.Enjoy. The names have not been changed due to the fact that it is a plant. Keep it coming, folks. I'm here for you. Dear Yes, Andy!, I have a problem that I hope you can help me with: I slept with a girl the other night and now she wants to be my girlfriend. But I can't be havin' a girlfriend, man. I'm motherfuckin' Steven Seagal, the swinginest Spathiphyllum in all of Uptown. I don't want no girl following me around and shit. What do I do? sincerely, "Peeved and Leaved" Dear 'Peeved and Leaved', Hell if I know, but if I were a botanist (which I am), I would sit you on my knee and give you an emotional pruning that you won't soon forget. So. You are a plant. Named Steven Seagal. Ok. I can work with that. And by the looks of things, so can all the ladies in fucked up sexual perversion land.If I live to be a 100, I won't be able to work out the logistics of how a plant can type; know its own genus name; sleep with girls and not know how to let her down easy. Thank the Norse Gods I am here at 2 in the AM drinking coffee and thinking how to help out. Here are some things you can do to make her think you are not 'all that' and that she needs to move on and work on her people skills. 1) Though your name is Steven Seagal, she might think that you are the actual Steven Seagal: Highly acclaimed movie star and martial arts enthusiast. Take a trip to the local Bollywood video and pick up 'Under Siege 2' Invite her over, and make her watch it. That alone will make her run for the hills, because you will tell her that it is your favourite movie. Everyone will laugh, including the studio audience, because we all know that 'Hard to Kill' was the fucking bomb. 2) Tell her that you have some form of plant herpes or cholera. 3) Pee with the door open. Most women do not like this, and it makes them think you are a savage beast. If this does not work, you should sneak into the bathroom after she uses it and put the toilet seat up. Every time. And then scream at her. She will get confused and after a while she will think it is her fault. Then you sit her down and tell her you are not into chicks that pee standing up. 4) Insist on calling her Cheryl. Tell her it was your Mother's middle name and it makes you really horny. Also, start calling every woman you meet when you are around this girl Cheryl too. After a while, start sighing loudly after you say the name. In fact, after a few days, start calling guys Cheryl. Then start barking or something. 5) Tell her that your sun rises and sets with her, but that you are super scared of the sun, because it is a giant ball of fire that threatens to consume your world. If she is nice at all, she will not want to scare you anymore. Being scary is no good in relationships. Steven, I know this may be hard for you to accept, but everyone has a shelf life. You might want to consider settling down and starting a family. I'm kidding, Steve! You are a plant! That's just silly. Everyone knows that plants are nature's whores. Plants are sexual predators, and you are just doing what your DNA tells you. I do suggest that you use protection and go to the clinic every six months. I am so glad I could help you, Steven. Remember: You are not just a plant, you are THE plant. Stay Awesome, Steven! Your fertilizer of the soul, Yes Andy!

Seven. The Seventh old advice. Just after six.

MMMM!

I cannot get enough questions, apparently.

It's a good thing I had the wherewithall to help all these folks. I hope they still think of me from time to time.

-Y.A.!

Saturday, November 25, 2006

Self absorbed poppycock! Current mood:Right on. Goodevening Masters & Mistresses. I'm a bit backed up in questions, but I will try to tackle them all by the end of this weekend. Bear with me, Yes Andy! is but one man, and no man is an island. This one comes from Poolie. She asked a simple one, which I am going to answer to prove that you don't have to send me deep thoughts, nor do they have to be funny. I'll be funny enough for the both of us. Keep on asking! Dear Yes, Andy!, Since you are a betting man...I'm curious... what are my chances? Dear Poolie, Hell if I know. In fact, I really don't know. Are you fucking with me? I could take this a million different ways, but I always come back to something sexy. They say that men think of sex every 20 or so seconds, I think this is silly, because there are times when I am in a room full of Nuns. It doesn't happen often, but I assure you, it has. And the last thing I was thinking about was doing the freak nasty with a room full of Jesus Penguins. What are your chances? I mean, with me? Pretty damn good if you keep stumping me with this gypsy mind fuck stuff. I think I am blushing. I know I am blushing. I'm a shitty typist and even worse when it comes to grammatical correctness, and you make me go all sdfgoiuhlsrngisngij, sdhgsrihgsr, djfeiodididididi, dhfoidfgdsgfsdgfh: djgfisdifgsdgus&(*&(^%UJ! Did you see how many fucking commas I used in that last phrase? YOU VEX ME, WOMAN! But seriously, Poolie, everyone knows that I am a betting man. I make foolish and rash bets on most things. I never thought the internet would become as big as it did. I never imagined that that kid from 8th grade would be so fragile and actually break a bone. I didn't see American Idol becoming so popular. If I were a handy man, which I am, I would build a love shack where the two of us could meet and drink martinis and eat chocolate off of each others stomachs. But I feel this way for all of my fans, and I am sure a hot little ticket like yourself has been claimed by a man much more virile than myself. In the interest of science and continuity, I give you five things you can do to up your chances with Yes Andy! 1) Being a carbon based bi-ped of the female persuasion helps. You are well on your way to earning a wink and a smile from yours truly. 2) Believe that the only way to approach any kind of project is with massive amounts of passion. Yes Andy! is a very passionate fellow with interests that span the stars. I have never tried shuffleboard or made chocolate eclairs. I feel that anyone who could teach me how to do either is the future Mrs. Yes! Also, Chocolate eclairs are delicious and probably the best thing ever put on the earth to make us, as humans, happy. 3) Don't be racist. Racism is fucking lame. 4) Out drink me. While this is a frivolous activity, I appreciate a woman who can hold her drink. I like Jameson Irish Whiskey, and sample from its supple teat more than anyone should. This is not a good thing, but I don't want you to think that Yes Andy! is in any way shape or form a 'perfect man'. A perfect man does not exist anywhere in the universe. I will anger and dissapoint you, Poolie. Find me anyone who does not have baggage of anykind, and I will give them some of mine, as they are samsonite and of high quality. 5) Swear like a sailor and like kissing. Above all things, these are the ties that bind any brightly shining star to a path along the burning hunk of sweetness that is Yes Andy! In all honestly, Poolie, I didn't know what you meant by your question. I could be way off base, but when you are as confident as I am, you have to assume the best. You threw me for a loop, Poolie. Not many can do that. It might be the cocktail I have been enjoying, or it might be the ding dong of the doorbell of destiny... Who knows? Yes Andy! doesn't like to talk about himself, but this is how I chose to answer your question. I wish you sweet dreams and handcuffs on the bedpost. Stay Awesome, Poolie! Your all you can eat buffet of passion (sans tapeworms), Yes Andy!

Old number six.

Sometimes I am in awe of how much the world needs me. If I have a child, I hope it is with every single one of you, so none of you have to worry anymore.

What?!

I know...

-Y.A.!

Wednesday, November 22, 2006

I'll get you He-man! Said Ment-or... Current mood:Bubbling over with pop culture.. Hello again, faithful flock of seagulls. Lancy needs some help, and I am all about helping today. And everyday. Keep it coming, I don't go out of the house except to drink and chew bubblegum. (my social life is lacking, you see...) Dearest Yes Andy! I am currently living in Thesis Hell. My mentor has been unclear with me from the start as to what she wanted, then last weekend decided she needed more specifics, after telling me in the beginning of the semester that this was just supposed to be "a game plan" no designing necessary yet. *coughs out the word bullshit* I have pulled the proverbial rabbit from the hat and given her the specifics she wants. After sending her an email pretty much saying, WTF, I'm not prepared for this, you didn't tell me this shit months ago, that is. But I digress, my current problem is that now, everytime I send her a new draft with her LAST edits and requests, she has MORE FREAKING EDITS. I am a good writer according to all of my past professors. She just keeps changing her mind about the way that SHE wants things. I have decided to do ONE more round of edits today and that is it. I don't get a grade on this really and it's not like they ever say, "no you can't do this project, your prospectus sucks!" It was originally due today, but after realizing that she'd been unclear with me, she gave me the option of an extension into January, now she tells me that I don't have to have it in until Monday. I would like to finish this so that I can enjoy the holiday, but I know if I email it to her she will send it back with more edits. If I don't email her til Sunday she will know I am avoiding sending it to her. How do I handle this? I can always mail it to her tonight and say, "This is my Final Answer, Regis," but that seems kinda rude. Help, me Andy-wan Kenobi! You're my only hope! Dear Lancy, Hell if I know, but if I were your mentor, I'd try to remember that no matter what, there will always be re-writes and edits. And what is a mentor? To me, a mentor is someone who gently guides you along the path you yourself have chosen. They believe in you no matter what, and know that you have the chops to make it. They also probably have been in the same position you are in now, and are in a place where you want to be in the future. However your Mentor sounds more like a 'Ment-Or'. A Ment-Or is one of Skeletor's minions and tries to defeat He-Man at every turn. Ment-or isn't someone you need around. Not when you have the power of GraySkull when it comes to writing. Trust your instincts, Lancy, they are all you have in your quest to defeat evil. SInce Yes Andy! doesn't believe in guns, you must learn to use your brain to conquer your new nemesis. Ment-Or should have some turkey tomorrow. Invite her over and slip some Whiskey in her nog or whatever you southern ladies drink during turkey day. (Mint Juleps?) Tell her she needs to loosen up and let the little bird fly solo. You know you are a good writer. She probably knows this too. Hell, I wish I had you leaning over my shoulder to correct all the spelling and grammatical errors I commit in any given blog. Here are 5 ways to break it to her that you are mad as hell and not going o take it anymore: 1) If she isn't available for Thanksgiving dinner, and/or you don't wish to subject your family to her nagging about "just a few more thoughts" about your paper over the pumpkin pie, try sending her the finished product on Friday nght. If she is like most people, she will be too tired from shopping to worry about it. How was that for a comma splice? See, I need you spell/grammar check. I need you bad... 2) Do you know where she lives? If not, tell her that I do. This should frighten her into cutting you a little slack. Also, let her know that if she doesn't back off a little, I will end her. 3) Instead of calling her 'Mentor', call her 'De-Mentor'. Heh. See? It's like she is that thing from Harry Potter that sucks your head and makes you sad. No one wants to be one of those. They are scary, and that insult would make her cool again. 4) Play a game with her. Invite her over for a meeting. Tell her that you are meeting her at a coffeeshop. Provided she doesn't know where she lives, give her directions to your house. when she asks why this coffeeshop has pictures of you lying around and looks like someone's house, bonk her on the head and then while she is passed out take her to a REAL coffeeshop. She will be confused and scared (because you pretend like nothing is wrong). Ok, now right before she wakes up, you get her her favourite coffeedrink and you get one for yourself too. Drink about half of hers and get yours in a to go cup. She will ask 'What happened' you just tell her 'thank you so much for finishing up the editing. I think it's perfect too. Just like you said before you dozed off.' Get up and leave. This is probably your best bet, but there is still number 5. 5) Go to a karaoke bar and sing with her. Get her super drunk and tell her that her voice is just like Stevie Nicks. She should sing 'landslide'. As the lyrics make her re-think her life, she will probably realize that she was really harsh on your thesis. And that she needs to call her family and re-build bridges that were burned years ago. Your thesis will be the least of her worries. She has to go and find herself... Lancy, you are a good writer. I'm a betting man, as we all know, so I put all of my wooden nickels on your thesis being just right. As it is, right this minute. Don't change a thing. You need to go to a store on friday when the sales are super good, and buy yourself something nice. Something that makes you feel sexy. I find that buying a new shirt makes me feel like I can do anything, like stand up to some Mentor bully who eats crap for breakfast. You have a great Thanksgiving, and be thankful that I am here for you anytime you need it. Send the Thesis on Sunday. You work too hard and need a foot rub. Also, Sweet potato's are fucking great, am I right?! NO MORE EDITS! I'LL SEE YOU IN HELL FIRST! Stay Awesome, Lancy! Yes Andy!

This stuff is good. I should have written a book.

Remember, these are old advice. I've been gone a while.

-Y.A.!

Wednesday, November 22, 2006

I'll inspire you. I'll inspire you right to the moon. Current mood:A little sniffle. A sniffle of badass! Hello citizens of FunkyTown, Boy howdy! Ask and you shall recieve, huh?! I wanted questions, and you gave them to me in abundance! It might take me a day or two to answer everything, as it is a holiday and I have to get my sweet potato groove on. You can dig it. This next one comes from Parker. Enjoy, and keep spreading the word! Dear Yes Andy! My name is Parker. I've seen you around. Anyway, my question has to do with my life. Currently, I'm involved in a go nowhere job that I'm only working because of the "security" in a steady-paycheck and the benefits – which are nice – but the job is truly pointless. In fact, I'm writing to you as I am at my desk at work – "working." I understand the significance of the job in my life, as I'm hoping to go to school on this company's dollar – but I'm nearly the end of my proverbial rope… I said I've seen you around. I saw that you directed, wrote, starred-in, produced, designed, and sang-in JAWS: The Musical. Not to mention marketing the show to make it a success each year… Anyway, my question is: how did you do it all? Where did you find the energy and drive and ability to sidestep the naysayers (even if they were only in your own head)? How did you get your work out there? How do you continue to get your work out there to grow as an artist in your community? Please tell me how you do it. I want to do it too. I feel I have tons of stories and I'm worried if I don't get them out of my head, I'll regret it for the rest of my days. Should I go to Iraq? Waiting for your Wisdom, Parker Parker, Hell if I know, but I think that you have more power over your situation than you think. Yes Andy! once was at a job where they had me take staples out of documents so they could be scanned. I sat in a desk with a staple remover, a big stack of documents and another stack of separator sheets. I did this for 8 hours. Every day. Counting the clock ticks until I heard the alarm go off. It sucked. I started putting all of my pulled staples into some empty starbucks cups. I filled two of them in the last three weeks of that job. My goal was to keep all of the staples and make a sculpture with them. The sculpture would be a monument to the people who endure all the shit to do what they love and also to help me stave off madness. I also took a lot of smoke breaks. Everybody is working a job or has worked a job that drains thier soul and makes them softly weep so the person in the cube next to them doesnt hear. You feel like you have sold out, right? Fuck that, Parker. You haven't sold out. You are playing them like a fiddle in the Smokie Mountains. You use the internet at work to get advice from some guy who is unemployed! I wish I had your gig. You have it great! You have financial stability, even though it may seem rocky at times. Here's what I think you should do: 1) Instead of using the internet, how about use your down time to plan your next move. Steal a notebook from the supply closet and maybe a box of super nice pens that offices usually have. I like those gel ones with the thick black ink. Those work so nice... Make a list of all the things you want to do. Things you want to perform. People you want to work with. Got that list going? Move on to #2. 2) See that list you made of people you want to work with? Chances are, they are is an office right now, surfing the net, waiting for something interesting to happen. They hate the office life too. They are riding a filament that's about to break too. Maybe it's the guy in the desk next to you? Who knows? I know it won't be you Parker, unless you ask. You develop an army of people you trust to share your fellings, thought and dreams with. THis Army will continue to grow and become stronger and filled with all sorts of people who can help you attain any goal you want. Everyone has talents, Parker. Even frat boys. And I have little good to say about frat boys. Surround yourself with people who will inspire you. I call people on my list my KISS ARMY. You can call yours that too if you like. I didn't make it up. 3) You go to school on your company's dime. Do it. What are you waiting for? The biggest obstacle for anyone who wants to do things that are creative is that they tend to make excuses for everything. I know I'm guilty. All people are. If they try to lie to you and say they are not, they are a jerk and you should slap them. Or get them the hell off of your kiss army list. No excuses. Like that song says: 'Sha Na Na Na Na Na Live for Today...' There is more to that song, but I forget... 4) Open mic nights. These are designed to help you test out stuff that you have done so far. Usually held at a bar, or coffee shop. There are people who will laugh at this idea because it has been labeled as something comical from movies or TV. Not the case. People will only make fun of you because they dont have the balls to go out and try it themselves. You have the balls, Parker. They are made of steel. 5) You said you have stories. Let's see them. What's this?! The internet has places to put these stories so people can read them? !!! Stop poking the internet with a curiosity stick and use it as the tool it is! Everybody and his brother is on myspace. Make up some new profile. Devote it to your writings. If Yes Andy! can do it, I know for a gods honest that you can too. Parker, You have to understand that part of #3 in your five things is super true. (And I can't ge tthat song out of my head.) Excuses are what is going to keep you from doing what you want. The day job is just to pay the bills. You get healthcare from these people, keep them happy so you can do the things you want after work. Take the staples out of the paper. Write lists. Just write daily! This is a good start. If you have friends you can rely on to cheer you on, or if you are lucky enough to know the affection of a good woman(or man) you have everything you need to step outside and let the world know you mean business. I honestly don't think you need my help or advice. I make mistakes daily. We all do. I'm just hoping I put a smile of a couple of faces. Then I know I'll have done good work today. Now if only I could get paid for this shit... But I can't. I have to get an office job too. It's a necessary evil. And we all make up this life stuff as we go along. So you make up stuff as you go along too. Your job allows time for it if you can sit at your computer and read whatever cryptic nonsense I write. Now you have the power and confidence to do what you want. Go! Write! Now! If not now, maybe later after you eat all the doughnuts in the break room. Damn. Doughnuts are good. I like the ones with custard inside. As for JAWS The Musical, and you having seen me around, I think you are referring to my twin brother, Andy Brynildson. (I don't go out much) He has a myspace page too. And he is on my friends list. He doesn't give out advice like I do, but I know he follows what I say to the fucking letter. I'll let him know that you said nice things about his work. He just does what i tell him to do and understands that life is all about choices. Saying yes to one thing and no to another. You make choices too, Parker. I'm sure they will be pretty good ones. Also, isn't it odd that my mom named us both Andy? I should ask her why sometime. While I'm thinking of it, don't go to Iraq. There is a war going on there. Go to London or Amsterdam. They have great doughnuts. Stay Awesome, Parker! Your friend at the end of the bar, Yes Andy!

Another one?! Heck yes!

I'm gonna stop writing stuff before these older posts. I'm getting a cramp, and I want to make a drink.

Hope you are liking them, though. Newer stuff to come!

-Y.A.!

Tuesday, November 21, 2006

Are you testing me? Well, I pass! Current mood:Over the Moon. Dearest Ones, I am still here, but the messages have been drying up the last couple of days. Remember to gently suggest that your friends come and ask me things. I will hug them with words, kiss them with wisdom and make them pregnant with insight. I am your brother from another mother. Trust me, I'm yours. Here is tonight's messageFrom a girl named Minnie: Dear Yes Andy! I am supposed to be studying for a really big, really important test right now, my future kinda sorta depends on this test. The problem is I have the attention span of a 2 year old. Instead of studying I am mindlessly surfing the 'net and reading blogs. Any advice on how to focus and get back to studying --instead of reading the YES, ANDY! blog? ;) Holla, Minnie. Hell if I know, but I think reading this blog is the least of your worries. I try not to put all my eggs in a basket and then ride a roller coaster that is called "MY OWN PERSONAL ARMAGEDDON COMES IN THE FORM OF A TEST". You seem to have already bought your ticket for the theme park of the damned, so I'll help you. Probably because you are so flippin' cute, and I am a sucker for Betty Davis eyes... Or so I assume. Yes Andy! doesn't kiss and tell. Unless you ask me a question about how I kiss. But this is for another night. So a big test, huh? I think we can all agree that they are a big honkin' drag. A wiser person than myself once said that 'Education is EVERYTHING". So I applaud your moxie for taking a quiz that determines the fate of how much you are smiling the next day. And for days to come. Like I said, I'm a betting man. In casinos, I will always lose, but in life, I am a rich man. You are not alone in having the attention span of a 2 year old, Minnie. I just saw something shiney and followed it around my house for an hour before I started this next sentence. I think coffee helps. Coffee at all hours of the day. My flatmate (to use a british term) thinks I am crazy to be brewing a pot of dark roast at 9pm. I think he is crazy to not join in. I have fun. And I'll pass any test they throw at me if the subject is being awesome. Damnit. You had something you needed answered.... Test... Important... Advice... Yes, Andy! thinks you should sit down with your books whenever you get a free minute. However, don't cram for long hours, Minnie. That will make you really stupid, and you will forget everything you have read. Your five things are as follows: 1) 10 minute bursts. This is key. Keep telling yourself "10 Minute Bursts" What I mean is, sit down and read your matrial for 10 clicks. then take a break. Smoke a smoke, watch some youTube, read a blog. Distract yourself for a few minutes. Then go back and read some more. You will find that you retain more and you don't notice the time fly by. You might also start seeing some funny things on the internet. Like those bunnies that do movies in 30 seconds. That shit is great. Check out angryalien.com and laugh for a bit. 2) You are a smart girl, so grab the nearest male friend you have (or a lady friend with strong fingers) and get a backrub. You probably are super tense if this test means so much to your future. You need to get the knots out. They contain little demons that eat brain matter when you sleep. I have tried to exorcise these minions of satan using the necronomicon, but villiages of the damned aside, back rubs work wonders. 3) Flash cards. Make them. A lot of them. Only sneak in some cards that are really simple. Like what the spanish word for water is. Everyone knows it's "WAAA-WAAAA" Helen Keller taught us so much. When you get the super easy ones right, you will feel more confident. Feeling confident is cool. 4) Throw darts at pictures of people who are successful, but did not have to work hard at being so. You don't see them taking a test that makes demon stress knots in thier backs. No, you throw those sharp pointy things at Paris Hilton, and with every hit, you visualize how much she cries at night when the drugs wear off, and imagine you can hear her cries at the loss of any kind of sparkle in her eye that once resembled a future. You have more verve in your pinky finger than she has dollars in the trust fund. 5) Every morning before your test, eat a really good breakfast. I'm talking balanced, sweetie. No one really does this. Not even in the commeercials. People are in it for the frosting on the pop tart or the marshmallows in the Haagen Daaz. SO you eat a balanced break of the fast, and you grow big and strong like the amazon queen you are inside. Because Amazons are super hot. And the day before your test, you skip the most important meal. Ok? Stay with me... See, you are tricking your body and brain into thinking you don't care anymore. Your body will be like "what the fuck? I want my OJ." and your brain will be all "What the fuck? I want some OJ too" But the day of your test, you eat the balanced B-fast, and right on cue, your brain and body will be like Popeye on spinach laced with moon crack. And Moon crack is better because it's from the moon. Then you will do great on your test. So when it boils right down to it, Minnie, you aren't taking the test. The test is taking you. Taking you on a road to the biggest future you could imagine. Just think of the really great grade or number you think you are capable of getting on your worst day. Got it? Ok. Now I need you to take that score, divide it by half. After than, multipy by 20. Then add 5. Ok, now divide it by 4. Awesome. Now I need you to realize that what I am trying to do is distract you from freaking out, because you have nothing to worry about. Your brain is powerful. I can feel it working from here. All you need to do is make sure you look in the mirror everyday and say "FUCK YEAH!" and then point at your reflection and wink. It is better than any balanced breakfast. Except for the marshmallows... Stay Awesome, Minnie! You get an 'A' for the future! Yours in blood, Yes Andy!

Old advice number three

Whoo!

I should try an be less long winded, but it's just how they wired me at the factory, you know?

Keep reading, and hopefully you are thinking of questions you know I can help you with.

-Y.A.!

Friday, November 17, 2006

Raging on the road to vengeance. Current mood:Flippin' sweet. Hello, my apple dumpling gang. This message comes from a girl named Benny. I changed her name to avoid litigation, in case she does what I tell her to do. I am an idea man. You choose the follow through. I have to note that the first two questions in this site were from females. I have to say that I am shocked, delighted, and still single. I did think that my first questions would be from guys, because they fuck up thier lives so easily and often. And so I bring you help number two... Dear, YES ANDY! I have road rage and some days its worse than others. Everytime someone forgets to use their turn signal, All I can think about is running them off the road, snapping off the turn signal bar and beating them with it. I am normally a peace loving, live and let live kinda gal. But it's as if I am possessed when behind the wheel. What kinda of things could I think about or do while driving that could maybe relax me? You know, other than smoking, yelling and flipping people off. I am longing for and missing that "Sunday Drive" feel. Dear Benny, Hell if I know, but so far, I like your attitude. Attitude will get you places in this messed up world we live in. It will also get you 10 to life in a federal pen if you do what your first instinct is when drivers piss you off. Rule number one, and this is before they teach you the ABC's or how to share coloured plastic toys: People are big fuck off jerks when they get behind the wheel of a horseless buggy. If I were driving, and some jerk hole flipped the wrong switch, I'd pull a knife on them and cut thier belly. But I am not driving. You are. And since you don't have a knife on you like Yes, Andy! does, I will give you five ways to calm your shit down. Enjoy. 1) The calming effect of Pot is one that I endorse. In fact, when I smoke the reefer, I get sleepy and forget to drive anywhere. Or I start watching a movie, which you cannot do while driving anyway. Unless you are in one of those SUV's with the lcd displays in the seats. In which case you are part of the problem, and should be pulled over, not for smoking pot or watching a movie, but for being an asshole with lcd screens in your car. Donate money to charity, you dick. Pot is, and always will be natures way of saying: 'Dude, take a break. Eat a twinkie. You deserve it' Now, what was I saying? Oh yeah. Number 2. 2) Try counting to 300,000. While this is not an impossible task, you will find that is is mentally taxing and you end up angrier than you would be if the old lady in front of you is doing 35 in a 65 zone. This allows you to put things into perspective, and you end up happier somehow. 3) Own at least one album by the following bands, and keep them in your glove box to play at a moments notice. Queen, The Beach Boys, Aerosmith, Negativeland, The Rolling Stones. These albums have things called 'songs' on them. Songs are meant to be sung along to, and singing makes you happy. Even if you suck at it. 4) Red rope licorice isn't just a good idea on paper. It is a fucking awesome idea in your tummy. There is not one thing that can piss you off on your morning or afternoon commute that red rope licorice cannot make better. That shit is fucking unbelievable. Garth from Wayne's World had his shit together. Also, listen to Bohemian Rhapsody while you are eating it. That movie is funny. 5) Drive naked. This may be hard at first, but once it becomes part of your routine, you will find that drive time is sexy time. And who doesn't like times that are sexy? Or Wayne's World? Seriously?! Benny, you can do other things too. Road bingo. Always a hit. Or you could only drive on Sundays. Then you would get that Sunday drive feel without any artificial flavour. Here in Minneapolis, we have a huge parkway system that takes like two hours to drive all the way around. Moving here is always an option, because the drivers don't look at you differently when you are driving naked. They don't even make eye contact with you, it isn't polite. I sure am glad I could help you and answer your question with detailed brilliance. Tell your other myspace friends that I'm here and that I helped you change your life for the better. Now go get naked and grab the keys! Stay Awesome, Benny! Your Dream Man, Yes, Andy!