Once again, it's time for Brendo's Utterly Unhelpful Advice Column. These are actual letters from actual people that arrived in Brendan's actual inbox in search of actual advice, which was an actual mistake on their parts. If you want to be included in the next advice column, hit Brendan at brendan@scamper.net. Don't be scared.

Dear Brendo,

Why is that most guys seem to miss the toilet when they pee? Where
they pee in their own houses is their business, but if I had a nickel
for every drop of piss I wiped from my guest bathroom, I'd hire a
maid!

Tired of Pee

Let me explain a little something to you about the male anatomy, TOP - there are really two kinds of wankers: "show-ers" and "grow-ers." Basically, a show-er has more slack on his hose, so has more of an ability to aim accurately. These guys are not your problem. The grow-ers, on the other hand, are struggling with an awkward angle, especially if they have enormous balls like Mike Mirabella. Hence, misfires happen. It doesn't make them bad human beings (not that I'm one of those guys or anything. I avoided these problems two years ago when I donated my ding-a-dong to Christian science).

So why don't these aim-challenged fellas clean up after themselves? Because, in the words of Mahatma Gandhi, "That's what bitches are for."

Dear Brendan,

I'm hungry. Can you bring me food?

Famished in Framingham

Sure, I'll be right over and fix you up something. Be warned - I cook with no pants.

Brendan,

Deseo hacer furtivamente en los Estados Unidos. No tengo ningún dinero
sino pagaré en cualquier manera que pueda. Gracias.

-Hombre Atractivo
Los Cabos, Mexico


I... I don't speak Spanish.

Brendan,

I'm depressed. I am the unwilling doormat of my circle of friends.
I'm always the butt of jokes, and I constantly get picked on for just
being me. It's making me self-conscious and unsocial. When my
friends hang out with me and my relatives, my family starts chiming in
with the barbs and doesn't defend me at all. I've tried to act
differently and I've tried to laugh along with the jokes, but nothing
makes it hurt less.

-Resigned, Unhappy
Haverhill, MA

This letter reminds me of a story - back in my unhealthy eating days, I was enjoying lunch at Burger King when I heard the sound of giggling in a corner booth. When I looked up from my delicious juicy Whopper, I saw a group of about ten 13-year old girls making fun of a loser-ish 13-year old boy sitting by himself across the dining room. He was trying to ignore them and eat his burger, but I could tell from his face that every cruel word they said cut him to the bone.

My heart ached for this kid. I wanted to help him so badly. I wanted to walk over to him and whisper, "Trust me - if you don't stand up for yourself in this moment, you will feel weak and small for the rest of your life." But I didn't. Instead, I just finished up my tasty Whopper and walked out, feeling that the world was a horrible, unfair place.

But just before I walked out the door, something wonderful happened. The kid looked up at the group of girls, stared at them for a moment and launched his shake in their direction. The shake soared through the air in a glorious arc and exploded on the table in front of them, spraying chocolate all over the little shrews-in-training. They screamed and jumped up in horror. The kid just smiled. And I smiled right along with him. It was absolutely glorious.

What does that have to do with you, RU? Your family and friends need a proverbial shake thrown at them. The only reason that they continue to pick on you is because a) it's funny and b) you take it like a little puss. I think a completely insane overreaction is in order here. Next time they make fun of you, scream like Sam Kinison and smash their favorite antique flugal horn against the wall. Steal their keys and wrap their car around a clown statue at a miniature golf course. Put their prescription medication in Jell-O. They'll think you're batshit insane, but at least they'll think twice before they fuck with you again.

Brendan,

How can I get the band that I share a rehearsal space with to clean up
and take out the friggin trash every once in a while?

-Keith Michel
Allston, MA

You can't. They're a real rock band, whereas you belong to a group of soft-shelled, non-hotel-destroying nancy boys. But don't worry - I'll buy you a Vitamin Water at your big show at the Middle East Upstairs on Friday. That'll make you feel better.