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— Do you mind if I use your restroom?
— It's broken. I can give you a cup.
— She likes the column.
— I told you. But Ryan, dear, do yourself a favor, misspell a word now and then. Cindy always did.
— How did you know?
— Sure. Gorgeous, therefore stupid. Why am I always a stereotype?
— Why didn't you tell page?
— I have a feeling about you. One more word of advice, though. This isn't a game. People might actually read this drivel. Some folks have nowhere else to turn. So if you're gonna do it, do it for real. Don't be a man, be human.
— Was I that big an asshole?
— I wouldn't say big. Huge? Gigantic. Paul Bunyan comes to mind.
«Dear Cindy, I caught my husband cheating, but that's not the worst of it. The woman is not half as attractive as me. Am I wrong for feeling twice as hurt?»
— They say dogs are a man's best friend. Your man found a real barker. But remember, when you lie down with dogs — you wake up with fleas. But when you lie down
with ugly dogs, you wake up alone, because even the fleas don't want you.
— All right, Ryan. Hey, listen, if you want to quit, I don't blame you. When I was starting out, this doctor asked me to consult on this burn victim. I go in the room. This guy's got third degree burns on 90% of his body. He was in so much pain It... it was horrifying. And I look at the guy, and I was... I was scared shitless, all right? So I ran out of there. And then I was embarrassed. I didn't know what to do. So I called a friend of mine, told him what happened. You know what he said? He goes, «Hey, you're scared. How do you think that burn victim feels?»
— Smart friend.
— Yes, you were.
— Thanks, Barry.
«Dear Cindy, I have a small moustache, but waxing is painful and I can't afford laser removal. Do men really mind this? Signed, hair lip.»
— Dear hair lip, if a man has a problem with your facial hair, strap him down, rip off his 5:00 shadow with hot wax, and ask him if any woman is worth that twice a week.
«Dear Cindy, I'm in a monogamous relationship with a great guy. It's just that sometimes I get the urge to stray. Maybe the stability bores me, or I just crave the excitement of sex with someone new? Help, I'm confused.»
— Dear «Confused», although multiple partners can be exciting, you have to think of them as you would a snowstorm. You never really know when they will come, how long they will last, or how many inches you will get. Stick to what you already have. It's so much nicer to watch the storm pass cuddling with someone, who loves you.
— Oh! Mr. Turner. Come in.
— Someone's excited to see me?
— Hell... that always happens when I wear a rayon blouse with no bra. Color me embarrassed.
— I am very pleased with cindy's performance. I guess this illness has had a profound effect on her after all. Or... you have.
— Thank you.
— Anyway... I have something for you. It's the first paycheck that Cindy actually deserves.
— Forgot all about that. That's great. You look nice today.
— Thank you. But may I remind you, you've been around a sick woman?
— No, you have a definite glow.
— If you're not taking him, I will.
— Iris, what are you babbling about?
— He obviously wants one of us.
— He has a girlfriend.
— What the hell. She'll be dead soon, anyway.
«Dear Cindy, I've recently been introduced to your column, I don't have many people to talk to, so I thought, well... here goes. My son has the aids. I never approved of his lifestyle, and was always honest about it. Now, I live in shame, and have been telling people he has cancer. I know most of your stuff is about broken hearts and romance, but why can't I move past this? I don't have a lot of time to find an answer here. Please... help me. I don't have a lot of time to find an answer, please help me.»
— It is not how your son dies, but rather, how he lived. He may not agree with all your life choices either, but I'll bet he loves you. Don't be angry at yourself for feeling shame, be angry at the people who instill shame in you. Let go of your prejudice, and grab hold of your son. You'll have plenty of time after he's gone for anger.
— You don't think I'd fit in with the elitist, high-brow, artsy fartsy downtown scene? I can be as progressive as the next guy.
— Okay, come on.
— What is «projected pastels»?
— You'll see.
— Okay, maybe not as progressive as the next guy.
— The artist inserts the hose and fills himself with paint.
— You're kidding?! You're not kidding.
— Now he'll projectile release the paint onto the canvas.
— Whatever happened to brushes?
— He calls it «Enemart». It represents the waste of his life being released from the bowels of his being. Do you find this offensive?
— No. No. What about this could possibly be offensive?
— I'm so sorry.
— Just because I got a little paint in the face from a man's ass?
— But it was a well respected ass. You should have seen your expression. It was actually kind of cute.
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