The Setbacks

What Would the Setbacks Do?

Many, Many Souls Saved Since 2002

Here's where we, the Setbacks, get a chance to answer your questions and give general advice on anything you'd like to ask us.

Email questions to advice[at]thesetbacks.com

Trevor	Listen PETERSON! We get quite a lot of emails from chaps confused by requests from their ladies. It seems the sexual revolution of the 60’s has not been passed onto the next generation of men. I mean, who wants to talk sex with their father while driving in a car, or sitting at a nice dinner. That is what mothers and daughters do. Fathers and sons build things and play sports and pat each other while hugging uncomfortably. This lack of communication has lead to the females knowing all sorts of down and dirty tricks in the sac, while the dude is left to straight up figure it out on the fly. Until I got married, I thought intercourse involved the belly button. I remember this one time I thought I was having sex with my lady, but suddenly I heard her voice coming from over by the elevator buttons. I looked up and she was all standing there looking quite unsatisfied. I didn’t even realize she had gotten up. The other people in the elevator looked at me and I could see disappointment in their eyes. It hurt my soul. My only advice is to engage in open and honest conversations with your lady about your lack of knowledge, and your need to have her bring you up to speed concerning things related to her goods. Ladies like to think they are teaching you things; it is like being a mother but not in a weird way.
Steve	Mistake number 1: being a virgin until you're married. This might have been the way to do it in the 1800's, but today this is seen as an extreme turnoff to most ladies who want to take the car for a test drive before they drop the cash and drive it off the lot. So it's up to you to park your car in her garage before she finds some other dude who'll park his in there first. If you absolutely refuse to go into the garage, then just let her do a little inspection under the hood... sounds like she'd like you to check under her hood too. After that, teach her to drive stick. If she hasn't got her license yet, then send her back to driver's ed until she gets her 365... if you catch my drift.
Paul	I am going to impart some very important advice to you right now Peterson. Keep your mouth shut. Talking only leads to trouble. What can really help you is a lot of head nodding and "un huh's". If you have had a bad couple days at work or your gambling has lost you a bunch of money and your girlfriend asks you "What is wrong?" or "Why don't you tell me about your problems?" here is the winning answer. You simply say "Babe, I love you so much and I wish that I could buy you all the diamonds in the world. When I realize that I can't, it really brings me down. I just want to make you happy." If you don't get a batch of cookies or a smokin BJ from this, there is something wrong with your girlfriend.
Chris	I have no doubt that your girlfriend hates war veterans. That's a no no. There is however the good chance that she also wants you to eat food in front of her. Maybe make up for the potential lapse in understanding with a delectable rack of ribs, perfectly cooked. Eat with your mouth open, and ensure that full mastication is viewed. Surely, your girlfriend will be ecstatic with delight, and it will make up for the gaffe on your part. Anticipating the response of one Steve Palmer, who has crowned himself the King Of Oral Pleasure, do not take his advice, and eat mashed potatoes. The ladies actually quite hate the texture. If I had a dime for every time Steve and I have a beer, and he begins one of his lectures on if you want to get your girl wet....I'd have a million dollars, and if it were his way, the entire inventory of potatoes in Ireland.

Trevor	As you might guess, I cannot answer this advice because I am asking it. Giving an answer here to my own question could very well tear the ver fabric of time itself, causing an eternal unsolvable loop. The results of this would be catastrophic: I would instantly age 1 million years and die and disintegrate right in front of you. And you thought answering advice was easy.
Steve	Trevor - my friend... my ally... my bud... You are stupid. That's right. I know you're talking about me and frankly I'm a little offended that you would come to me asking for advice how to deal with me. I'm also confused. How can I abide by the AAC (Association for Advice Columnists) code of ethics in a situation like this? At times like this I must turn to the only person I can really trust... Trevor, how should I handle this? I want to give Trevor good advice, but he's asking me how you should deal with me and I'm not confident that I can give Trevor unbiased, thoughtful guidance. On the one hand I want to tell him that he in fact is the loser for not coming to the 12:01 Revenge of the Sith show at Silver City... but I know that's the wrong thing to say. I hope you can help me, otherwise I'll be forced to turn to The Setbacks advice page.
Paul	The council warned me about a rebellion. The prophecy made mention of a man that would once support the fight for freedom but then turn over to the dark side. I knew that there would be people who didn't agree with the decisions that I have made. These differences keep us apart but also bind us in an eternal battle for "what-is-considered-entertaining". There are those of us that make hockey-tape lightning bolts for everything electrical that they own because it "looks cool" and there are those of us that go to midnight showings of big hype movies. So you tell me, am I worse to be on the cutting edge of pop culture or to have a VCR with racing stripes?
Chris	Awaiting wisdom...badda bing badda boom

Trevor	Listen HYUNDAI! Sometimes friends fall out of love. When it happens, someone invariably gets hurt. In this case, that someone is you. This will sting for a long time, but time mends all wounds. Except for incurable diseases and amputations. Time also has no effect on healing blindness or deafness. Time can make you more intelligent, but only if you use your time wisely. The best thing about time making you more intelligent is that given enough time, you will eventually become smart enough to master time travel. Then who’s the boss, you or time? I will tell you who: YOU! Rod Hyundai – Master of Time. How is that for a title? Keep it. Consider it my friendship breakup gift to make you forget about your Italian ex-friend.
Steve	The half Japanese are a tricky breed. Italians are, quite possibly, even tougher to figure out. The relationship between you two is obviously very volatile and destined to fail - like so many Japanese before you have at ice hockey and so many Italians before him have at keeping their chest hair at bay. You should just accept that you can't be friends and move on. And while you're at it, pick up Peter Cetera's latest effort "You Just Gotta Love Christmas", featuring the sleeper hit "Something that Santa Claus Left Behind". Classic Cetera - you sure as heck won't be leaving this album behind!
Paul	Daniel: Hey, what kind of belt do you have? Miyagi: Canvas. JC Penny. Three ninety-eight. You like? [laughs] Daniel: No, I meant... Miyagi: Daniel-san... karate here. [he taps his head] Miyagi: Karate here. [he taps his heart] Miyagi: Karate never here [points to his belt] Miyagi: Understand?
Chris	Dear Todd Matsunaga, First of all. I know it's you. Rod Hyundai. Yeah ok. I just called you back to break things off. Todd, I gotta tell you, I really didn't appreciate it when you asked me if you could teabag my face. I googled "teabag", and was horrified to find out what it was. I now know why you were winking and licking your lips at me the other day when we were hanging out, and why you were moaning at me when you mentioned how you thought you should do this to me. So now you know, I just don't want you balls on my face. OK? ...and don't try turning this around on me. Don't make it seem like I am being a lousy friend. I want no man's balls on my face.

Trevor	Listen SEAN! Since you obviously didn’t follow my advice last time, I don’t know what I can do for you. I recommended a full personality makeover, because your actions at that time (and again this time) are unacceptable human social behaviour. And yet here you are in the exact same situation. I can only help you if you want to be helped. You need to realize that this is just a movie. There are an infinite number of things on this earth that can bring you more joy and fulfillment than sitting in a movie theater, eating stale, flavourless popcorn and that gross nacho cheese stuff that only theaters sell. Once you realize this, please let me know. Only then can The Setbacks help you.
Steve	Cut the crap Sean, I'm on to you. Your story has serious holes. Cineplex Odeon is not affiliated with the Coliseum in Ottawa; it is in fact a member of the Famous Players theater chain. It is obvious to me and the rest of the Setbacks that you are not lined up out front of the Coliseum, nor are you dressed up as Ana-Obe-wan-akin-kenobe. In fact, I don't think you'd even have the kit and kaboodles to stand up to those dipshit pimply-faced theater employees if they did get all up in your face like that. Look Sean - I respect you as a fellow diehard fan of the greatest sci-fi franchise in the world, but if you don't have the chicken and ribs to stand up for yourself when some punk-ass supervising manager tells you you're trespassing on his property then you're a disgrace to Mr. Lucas and everything his movies stand for. Think about the Rebel Alliance on the ice planet of Hoth in Episode V. My respect for Luke seriously dropped when those pansies took off as soon as they discovered that Imperial probe droid. What a bunch of damn weiners. You don't want to be a damn weiner, do you Sean?
Paul	Awaiting wisdom...
Chris	You are weird. Plain put. Just strange. In the real world, it is reasonable for people running a business to be more than a little peeved when people like you make it hard for them to conduct what pays the bills. Try moving beyond your selfish desire to express yourself at the expense of other people's patience. I will guarantee a favorable reaction, and you will also get to enjoy your favorite movies at the same time, just like the rest of us, on planet earth. You might even get laid. May 12th, 2005 Amendment to this advice answer: Steve indicated to me that he was dissapointed with the quality of my adviec answer, and drew a comparison to the kind of "7th Heaven" advice that Paul Townsend used to give to obviously made up questions. I've included a revised answer to this question for everyone, on that doesn't side me with the theater, but with the nerd. NEW ADVICE: Sean, I liken this theater to the Empire. The Coliseum is the Death Star. You are Chewbacca, and I am Duke Skylighter, a new Jedi that I developed. Duke Skylighter is the twin brother of Luke Skywalker, but he can fly, and shoot beams out of his eyes that incinerate all Sith and all living creatures, and metal. He can also explode at any given time, only to come back together whenever he wants. He brandishes a lightsaber, but with 4 blades of energy, like the Mach 3 M3. His clothes and robes are fireproof, and he can turn into liquid form. The Jedi Council was so afraid of him, that they sent him to live on the planet Nebulax, which is a planet is the Star Wars universe that I developed on my own as well. What were we talking about here again...?

Trevor	That is a major asshole move. I just changed my email password in case you planted a computer program into your advice that finds passwords. I do not want you reading my email. Just to be sure, I also have been shredding all snail mail that comes to me as well. I also lined the attic of my house with tinfoil to prevent your computer hackery from penetrating my brain. I am attempting to think of things other than you, Anonymous, sitting somewhere out there just totally reading my mind. I think about things which hopefully do not interest you, so as to make you take your mind reading tricks elsewhere. The amount of mental focus required to do this is very taxing. Fatigue sets in and I have no choice but to submerge myself in a bathtub of pea soup knowing you cannot see through it. You cannot read my mind as I dunk my head under the pea soup, and I am free to think of naked ladies and murdering kittens like normal people.
Steve	Don't feel bad, I often read my friends' email. It keeps them honest (without them knowing) and it allows me to foil any surprise birthday party plans that might be brewing. If you're like me, and you're highly suspicious of all your friends, send an email from his account to another one of your friends asking what that person thinks of you. This will give you excellent insight into whether your friends really like you or they're just pricks who only come over to play your X-Box and eat your mom's Steakums... assholes.
Paul	What is "privacy"? Over the past decade we have slowly lost more and more privacy. I think that celebrities are to blame. It has all started with the rich and famous. If they didn't live such juicy, scandal filled, drug infused lifestyles then I wouldn't been so drawn to read as much about them for the sole reason to judge them. Heck, if Pat O'Brian can get away with doing drugs and sleeping with prostitutes, I don't feel bad having a beer and reading Playboy. I'm glad that there are respectable news sources such as US Weekly that I can turn to to fill my insatiable curiosity.
Chris	You should be asking yourself why you checked your friend's email. Do you not trust your friend? Do you think that your friend is a criminal? Perhaps a war criminal? Perhaps an ex Nazi war criminal who escaped justice and successfully sought haven and refuge in North America after the Nazi empire crumbled beneath the weight of the allied forces? If this is in fact what you suspect, and that is essentially what I'm getting from this, then I would suggest not reading anymore of this person's email. You should be contacting the authorities, and explaining your theory. I did this once, and although I was caught unable to in fact prove my theory, Interpol remained suspicious about my father for weeks.

Trevor	Listen ZEPPELIN! Sometimes the ricketiest, oldest roller coasters are the most fun. So buckle in and prepare for the ride of your life. In keeping with the ‘old people as roller coaster’ analogy, you could call her The Bat. I love that roller coaster! It goes backwards and is frightening!
Steve	Wow. Her choice of Michelob is very telling. This says a lot about her character - for example, she has no taste buds - a decrease in the ability to taste is a possible sign of a rabies infection. You should approach this woman with extreme caution and avoid coming into contact with her saliva if possible. It's not your love she wants. She wants to pick at your garbage for food and find a place to nest in your apartment. Your best bet to keep her away is to use animal-proof garbage lids and eliminate any sites that can be used for sleeping or raising young. Remember, animals infected with rabies can smell fear so you always want to act cordial when you pass her in the hall. Just follow these simple steps she'll find somebody else in your building to harass.
Paul	The thing that you have been doing wrong is that when you talk to her, you probably just make small talk and ask her about things that would interest her. The key is to getting old people to stop talking to you is to talk about things that either make them mad or things that they don't understand. Here is a list of possible topics: 1) Same sex marriages. 2) Computer networking. 3) Teenagers. 4) Reality TV. 5) Lesbian Bukkake.
Chris	This is quite the situation you've found yourself in. I warn you though, do not engage in any sexual activity with the old. They have a very commonly found STD called "The Oldness", that extinguishes any youth. 24 hours after the sordid act, you shall find yourself enjoying frozen yogurt, hanging around malls, and wearing a lot of plaid. Think about it.

Trevor	Listen ANDERSON, this is difficult for me to tell you, but unicorns are not real. You have made a very emotionally crippling discovery with these photos showing your soon to be ex-girlfriend getting her nasty on with another man. Sometimes when the brain takes in information like this, it goes into emotional shock. In this case, that shock is manifesting itself as a unicorn. DO NOT show this picture to other people, they will not see the unicorn. They will only see your girlfriend in a compromising position. It will be hard for your brain to let go of this fantasy, as right now it likely the only thing keeping you from having an all out emotional breakdown. But as you come to accept your girlfriend cheating on you, the unicorn will disappear from the picture like the McFly family does in Marty's photo in Back to the Future (the one thing I never understood here is why the people on the photo disappear, but the photo itself doesn't disappear - implying that in the future someone will take a photo of those hedges the McFly children are standing in front of. I doubt someone would take that photo. Time travel is confusing, even for the brilliant writing of Robert Zemeckis).
Steve	Now, listen to me Miles. For hundreds of years, people throughout the world have become familiar with unicorn sightings. Thousands of unicorn encounters are reported every year from all over the world but few are investigated, and none have ever been verified. Though the popular image of the unicorn is that of a white horse differing only in the horn, the traditional (and true) unicorn has a billy-goat beard, a lion's tail, and cloven hoofs, which distinguish him from a horse. True unicorns survive on a steady diet of enchanted hay and respond favourably to fantasy-oriented music (usually of the prog-rock genre) such as Rush, Yes and early Devo. Before you report any unicorn sighting to the local authorities please keep this information in mind as it will greatly reduce the number of hoax unicorn sightings and hundreds of wasted man-hours spent by unicorn sighting investigation teams. Thank you.
Paul	First of all you need to talk to your girlfriend. Surely, you must be mad at her for cheating on you but the more important thing here is to find out the whereabouts of the unicorn. The reason that the unicorn population was reduced to what it is today is because of the medicinal properties of the actual "horn". It has been said that ingesting powdered unicorn horn will increase the size of your hee-hoo. Once you have the unicorn, grow your weiner, have sex with your girlfriend, and then dump her. Then she will forever regret cheating on you.
Chris	Unicorns. The mythical and exhilirating creatures of folklore. They exist, and not just in our dreams and fantasies. I too have seen a pack of unicorns, running through the woods majestically. I unfortunately had no pocket digital camera to capture the magical moment with, but have etched it, mentally, into my brain. Whenever I am having a bad day, I begin humming "Dreamweaver" by Gary Wright to myself, and I close my eyes, as if forever, and think of that fantastic moment. I pity you for having your unicorn experience tainted by the obvious infidelity of your girlfriend. It's a shame that another man's genitals are ruining that photo. You're having a bad day...maybe you should try my method. Instead of thinking of my unicorns though, I would prefer that you thought of Falcor, from The Neverending Story. Someone recently told me that he is a perfect combination of magical golden retrievers and incredible polar bears. Two angelic species. He has the same majestic status as unicorns, and should do the trick. Finally. Yes, show your friends. You'd be a fool not too.

Trevor	Since I accepted Chris' Italian heritage a few months ago, I have learned quite a few things about that particular nationality. The eating habits of the Italian male can be very difficult to digest (hahaha) so rather than try to satisfy his unending hunger for home cooked pasta, focus more on trying to reduce his appetite. Serve a glass of milk with his dinner. I don't know any Italians who can handle this. It will gross him out, and he will not be able to finish his canellonis. As for sandwich advice, I can tell you this: life is like a shit sandwich, because the more bread you got, the less shit you gotta eat. Think about it.
Steve	Contrary to popular belief, the quickest way to Italian man's heart is not through countless layers of thick black chest hair, but through his stomach. While a hot dish of testosteroni is bound to get any Gino's neck and back hair in a wild frenzy, you should provide him with options from time to time. Instead of meat in a pasta pocket, try a knuckle sandwich. Instead of sprinking oregano on everything, try kicking him in the head. I know every Italian man could use a couple helpings of that from time to time. Ah yes, and a rawk sandwich is me in bed with 1977 Debbie Harry on one side and "Little Queen" era Ann Wilson on the other. Delicioso!
Paul	The best thing to do when cooking is to think of things that go well together like: 1) Chicken and Ribs 2) Fries and Gravy 3) Bacon and Eggs 4) Peanut sauce and anything (that stuff is delicious).
Chris	Trevor Kealey everyone, Trevor Kealey...he's going to be at the central comedy club this weekend, and I'll suggest you try the steak. Trevor claims to have accepted my Italian heritage, yet I know he still takes pleasure in questions like this, as it serves him a great opportunity to get a zinger in there whenever he can. The fact is, Trevor has accepted nothing, and I think he still harbours resentment towards all Italian Canadians because of the regular beatings in the back of Jeep Cherokees he got in high school, while his assailants pumped the best in Dance Mix 98' on their stereos. Trevor. Let's end this personal feud you have with all people with heritage from the boot. Italy was not responsible for the punches and kicks you received while going through your formative high school years. Italy, nor I, can take back the humiliating pummeling sessions you received from the ginos, and I can't erase the memories of sweaty mondetta t-shirts, Forza! Italia hats, and cowboy boots as the fists rained down on you. As much as people thought that it was your second name in high school, I do not think you are a "cake" or a "triscuit". You're my bud, and buds talk stuff through. As for your dilemma Ms. Housewife, I've consulted with Antonio Danza, better known to North American audiences as Tony Danza, everyone's favorite Italian. Please read below: Hi Everyone, I'm Tony Danza. The true way to an Italian's heart is to try a pinch of oregano in anything you prepare. Whether it's pasta primavera, or manicotti, Italians love da oregano. When I was on Who's The Boss, I really wanted to nail Alyssa Milano, and not that hundred year old Judith Light, who played Angela. She was gross. I quickly went from having paternal feelings about Alyssa, to suddenly having numbness in my shorts whenever she was around. The sweet smell of Milano was in the air on the set of the show, and soon the producers got wind of my desire to discover Alyssa's assets. Suddenly, the show was ended. I'm kind of glad, because they were developing a romance between me and Mona. Minqua! I now enjoy watching Charmed, and taking a peek at Alyssa's peaks on a regular basis. WHOA! Badda Bing Badda Boom! Ey oh, Oh Ey. As for a rawk sandwich, I dunno. I will tell you this though, I had a rawk sandwich in my pants whenever Alyssa Milano was around...more like a boulder sandwich in my pants....Ey Oh, Oh Ey. Oh!

Trevor	This is all about failed expectations. Your lady expected you to be the man, but it turns out under that gruff exterior, you are a lady. It is disappointing to her, but she'll come around. She will have to accept you for the wine-drinking, lily-kisser that you are. It's like the time I arrived at band practice and noticed Steve's car was there. I thought I was early and would be first. Anyway, he mustn't have been expecting me because when I walked in the room he was wearing nothing but a fur coat, and excessive amounts of make up. He was kissing a painting of Chet (which his parent's had commissioned of him when he was around 14) and pretending they were on a boat. He kept saying things like "I hope the waves aren't too rough for you" and "The salty air really chaps my lips". Then he would kiss the painting again. At this point I let presence be known, and we were caught in an uncomfortable situation. I was disappointed because I didn't know Steve did stuff like that. We haven't spoken of it since, but I am over it now. Just like someday your girlfriend will be over this. Just give it time.
Steve	Faithful advice readers, You may have noted my extended absence from giving useful advice. I've been out and about prancing around the English countryside and through the cobblestone streets of London for the past little while and I'd like to formally announce my return to the pages of the WWSD column. Let's get right into this one... here's how you can save face in this kind of a situation: The bath robe: tell her that your all your gitch was in the wash The movie: tell her you were just fast-forwarding to the parts with Kiera Knightley so that you could slap the salami a bit The wine: tell her it's pig's blood or something That's damage control in a nutshell. Aces. Hope that works out, bud. And Trevor, I really wish you hadn't shared that with everybody.
Paul	I think that your best bet is to re-establish your manhood. Make your women know that you are the one who wears the pants in the relationship. 1) Build something. Ideally something that involves lots of big tools and not just an allen key. 2) Cook steaks on the BBQ. Make them big and bloody with NO side salad. 3) Smack her on the forehead with your penis.
Chris	Why and how is this weird? My idea of a nice night is opening a perfectly chilled bottle of champagne, breaking out some After Eight mints, and watching my two favorite movies, Hope Floats and Love Story, while wearing my favorite robe and flipping through a Bed, Bath, & Beyond catalogue or flyer. Also, some incense or scented candles fill out the evening. I sometimes even send out a personal invitation to that special someone...myself!

Trevor	Listen ENERGIES! Do what I did! Get yourself a home lance kit, and do it quick. Do not let this thing get out of hand. You see, I had a somewhat similar problem. During exams back in my school years, I had been locked in my room for a few days just stone cold studying, all up to my armpits in quadratic equations. I did not shower, shave, or pursue any of my normal hygiene routine. I really wanted to get a good grade so that god would be proud of me. Anyways, on the first day, I accidentally stabbed myself in the neck with a pencil while pondering an especially difficult problem. I guess a piece of lead became lodged in there. The next morning it was like a marble in my neck, all swollen. Only it was soft. I could even push it around. By the end of that day if was more the size of a softball. In addition, it was hardening. I poked it with my pencil, and it leaked profusely. When I got the clear liquid to congeal, I went to bed and forgot about it. The next day I woke up and I looked like a two-headed person! It was as large as my head; it even forced me to cant my head at a 45-degree angle. Upon closer inspection I could see veins had grown around it, and there was even a patch of hair growing. I was worried so I emerged from my room to ask my roommate Munch for some advice. He was quite horrified to see me in this state, which was not encouraging, and unfortunately, he had no advice for me. He ran upstairs to vomit while I hit up the local pharmacy. The small Asian man behind the counter suggested a home lance kit. He had some imported from Vietnam (I lived in China town in those days) and he sold it to me for a reasonable price. I also bought a pair of flip flops and an unidentified root which he said would ward off evil spirits. When I got home, I had a lot of trouble with the instructions, since it was all in Vietnamese, but it seemed simple enough. There was a large, sharp stick about the size of a chopstick, two cloths that smelled like ammonia, and a cheesecloth type of sack. So I did my best (Munch would not help me) in the mirror of the small bathroom, while standing in the tub. I should mention that by this time, the boil had grown larger than my head and it was throbbing visibly. My neck was sore, and I was always bumping the boil on doorframes and such. It was very painful. Anyways, I stood in the tub, placed the medicated ammonia clothes within reach (I had figured these would be to clean the wound), and covered the boil with the cheesecloth as best I could. It barely covered 25% of the growth. Then I took a shot of whiskey, bit down on a small throw pillow, and stabbed the boil with the chopstick lance. The stab caused a large blow out. The kick back forced my head into the ceramic tiles in the tub very hard and knocked me out cold. When I came to, I was lying in the tub, and it was overflowing with greenish yellow thick sludge mixed with blood. The smell was putrid, but that was the least of my worries. Luckily, the faucet was caught in the now loose extra skin that was left from the exploded boil as I fell, otherwise I surely would have drowned that day. I tried to get out of the tub, and to the safety of my room (I still had some studying to do), but I was pretty light headed from losing all that fluid. I ended up falling into the tub all the way. As the thick mixture of mucus and urine entered every orifice in my head (I had surmised that during my unconsciousness my bladder had vacated), I thought I might die. My life flashed before my eyes as the pea soup thick liquid entered my nose and mouth, cutting off my precious air supply. I struggled against it, but had become so weak that my flailing did nothing but kick up some of the thickest sludge that had settled at the bottom of the tub. I felt everything going grey, the bitter taste of the bile was becoming distant and I prepared to black out again, this time possibly forever. As I thought about my friends and family and tried to send them positive energy during my death so as not to curse them, a wonderful thing happened. My roommate Munch came bursting in. He had noticed the green slime trickling slowly down the stairs and was obviously curious (he later admitted to going to get his old shoes on, so as to not ruin his socks). He saw me flailing in the tub, reached in, and pulled me out by the loose neck skin. I was saved by the miracle of friendship. Later that day I cut the extra skin off with the kitchen scissors, and used some Crazy Glue to patch up the hole. I took me a long time to clean the bathroom (Munch never used it again, preferring to shower at gyms and relieve himself in the backyard with the rest of the bums). I even suffered for a few days from ‘ghost boil’, where I would cant my head and turn sideways to go through doors to allow for the non-existent boil. To this day, I still believe that I was saved by my positive thoughts and energy, though Munch insists it was the smell. The moral of the story is to have awesome friends, AND LANCE THAT BOIL!
Steve	Awaiting wisdom...
Paul	This is officially one of the most disgusting things that I have ever read. If I write any more I will be forced to vomit on the keyboard.
Chris	Hey Paul Townsend! Heads up. If you think that this is gross, let me tell you about the time when a friend of mine had this giant boil on his knee, that burst when he put on a pair pants. The contents of the boil smelled like vinegar and hot pickled eggs, and it was steaming when it broke. He found a fingernail and what looked to be mustard in the boil when he removed his pants, and he has a permanent yellow blotch on his foot from the crap that came out of it seeping down his leg.