I'm walkin' here, mommy issues &?after after-party

I'm walkin' here, mommy issues &?after after-party

Dear Rachel,

Urgent question about walking protocol. How should two people match their speeds? Should the speedwalker slow to the pace of the one who appreciates one’s surroundings? Or must the reasonable walker accelerate to the lanky sprint of the speedwalker? Oh wait, the question is suddenly less urgent, since I’ve lost my friend in the distance. But it would be good to know for next time.

– Left Behind

 

Dear Southpaw Buttcheek,

I always try to answer urgent questions first. The answer is, you let that friend disappear without a trace, and you look around for the people looking under rocks and admiring flowers and petting dogs tied up to bike racks. These are your people. You walk just as many miles as a speedwalker, but never in a straight line. Which is good. Means you get off the sidewalk for those of us trying to get somewhere already.

– Outta my way, Rachel


Dear Rachel,

My mother expects to be the first to know everything. Doesn’t matter if it concerns her. I could not tell her about my pickleball game against my best friend and she’ll feed me some guilt about excluding her, or that she could just be happy for me without feeling weird if I would just tell her up front. Oh, and I’m several decades into double digits. Tell me, R, should I just cut her out of my life right now, or wait until she dies someday?

– Mama Mia

Dear Mother Uecker,

You have some serious mommy issues that I recommend you work out with a therapist. Mommy issues are nowhere near as hot as daddy issues, at least as far as the general populace is concerned. Why is that, I wonder? Anyway, I’d love it if you sent me your headshot. I want to make sure I know to swipe left when I see you on Tinder and read how “family-oriented” you are.

– The motherlode, Rachel


Dear Rachel,

I am missing the Telegraph birthday party because of a drawn-out family emergency kind of thing in another state. Kind of bummed, kind of thinking I’m dodging the bullet that always hits me at the Ranch where I end up buying tequila shots for strangers and thinking I landed an invitation to an after party when suddenly I realize I’m on like Fifth Ave. all alone with no idea how I got there. Any chance we could do a Tele party part deux so I can jump in front of the bullet next time?

– Shot through the Heart

Dear You’re to Blame,

Absolutely, we can do a birthday bash part deux. Just give us 20 more years to forget anything the blackout doesn’t steal from us, wait for our neighbors (who might witness us) to move away or die, and find out if print media can really survive that long. In the meantime, you can practice by partying with people who walk the same pace as you when they leave so you quit getting lost.

– Giving love a bad name, Rachel

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