The Explanation... Okay, look. Bobbie Faye here. I owe people money for things I've sort of accidentally blown up and really, I can only work so many hours a day. The newspaper editor in my town said if I'd do an advice column, he'd let me work off some of the money I owe him from the time I kinda of accidentally ran over his car in that Hummer I sort of borrowed that time I was running from… well, anyway, he said I could work it off. He's the one who named this column. I get the itty bitty feeling he doesn't exactly trust me. Still, he's getting what he asked for, so he can't blame me. So here's the advice / rant. If you want to write me and ask advice for any problem, feel free. I'm not guaranteeing it'll be a great answer, but hell, who knows. I've got to be right at least once. Right? Email Bobbie Faye The Advice... Dear Bobbie Faye: I've been dating a guy (I'll call him 'Wally') for about a year and things seem to be really great. He's pretty nice to me, gives me nice things (lingerie! Any girl would love that, right? The best Wal-Mart had, on sale!) and we go out to great restaurants (I really love the special pancake stack at I-Hop and he knows exactly which syrup to pour!). The only thing is, Wally disappears at least two or three times a week. He says he's a doctor but that the hospital has a very strict policy against girlfriends visiting, so I'm not allowed to see him at work, and he never answers the phone when he's there; he only calls me back when I beep him. How can I show Wally that he can trust me to act professionally when meeting his co-workers? I've bought nice suits (Target had a gorgeous pink one on sale), I'm pretty good with talking to people. What else should I do? Signed, Wanting to impress Dear Wanting: First, Wally isn't a doctor. If Wally is even in the health field, he's selling crack or running guns and keeping the hospitals in clientele. Or, worse, he's married and splitting time and really, you need to buy a clue. Now, some people would tell you to break up with him and move on. I, however, would go to the friendly Radio Shack guy and get a GPS tracking thingie and you'll know if he's able to afford that nice car because he's done three hernia operations this week or if it's because he's selling the best speedballs around. Of course, on the really long shot chance that you track him to someplace like an actual hospital where it turns out that he's that really cute intern, (you know, the one with the spiky hair and the dark eyes? Yeah, that guy.)… and he's extremely overworked and they're understaffed and you show up to discover he's actually in the middle of an emergency and you're sneaking around the hospital hoping to see him without him seeing you, only you accidentally trip over a cart of urine samples in the hall and everything crashes and my God, smells to high heaven and nurses and doctors and interns come running and he sees you sitting there? Covered in pee? Yeah, well, that guy might have a few trust issues with ex-girlfriends who may or may not have been me, so good luck with that. And when he kicks you out of the hospital, whatever you do, do not take the first exit you see if there's a red alarm sound warning on the door. I'm just saying. sisters, knives in the back, same thing... Dear Bobbie Faye: I have this sister, see, who's a royal pain in the ass. But she's my sister and I'm supposed to like, be nice to her and honest and stuff, right? Except that every single day, she drives me straight up the wall with all of her griping and whining that I always get everything she wants. Which I do, 'cuz I'm a lot nicer to our parents, but we're in college and I need stuff. I know how to act, and that's not my fault that she totally blows up every five minutes. Anyway, I'm writing because my sister's boyfriend keeps hanging around and I really like him, and she treats him like crap anyway, so is it really all that wrong for me to make a play for him, you know, without telling her? Since she's such a bitch to him anyway? She can always find some other guy to torment, right? Signed, Frugal Dear Frugal: Oh, sure, go ahead. Why not? I mean, it's not like someone will ever catch you out with him and take some pictures that they'll then put up on the web and on the bulletin board down at the Pluck & Fry for everyone to see, including Amy Lou Johnson, who happens to have a cousin who works for the Jerry Springer show, and who will send in the photos (let me know when it airs) because really, how bad could it be to have your sister try to kill you on national TV? Sure, your employer will fire you and your family will quit speaking to you, but you'll ultimately win the grand prize of the sleaze-o-matic who was happy to boink one girl while dating her sister. What's not to love about that? I say, go for it. (And I want tickets to the show.) just do not do this... Dear Bobbie Faye: Last night a couple of my friends and I went for a girls' night out and we ended up in a sports bar where the guys were constantly trying to send over drinks. Seriously. Constantly. We kept turning them down because it wasn't fair to lead them on, you know, since we all have boyfriends, but they thought we were just playing hard-to-get, so they kept upping the ante. What should we have done? Signed, Totally Sober and Trying to Stay That Way Dear Total Idiot: Are you kidding me? Seriously, you sent all of the alcohol back? You can't possibly be southern, so I'm not sure how to answer this in a way that will compute. You go to a bar to drink. If you walk in the bar, especially a sports bar, you have a moral obligation to (a) drink and (b) flirt with the guys who are buying the drinks. It's a rule. Don't argue. Do you really want to see these guys spontaneously combust? This is one of the only ways most of them know how to even speak to a girl, and that one guy who did most of the sending? He's probably been saving up all year from his paper route so that he can look good in front of his friends and flirt with a pretty girl and there you go, shooting him down and he's going to keep trying until his head explodes or falls off. That's just mean. And makes a really big mess. (Only the designated driver can sip a watered down drink…and you do have to have a designated driver, otherwise, you could end up driving over to your ex's house accidentally and then yelling "Stella" outside his window just to see if he's there because you feel like annoying him, only you sort of fried so many brain cells that you forgot he was a cop and so you end up cuffed and spending the night on a hard jail bench where Collette (of indeterminate sex) decides that you are his/her new bestest friend in the whole fucking world and so he/she/it starts telling you all the sordid things that make your eyes pop out and roll on the floor and when he/she/it starts sobbing on you, your shirt becomes the Kleenex du jour.) (Not that I would know this from personal experience.) (Shut up.) so that's where the Grinch went... Dear Bobbie Faye: I gotta go Christmas shopping with my girlfriend, and I know we're gonna get into another fight this year, just like last year. I'd rather saw off my right arm than go with her to buy something for "us" but then, that would kinda hurt, so I go, but it's damn near as painful. This year, we agreed that we'd write to you and ask your advice. See, every freaking year, my girlfriend (we've been together six years now) wants to buy something for "us." Don't matter that I really gotta have a new set of ratchets and a hydraulic jack. She thinks we gotta buy something "together." I think she should just pick out something practical she needs, like a hair dryer or dishwasher or something. I'm not hurting for money—I just think it's dumb to go get something that ain't gonna have no use but to sit around and look pretty. I know you're a practical type—what do you think? Signed, Tired of the stupid holiday already Dear Stupid: Yeah, your girlfriend's being an idiot, wanting something nice that you two picked out. I don't know why in the hell you've stayed with someone so unreasonable for so long. Clearly, you should just give her the money for her to go find something she wants, whatever that is, and you go buy your tools. And for heaven's sake, tell her to leave you the hell alone about it when she brings whatever dumb thing she's bought home; you don't need to bother with all of that. After all, you gave her the money already, that was enough. But I'd suggest you buy tools that are a little too large to be inserted easily, because when you're single again after this Christmas, new potential girlfriends are going to be a little turned off by a ratchet shoved up your ass. got morals? Dear Bobbie Faye: I think my boss is stealing from the company. I really don't care—I just want to know how to use this to my best advantage? Signed, Trying to Get Ahead Dear Needs a Brain: There are these neat little inventions called "cameras." They even come on cell phones now. Some of them even record little movies. No decent self-respecting miscreant should be without this nifty little device. Get one. Stalk your boss. Every. Single. Minute. He'll start looking nervous and weird every time he sees you, which works to your advantage. Take photos of the nefarious deeds. Or photoshop some. If you're really trying to get ahead, you know it's the perception of guilt that's all that matters. Now, once you have this, you send an anonymous note to the boss asking for 50% of all his profits from the so-called nefarious deeds. If it turns out he isn't doing any, the photoshopped photos will come in handy. He really doesn't need all of that big retirement package. Call it the "sharesies" plan. Before you know it, you'll be rolling in the dough… Or maybe the handcuffs, because those FBI dudes kinda frown on extortion, but hey, it's a way to learn the ins and outs of the penal system and write that tell-all book and sell it. Of course, you can't profit directly from such a book, but there are probably loopholes around this. I'm sure in no time at all, you'll be the queen bee of whatever jail system you land in. And with whatever new boyfriend you acquire, I'm sure your life will be fulfilled.