Dreading School Dances
I'm fourteen, and girls don't like me. I don't know how to talk to them, and I think they make fun of me because I'm short, and good at science, and I like comics. How do I learn to talk to girls?
Son, I don't usually find myself giving advice. Especially to fourteen-year-old killers. But please listen to me just this one time. Keep your ass to the wall, and don't trust anybody, don't help anybody, don't ask anybody for anything.
Posted by Frank Pembleton at 2:01 AM on 3/30/05 | Comments (0)
No It Doesn't
Come on! I'd actually answer the questions, instead of issuing declamations like Pembleton. And what is up with him anyway? He's not morally ambiguous -- he's hypermoral! I've been a shady-seeming federal agent a few times. Doesn't that count for something? -- Daniel Benzali
Hey, ipsa this, you pissy little bitch!
Hell, all the advice was in the name of this entry. The rest was just 'cause I think it's funny to call someone a pissy little bitch. As for what the hell Pembleton does with us, the guy'll tell you himself, "The longer I live, the less I know. I should know more. I should know the coffee's killing me. You're suspicious of your suspicions? I'm jealous." Are you stunned I can recite that from heart? Don't be. We hear it around here eight goddamn times a day. Don't even get us started on the "No more lies" spiel.
Posted by Andy Sipowicz at 3:11 AM on 3/25/05 | Comments (0)
Entering the Seventh Level of Hell
I'm about to go on vacation to the Cactus League games in Arizona. I don't know what to pack, and I'm concerned that it'll be hot. Please help. -- Confused traveler
Comfortable shoes are a must, as well as your own water bottles. There's no humidity in Hell. By all reliable accounts, there's not a single drop of water to pass between Heaven and Hell. Hell is a dry heat.
Posted by Frank Pembleton at 4:11 AM on 3/21/05 | Comments (0)
Looking for Pain
My fiancee was recently killed in a mysterious train accident -- even though the train wasn't moving, she was found pinned beneath a cargo container. It's tragic. But when I buried her, I didn't feel grief, but relief. You see, I was planning on calling off the wedding because she was a style-obsessed control freak.
So here's my problem. My sister married this guy with a really hot daughter, and although this girl's technically my niece, or my step-niece, I don't feel very avuncular toward her. I'd actually like to date her. She's 19, so she's legal, and it's not like we're related. My question: how long must I observe a period of mourning before asking my niece on a date? And should I be concerned that this girl was seen near the railyard the day before my fiancee was found? I could use some good cop advice here. -- Looking for Love Again
Good cop and bad cop have left for the day. I'm a different kind of cop. A bald, morally ambiguous cop. I hope that's good enough for you, you advice-seeking scumsucker. You don't score points with me bagging 19-year-olds, and you certainly aren't impressing me with bagging your niece. Guy like you, with a fiancee recently and tragically murdered? You should at least look like you're grieving, and keep your hands to yourself. I'm going to be checking back on the girl from time to time. I better like what I find.
Posted by Vic Mackey at 5:11 AM on 3/17/05 | Comments (0)
Nothing Personal
How does one get on your website as an advice-dispensing, bald, morally ambiguous cop? I'm bald and morally ambiguous, and I can dispense advice with the best of them. So why am I not invited to join you? -- Daniel Benzali
Thomas Hauk:Because, well, you're not really known for playing bald, morally ambiguous cops are you? It's a package deal. Don't feel bad. We wouldn't let Kojak in the club either.
Ellis Carver: Oh, I think we could let Kojak in now.
Thomas Hauk: What the fuck? He's supposed to be a good cop.
Ellis Carver: You're going to tell me someone who looks like Ving Rhames ain't got a bad side?
Posted by Ellis Carver and Thomas Hauk at 9:15 PM on 3/7/05 | Comments (0)
Glasshole
I'm about to go on a fancy Valentine's Day date, and I'm sweating the details. Although I can swing the silverware using the ol' work-from-the-outside-in rule, I'm still shaky on figuring out which water glass and bread plate are mine. It's a double date, and the last thing I want to do is take the other guy's glass. That might make us married in some cultures, and I can't hang with that. And if it turns out I do drink out of some other guy's glass, how do I handle it? -- Glassed Off.
Option one, you take him alive. Feel free to imagine option two.
Seriously, if killing some guy at the table's gonna kill your chances later, remember your table maners like this: solids on the left, liquids on the right.
Posted by Vic Mackey at 5:15 PM on 2/13/05 | Comments (0)
Sugarbuster
I recently went on a very strict diet, one that requires me to pass up on most processed carbohydrates. Subsequently, whenever I go to the dinner parties that are a part of my social obligations, I find I'm often forced to choose between nibbling politely on crudites all night, and breaking my diet with tempting potato dishes. Is there any way for me to politely tell hosts and hostesses about my dietary restrictions. I'm hesitant because a self-imposed diet isn't anything like an actual medical allergy, yet I'm trying to reduce temptation. -- Carb-free and hoping to stay that way
You gotta know the darker, uglier sides of yourself. You gotta recognize them, so that they're not constantly sneaking up on you. You gotta LOVE 'EM, 'cause they're part of you, because along with your virtues, they make you who you are. Virtue isn't virtue unless it slams up against vice. So consequently, your virtue's not real virtue. Until it's been tested. . . tempted.
Posted by Frank Pembleton at 5:15 PM on 2/5/05 | Comments (0)
Move On Already!
My mom died in 18 months ago, and my dad got remarried last year. I don't like his new wife. She made him rewrite his will so she gets everything, and every time we visit our dad, she hands over a big box of mememtoes -- family pictures that have hung on the wall for years, the everyday china, our old yearbooks -- and says, "I'm not living with a ghost! This isn't a mausoleum! Time to clear out the crypt, ha ha ha ha ha!"
And now she's invited us to a 1st year anniversary party. My sisters and I don't want to go. What should we do? -- Still Grieving
If this is about your mother, deal with it. But if you're avoiding the party because you're pissed off about the way your new mommy runs the house, stay and fight it! Leaving is a punk move and you know it!
Also, getting your dad and new mommy something paper is a thoughtful first-anniversary gift.
Posted by Andy Sipowicz at 2:11 AM on 1/21/05 | Comments (0)
Hostile
I'm getting married to the real love of my life. It's my second marriage, his first. We're planning on a small, tasteful wedding in my parents' backyard. Since many of my relatives attended my first wedding, they're fine with skipping the second. The problem is that his family doesn't respect our need to keep the guest list small. Although our guest list is extremely well-edited and carefully planned, my fiance's niece said she'll be bringing a date. We didn't specify that she could on her invitation. The niece is enough of a princess to make a real stink when we bring this up. How do we tell her we didn't intend for her to bring a date, and we don't intend to feed him at the reception? -- Hospitality Thwarted
You did the right thing in coming to me. And now, I'm going to do right by you. So here's what we're gonna do. Give me her address. I'm going to take her for a little ride, explain a few things. If she still insists on bringing a date -- well, I know this abandoned train cargo container. I'm gonna throw her in there with you, and shut you up overnight. It can go one of two ways. You can work out your differences, or one of you can kill the other. I hope you'll be able to work out your differences. If not? I'll take the survivor for a pancake breakfast afterward. It's the least I can do.
Posted by Vic Mackey at 2:11 AM on 1/17/05 | Comments (0)
Tactless
I've got a slightly incompetent, majorly clueless boss. So does everyone, right? Here's the problem. Boss and I travel with a few other people, because we work on-site with our clients. Clueless Boss has got major pull with our client, and often promises things to the client that we can't deliver without a lot of overtime. People are getting burnt out, and we're waiting for the day this boob promises something we can't deliver. We'd like to ask Clueless Boss to pay a little more attention during team meetings so he can get a realistic idea of what we can do?
How do I politely make my request without jeopardizing my job? -- Tactfully Puzzled.
Like this: "Please don't be an idiot. Thank you."
Posted by Frank Pembleton at 9:15 PM on 1/5/05 | Comments (0)
House of Pain
I recently attended a bridal shower in which the hostesses had us pre-address our own thank-you note envelopes for the gifts. I really don't like this: I feel like it puts gift-givers on the spot and makes them feel as though the bride-to-be doesn't feel as though she's sending a thank-you note out of obligation, but duty. The hostesses are planning on throwing a bridal party luncheon. How can I make sure they don't embroil the bride in another etiquette faux pas? -- Painfully Polite
You get two of us. Lucky you. We wrote our answer in dialogue form below:
Hauk: Why not just argue for convenience? Brides got a lotta things to do, maybe they appreciate a pre-addressed envelope?
Carver: Brides, sure. The people who get the notes, not so much.
Hauk: Why do they care?
Carver: Have you ever been on the wrong side of a group slander?
Hauk: You know perfectly well I have not. I'm untouchable.
Carver: You know, this is why I think we can't really answer this question.
Hauk: Why?
Carver: It's like this. Brides screw up, they get beaten. We screw up, we get a pension.
Posted by Ellis Carver and Thomas Hauk at 9:18 PM on 12/28/04 | Comments (0)
Moon
I'm a typical New York City Sex-and-The-City woman, which is to say that I'm always looking for Mr. Right. My problem: I don't know how to get or keep a man's attention. I'm always getting passed over at parties for women who don't just smile and nod in agreement. This is getting old. Please help. -- Mooning over a new crush
Welcome to "Ask A Bald, Morally Ambiguous Cop," a weblog where bald, morally ambiguous cops will tell you how to cope with the troubles and stresses of everyday life. Why? Because we're cops, that's why. We've seen everything. And why bald cops? Because that's less time we have to spend on the hair. And why morally ambivalent bald cops? Because we're more likely to understand the subtle nuances of daily life.
Now as to your question, Moon. When all else fails, take off your pants. That's a quick way to get the conversation started. It's worked for me every time.
Posted by Andy Sipowicz at 5:15 AM on 12/17/04 | Comments (0)
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