Dear Miss Behave,
My son always gets carsick on long rides. I give him all sorts of things to help but nothing works. This year, his father and the new wife, have decided to rent a camper and drive him all the way up to Acadia in Maine. His father doesn’t believe in medicine and I’m worried that my son is going to have a miserable time. His father has joint custody, so I can’t stop them from going, but I can’t help but worry that it’s going to be a miserable trip for my baby.
Your poor little apple blossom! My own, dearest, sister gets carsick on any ride longer than twenty minutes, so trust me, I understand.
If your ex doesn’t believe in the wonders of Dramamine, or whatever they use for carsick kids these days, then his shoes and new wife simply deserve to be puked upon.
Pour yourself a lovely glass of wine, put up your feet, and be sure to tell them to send lots of pictures!
Love and Margaritas,
Dear Miss Behave,
I think my boss is a white walker from Game of Thrones. No, seriously. He’s tall, he’s pale, and he brings pain and misery wherever he goes.
I sit at my cubicle doing my job and he paces the office, hands behind his back, shooting his ice-like stare at everyone as he winds through the workplace.
At least once a week, he stands at my desk and just glares at me. He doesn’t say anything, just stares. When I ask him if there is something that he needs, he doesn’t speak, just furrows those bushy white eyebrows of death, and looks like he’s going to spit at me before walking away.
When I write him emails asking what he thought during his observation of my work, he doesn’t answer. Because speaking, or writing, or communicating via anything other than his weekly, fake-happy emails to the entire staff is apparently too much to ask.
-Freezing at Work
I bet if you could white walk your way out of there, you would have by now, so I assume that option is off the table. This is a conundrum, cupcake!
Ignore him as best you can! There really is just no saving some people and their bad manners. Horrible is as horrible does, sweets..
Chances are that he will be rude to the wrong person and one day and find himself without a job. Karma, my lamb, will one day bite this beast on the bum.
Love and Karmic Possibilities,
Dear Miss Behave,
I met this bearded god, Matt, the other week and am completely in love. The only thing is that he lives in the country on a farm and I’m not so sure about farm life. I’m all about sunshine and the great outdoors, but a farm? Let’s not go crazy.
But he loves me and I love him and I don’t know what to do.
Dear City Girl,
The other week? That’s barely enough time to know where or not he uses that spray before he poops, pumpkin!
You really must get to know him a bit more before throwing aside the trappings of civilization and going all Green Acres.
But if, say, six months from now you are both still completely smitten, well, then, don’t let a little manure get in the way of true love.
Love and Whatever they Drink on Farms,
I am fourteen and got my first job: babysitting a four year-old, Stella, and an eight month-old, Brady. At first I thought it would be great, my mom helped me pick out books to bring to read to them and gave me lessons on how to change diapers. When I arrived, the kids were so cute and sweet, and then their parents left and everything came undone.
I tried to read to them, but Stella started screaming that she wanted to play with my phone and the baby started chewing on the book! I pried the book out of the massive, and strong, baby fists and then Stella went into the kitchen and threw an open bag of Cheerios at me!
Cheerios got everywhere! In my hair, in the carpet, in the baby’s slobber, down the heating vents and I had no idea what to do. I mean, who throws Cheerios, am I right?
I put the baby down, and told her to help me clean up, but she ran like a driver on Grand Theft Auto, grabbed my phone and locked herself in the closet, where she somehow managed to Snap with my best friend’s boyfriend using only emojis and posted like fifteen pictures of her eyeballs to my Instagram.
The baby was eating the cereal off the floor, but because he was so drooly, the cereal stuck to him and before I knew it, he was breaded like a little, chubby chicken nugget.
It took me four hours to give the baby a bath, clean the house, get Stella out of the closet, and get them both to sleep.
Now, my social life is totally ruined, but the parents thought I did a great job and want me to come back.
How do I tell them that their children are, no-joke, probably possessed by the devil and that they should call a priest, not a sitter?
Don’t call in that priest just yet, pumpkin!
The first thing you should do is to pour yourself a good stiff drink, in your case, coffee, sweetcheeks.
Anyway, my pet, I feel obligated to remind you that you, too, were once a child, and everything you just wrote me about, youwere probably guilty of doing to your parents.
Well, except for the Snapchatting with your best-friend’s boyfriend, that is exceptionallycheeky.
If caring for children is not for you, and you would like to earn some money, may I suggest getting a job at a local pet shelter? Cats, and yes, even dogs, love to snuggle, and rarely will they Snapchat or Instagram with anyone! Not to mention, a well-placed picture of some sweet, adoptable kittie is sure to get your social media life back on track.
As for the parents, tell them thank-you, but you simply mustread War and Peace for class (trust me, it’s long), and then give them your best friend’s number.
Love and Virgin Margaritas!