Frequently Asked Questions, Unlimited (FAQ U)
To all of you who have pondered such timeless questions as, "why did the chicken cross the road?", "who’s your daddy?", or "does this make me look fat? No, seriously?", this blog’s for you. Post your problems, and let my slightly cropped alter ego Hikaru enlighten thee. (Psst psst, click Comments)
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June 7th, 2005 at 2:35 pm
my friends say that looking for true love takes the same kind of dedication it would take to find, say, a great job, or the perfect apartment– you really have to devote yourself full-time to The Hunt. Yet folk wisdom has it that when you stop looking, is when you find it. O Enlightened One, will You please point the way toward Truth for me? Sincerely, your unworthy subject & mortal, Elizabeth
June 7th, 2005 at 3:30 pm
My dearest Elizabeth,
As much as I am tempted to point to you the Truth, I have been taught since youth that it is impolite to point. However, if you follow my directions, you might find your truth loitering by the dumpster behind Kmart.
Devoting yourself full-time to The Hunt is ill-advised and socially irresponsible. Women who have done so have ignored comparatively less significant obligations such as proper hygiene and family funerals out of lack of time. By the way, were those friends the same friends who advised you to wear that polyester tubetop to the office party? Nuff said.
When you stop looking, and he’s not looking, the only things you might find are your inner self and self-worth, and where’s the fun in that?
Here’s my suggestion to finding true love: blackmail. I have heard a lot of successful love stories where a woman impregnates herself with the man she thinks could be The One (or one of the ones) while he’s unaware (I know you’ve been thinking of that, you naughty succubus you!). Knowing who the guy is would be nice, but not necessary. Or you could threaten to report him to the INS if he doesn’t love you back.
Hikaru.
June 7th, 2005 at 4:29 pm
How can you forget somebody…somebody who makes you think…somebody who makes you feel…somebody who makes you feel pain?…somebody who makes you remember…everything…the memories…how can you force yourself to shut your feelings for him? You just want to cry and shout that you hate him but you just can’t bring yourself to hate…
June 7th, 2005 at 4:57 pm
My dearest Glen,
Under these circumstances, most people turn to the obvious solution: alcohol. That, however, is the most uncreative way of solving your problem, so kindly put that bottle back on the shelf and listen. Rather than wallowing in the miserable memories inflicted by that certain person, (do I know him? I promise I won’t tell) focus instead on your thighs or some body part that troubles you. That will distract you from hating him, and in so doing you have made your problem more manageable since the problem is now YOU, and let’s face it, it’s much easier to solve problems if the source is yourself and not others. If that still doesn’t work, drink lots of water to avoid a hangover.
Hikaru
June 7th, 2005 at 5:43 pm
Dear… agony uncle?
How do I get rid of people chasing after me to bed them? It’s not that I’m not interested AT ALL, it’s just casual sex isn’t my cup of tea anymore. I’m looking for, as you nicely put it, ‘The One’. Also, how do I find ‘The One’? It’s not exactly we got Oracle here, is it? Would you recommend a love potion, the ‘imperius’ curse, or simply ‘avada kedavra’? Lastly, who, in your opinion, is the half-blood prince in Harry Potter and the Half-blood Prince?
These are questions I’d die a million times to get them answered.
I love you and RSVP
June 7th, 2005 at 6:23 pm
My dearest Dino,
I regret to inform you that my name is not Agony nor am I your uncle. But for a small fee, anything is negotiable.
Based on experience, the best way to deter people from chasing after you for sex is by throwing light objects at them (pebbles, grass, your purse, etc) while you’re trying to escape. I’ve even had pets thrown at me once, but it’s the bullets that hurt the most.
Another bit of sad news; “The One” for you is dead. Got run over by a bus. Tragic, really.
There is no FDA-approved love potion out in the market as of press time, but I find that a good-old knock on the head with a hammer often does the job. Avoid the “avada kedavra” curse as much as possible for its constipating side-effects, and try the more festive “hava nagila” for a change.
The half-blood prince, now that’s your uncle. Not me. Him.
Hikaru.
June 7th, 2005 at 8:47 pm
Mister mahnn…
Let me shre with you some thoughts on the beauty of life and what it is that makes you answer these posts.
Sometimes, when a person feels like losing his ground, he tends to find the balancing act in things that matter the least. Things that give temporary bliss. Such is his search for instant happiness that he fails to stay focused on those that will endorse his growth and make him move on. Unless man knows his purpose, he will continue to make the same mistakes and willl never learn to teach himself the value of a lesson learned.
In other wordz cuz, figure this one out…
But maybe just one question to tickle you fancy. Why am i so pretty?
Love you much,
ALLONDRA
June 8th, 2005 at 10:46 am
My dearest Allondra/Dewi,
You are pretty because you are my cousin. And cosmetic surgery is much cheaper in the Philippines.
Allow me to restructure your musings into valid questions for the purpose of this blog:
Q: What is it that makes you answer these posts?
A: Hmmm, I’d say the beauty of life. Nah, just kidding. This blog’s sponsored by WalMart, that’s why.
Q: I heard rumors that you seem to be losing your ground lately? Is that true?
A: Definitely not. I did lose a dollar to a coke-vending machine once, but that was a long time ago.
Q: So you’re not trying to find the balancing act in things that matter the least then?
A: How’s my hair?
Q: I’ll take that as a ‘yes’. Do you realize that your search for instant happiness prevents you from staying focused on those that will endorse your growth—
A: Whoa, whoa, whoa, scientific research points out that size doesn’t matter—
Q: Are you even listening?
A: As long as you lay off the penis references.
Q: What?! Next question. Do you know your purpose in life?
A: I have it written somewhere. Why?
Q: Unless you know your purpose, you will never learn to teach yourself the value of a lesson learned.
A: [silence] I don’t believe that’s a question. Do you mind if I restructure your musings into a valid question for the purpose of this post?
Q: Go figure it out for yourself, cuz.
A: As I was asking earlier, how’s my hair?
Hikaru.
June 8th, 2005 at 10:20 pm
My dearest bern,
your body is as hot as a hotdog left in the oven for seven days. please wear a shirt all the time.. especially outdoors… girls and boys can burn looking at you…. ahhh those wet abs… why do u have to be gay?
June 9th, 2005 at 1:38 pm
My dearest Jennielyn,
A hotdog left in the oven for an hour becomes burnt and shriveled. Multiply that by 168 divided by 24 (7 days if you do the math, 1×168/24 if you don’t), and the resulting imagery isn’t what one would normally associate with sexual desirability, but it’s the thought that counts, so thank you.
I forgot to do my laundry that day, hence the shirtless look, and I wasn’t desperate enough to borrow a t-shirt and risk the embarrassment of not being able to match my goggles.
The gay part was my way of staying hip and relevant in 2001 when gay TV characters and flip-flops were waaay cool. Now that hip-hop artists have claimed that spot, chances are next month I will be black.
And i find that being considered gay is a far more effective psycho-chick-stalker deterrent than restraining orders.
Hikaru
June 10th, 2005 at 9:32 pm
you are stuck on an island. pick one thing you’d want off this list.
me (that is a given so you may not choose that one)
beer
typewriter
God
the cast of Lost
a bathroom
your senior class
and explain why.
June 13th, 2005 at 12:02 pm
My dearest Ratana,
God is everywhere, so eliminating Him would be futile, and the same applies to you since you insist to be on the island for reasons I can’t figure out. Being a writer-wannabe who poops, the bathroom and typewriter stay. But you forgot a crucial component to both items: paper. Without it, I have no use for either one, and your question clearly states that I pick ONE, so in an act of stylish defiance, I will pick neither. LOST has been renewed for two more seasons, meaning I’m stuck with the cast for a while, and my senior class won’t leave either for they’re too busy copying my homework. With so many people stuck in my island, the beer will eventually run out, and your question has just answered itself. Beer, now that’s why you don’t wanna leave.
Hikaru.
June 15th, 2005 at 9:30 am
lalalalala
hmmm
A question, eh? *rubs chin and deeply ponders*
In the end, this is all that I can think of.
How does one determine that the path that they’ve chosen for themselves is the correct one?
Also . . . say that one decides to do one thing, and then 10 years later, they start to regret it, and realizes that they want to do something else. Would you drop what you’re doing now, and then pursue your interest, or would you stay where you are at to maintain a sense of financial security?
NOTE: I am not into materials, but damn . . . I love MONEY. hahahahaha
Dazed and Confused,
Elene
June 15th, 2005 at 6:17 pm
GAY? The center of my spiritual universe is batting for the other team? My life as I have known it has just been turned inside out & upside down. You see unlike your other devotees I have only worshiped you from afar, only on my screen, never in person, never close enough to actually, you know, inhale your manly essence. This tactic has kept me sane, kept the giant slavering wolf of tragic, insatiable, utterly unrequited desire from my door.
BUT Bernard, the Bernard of countless wanton fever-dreams– GAY? I cannot think of it. That way madness lies…
Oh, who am I kidding. There is nothing for it, my dignity is as nothing to me now: I shall forthwith cut off all my hair & smear my luminescent alabaster skin (you remember) with ashes. Bernard, gay? As King Lear so aptly put it,
“Howl, howl…”
your trembling, ashen,
utterly heartbroken,
Elizabeth
P.S. I’ll prove a silky succubus indeed, should I ever catch you unawares…
June 16th, 2005 at 1:49 pm
Aw~~ my eyes, they burn!!
What have happened to your chubby lil belly o mighty one?
*touch*
you never fail to bring me back to my natural high when i’m lost inside my pants o_O. your blog has enlightened me, yet, i havent read all of them yet. Lost? So am I.
Perhaps I will be of some use and contribute to your collection of sorrows on this unfair land by the time i get myself into pitiful disasters, ie. hooking up with my roomies -_-”
Till then, i wish you all well.
Elizabeth: The harder you seek for something, the harder they hide from you. Reminds me of the time i look for my keys. I cannot seem to find them, yet they find me at the moment i least expected them.
Dino: Good to see your writings again =D
Whoever else posted: Get LAID PLEASE!!
George
June 21st, 2005 at 4:26 pm
My dearest readers and contributors,
I have of late, but wherefore I know not, lost all my mirth (i.e. my atm), por isso eu desculpo-me pelo recente atraso em meu blog. The responses to the last three posts have been consolidated into one spell-checked mess below.
My dearest Elene,
If the uniform of choice for the path you’re currently in are fishnet stockings and a pleather miniskirt outside Ho Chien’s Donuts at 2 in the afternoon, it’s safe to say you’re fucked. But who am I to decide which path is best for you? Consult with mapquest for a better answer.
Ragarding your question about dropping what you’re doing 10 years down the road, I say drop it. I’m kidding, don’t. Seriously, drop it. No, don’t.
Drop it.
My dearest Elizabeth,
Speak not of bats nor teams for I know naught of outdoor activities beyond petting stray dogs and tourists. I did a semester of golf in college, but the barely mobile nature of the game disqualifies it from being a legitimate sport, making it akin to dishwashing, with only half the fun.
Crackbaby, felon, white trash, whore (untrue), etc. have been used to describe yours truly at some point in my life, gay being the least inspired of the bunch. Gay is an emotion best suited for bluebirds and songs in need of a word to rhyme with “hey”, bisexuality is merely the scientific name for indecisiveness, and straight is a direction devoid of any surprises which would be uncharacteristic of someone with a fondness for jumping out of cardboard boxes to startle his office mates. So, hey.
Wash the ashes from your face and tape back your hair. On June 26, right after the Simpsons, you might find me unaware. Don’t be late.
My dearest George,
Do your eyes still burn? Good. That’s what you get for not following instructions. The blog requires you to provide a question, yet you failed t…wait, I think I see one.
Aha, seems to me I have successfully misled you all. The chubby lil belly is still there. If you look closer, I’m the one in blue.
My dearest readers, do not get laid as George has suggested. He is only trying to trick you into sleeping with him.
Hikaru.