Dealing With Pesky Co-Workers And Exorcising Children

Welcome back, guidance-seekers, to “Ask Professor Classypants,” the internet’s only ill-advised advice column.  Except for the part where the internet is one giant source for bad advice.

I have been overwhelmed by the flood of letters since we first revealed to readers that we were, in fact, accepting letters.  Since my rigorous code of professional ethics bars me from quitting after just one week, I do hope you’ll keep those letters coming!


Without further delay, let’s dig in to those letters, shall we?

Dear Professor Classypants:

How do you talk to an angel?

Signed,  Jamie Walters

I’m sorry, Jamie, I couldn’t hear you. I have lens-friendly vaseline in my ear.

Dear Jamie:

You can imagine my initial delight at being contacted by a real live TV heartthrob.  Until I realized that your letter could not be from the real Jamie Walters, actor and one-hit wonder from Beverly Hills 90210 spin-off The Heights.  For one, Jamie Walters would never write from  He’d clearly still be on AOL, rummaging through post office trash bins for free AOL 9.3 diskettes, wiping his dusty hands on his Hyper-Color hoodie.  And your biggest tell?  The real Jamie Walters knows that you can’t talk to an angel.  It’s like trying to catch a falling star. -P.C.

Professor Classypants:

I’m a conservative for life, and something rather worrisome has been happening to me lately. Every time I take a @#$!, I get a b-ner. Does this mean I’m a homosexual? If so; Do you have any recommendations as to how I can un-gay myself?  -M.A.

Dear M.A.:

Your letter gave me quite a start, until I remembered that my mother has been gone for many years.  Well, “M.A.” (which likely stands for Most Awkward), in reading between the lines of your subtle and gentle inquiry, I can safely say that you’re probably not gay.  Most gays are much better at using semi-colons.  You should be so lucky. – P.C.

The Professor thinks you’re lame.


Dear Professor Classypants:

Who asked you?

Truly, Anonymous

Dear Anonymous:

Why, you did!  Just now.  Try to keep up. – P.C.

Hey Professor Classypants:

My husband told me that he “would not leave [me] for a FAT Jennifer Love Hewitt.”  Do I need any further confirmation that he is the perfect man? 


This Guy *douche-y two-thumbed self-referential gesture*

Dear This Guy:

You had better empty the dishwasher before I get home. – P.C.

Eff off, universe.

Dear Professor Classypants:

I have a coworker who is a chronic over-sharer. I have to hear about her marital problems, her PAP smear results — all of it. She’s a nice person and I don’t want to hurt her feelings, but how do I let her know I don’t want to hear about every last detail of her personal life?

Signed, Danielle

Dear Danielle:

FINALLY.  Someone is taking seriously the opportunity to get free, unprofessional, and possibly dangerous advice from a stranger online.  Wow, Danielle, that is a pickle.  I find that office oversharers are usually just a wee bit lonely and looking to make friends.  Just remember that no one wants to be friends with the person who actually performs the PAP smear (can you imagine ALWAYS wondering if she washed her hands or what on Earth happened to that Popsicle she was just eating?) .  Next time she offers up any personal details, just slap on some latex gloves and tell her to hold her breath.  She’ll leave you alone.  – P.C.

Trust me. I’m a doctor.

Dear Professor Classypants:

Are you sure Popsicle is capitalized?


Your Inner Voice

Dear Voice:

Yes. “Popsicle” is a brand name that has become conflated with the item itself.  It’s like Kleenex. – P.C.


Your Popsicles are like Kleenex?  Ewwwwwwwwwww.



What are you, five?  Let’s get back to the real questions.  This bit is old. – P.C.

In other news, Popsicles have gotten…mature.

Dear Professor:

My child is showing great interest in getting “extercise,” eats his vegetables to the exclusion of his tater-tots, and seems to be destined for a generally healthy lifestyle.  My wife and I, on the other hand, are lazy and slovenly; we have to struggle to even put up a basic facade of being an active family.

My question is this: how do we convince our child to chill the f@#! out?

Signed,  Simon

Dear Si:

Is it alright if I call you Si?  I really don’t want to waste my breath on the whole name of SOMEONE WHO CAN’T TEACH HIS KID TO CORRECTLY PRONOUNCE “EXERCISE.”  That being said, I feel you on this one.  My child is barely a toddler and I foresee her getting really self-righteous.  I, myself, used to chant “Seatbelt!  Seatbelt!  Seatbelt!” in this chirpy, grating sing-song every time my father got in the car.  Until one day he tucked and rolled while we were on the interstate, never to be seen again.

So what I’m saying is, celebrate your child’s new interest without sacrificing your own identity.  And then jump from a moving vehicle. – P.C.

And thank your lucky stars the kid isn’t into exorcising.

I can’t believe it!  We’ve reached the end of another column.  Thanks for stopping by to live, love, and learn.  Be sure to join us next week. And remember:  Act Classy and you will be classy.  Ish.

Have a question for Professor Classypants? Feel free to use our magical form that lets you enter information into rectangles. When you hit SUBMIT, the form sends electronic mail to Professor Classypants with your message. Great… now we’ve over-explained things.

Molly Martin

Professor Darla Von Classypants is actually Molly G. Martin. Because Ann Landers and Dear Abby and Dear Prudence haven't used real names in 67 years so why should she? And if you're thinking this reminds you of an old Dave Barry schtick: when you grow up and get your own blog, THEN you can have opinions.

Leave a Reply