John Hodgeman accidentally gives real advice in the mostly-humor column
1. Ryan writes: I was in a crowded grocery store when I heard a person call out, “Marco!” to their child. I instinctively responded, “Polo!” The person seemed annoyed and sarcastically replied, “Like we’ve never heard that one before,” then walked away, presumably to find their child. I was only trying to bring joy into the world!
I’m sitting in a busy coffee shop as I write this. While I was contemplating your case, a woman asked if she could take the seat across from me. Sensing an opportunity, I said, “Absolutely not!” Ha-ha! Boy, did that bring down the house! It didn’t. Because even though I immediately smiled and said, “Of course you may,” it was still confusing and destabilizing to a person who was, after all, just trying to go about her morning. Now imagine how she would feel if her son was missing in a grocery store! Anyway, as soon as another seat opened up, she got away from me as quickly as possible — as will others in your life, until you learn the world is not your improv stage.
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2. Daniel writes: My brother insists on using Johnson’s Baby Shampoo, saying there’s no reason adults can’t enjoy the “gentle to the eyes” experience. I say that now that he’s 26 and off our parents’ insurance, it’s time for him to graduate to adult shampoo. Who is right?
You wrote to the wrong judge. I used baby shampoo well into my 20s, and I honestly don’t know why I switched. I suspect I was lured by labels with cosmopolitan typefaces and empty promises to thicken my wispy, pathetic baby hair. But in any case, it has never worked! My hair is still thin, childish and deserving of the gentle wash that baby shampoo affords. Your brother can do what he wants because, as you point out, he is a grown-up. If you don’t like it, get out of his shower, weirdo. Sorry to be harsh, but you’re being a bully, not a brother, and you can be sure: When I next shower, I shall shed no tears for you.
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I’m sitting in a busy coffee shop as I write this. While I was contemplating your case, a woman asked if she could take the seat across from me. Sensing an opportunity, I said, “Absolutely not!” Ha-ha! Boy, did that bring down the house! It didn’t. Because even though I immediately smiled and said, “Of course you may,” it was still confusing and destabilizing to a person who was, after all, just trying to go about her morning. Now imagine how she would feel if her son was missing in a grocery store! Anyway, as soon as another seat opened up, she got away from me as quickly as possible — as will others in your life, until you learn the world is not your improv stage.
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2. Daniel writes: My brother insists on using Johnson’s Baby Shampoo, saying there’s no reason adults can’t enjoy the “gentle to the eyes” experience. I say that now that he’s 26 and off our parents’ insurance, it’s time for him to graduate to adult shampoo. Who is right?
You wrote to the wrong judge. I used baby shampoo well into my 20s, and I honestly don’t know why I switched. I suspect I was lured by labels with cosmopolitan typefaces and empty promises to thicken my wispy, pathetic baby hair. But in any case, it has never worked! My hair is still thin, childish and deserving of the gentle wash that baby shampoo affords. Your brother can do what he wants because, as you point out, he is a grown-up. If you don’t like it, get out of his shower, weirdo. Sorry to be harsh, but you’re being a bully, not a brother, and you can be sure: When I next shower, I shall shed no tears for you.
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2. When I was four, I got shampoo in my eyes and didn't open them again for a day and a half. My parents were, you might say, a little bit unnerved. I required their help, or that of my older sister, until nearly middle school to wash my hair without getting soap in my eyes, something they obliged without complaint because they never wanted to go through that again. Which just goes to show that my older sister was more mature at the age of seven than LW apparently is as a so-called adult. Grown-ups do not criticize how other people wash their hair, or eat their food, or generally live their lives. It doesn't exactly affect anybody else, now does it?
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"hey, the fragrance of your shampoo gives me a migraine, do you think you could use a different product if you're visiting my house/working at the desk next to me at the office, I would really appreciate it, thanks."
unless it's causing genuine issues, it's no one's business
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I’m going to hazard a guess that Daniel’s own choice of personal care products runs to SPORT, TURBO, FRESH, and black or camo packaging.
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But no, our solution was to fold up several layers of washcloths and carefully place them over my eyes, with some more over the rest of my face as the hair was rinsed. Something I continued to do on my own for a while after I started doing my own hair!
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I just checked amazon and it's still available, heh.
https://www.amazon.com/Skip-Hop-Tear-Free-Waterfall-Rinser/dp/B00FXR5S20/
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…the world is not your improv stage.
Corollary: your fellows do not exist to be straight people in your ongoing ambush comedy routine.
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yeah, I've done that instinctively, and I don't get defensive about it, because I'm wrong and I know it. Not with someone named Marco, but with similar names. I apologize! I did it once in college, which was more than 30 years ago, and I'm still ashamed of it.
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"thanks, gorgeous" to a cashier
because I was wrapped up in thinking about the person (S) I was about to have a date with in less than an hour, who I referred to as "gorgeous.
It was embarrassing at the time, but it wasn't on purpose,
and if psychology research tells us anything, it's that most humans make this kind of mistake accidentally at some point.
(A friend of mine in high school accidentally called her French/German language teacher "Mum" once in front of the whole class, which C found very embarrassing.)
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Instead, LW goes on to say they were "only trying to bring joy into the world." Telling a joke isn't instinct. If someone can't cope with being told they're not funny, they shouldn't be cracking jokes to strangers in the supermarket.
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2. "I am definitely the boss of my sibling's personal care products, and that's not at all a weird thing to want."
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LW1: if you can think of a name-related joke, at least a dozen of your fellow wits already did.
LW2: Who does your brother's choice of shampoo harm?
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/s for the above of course.
(More seriously, I wonder if LW secretly would prefer gentle shampoo but has been denying it because it's For Babies, and he's doing the crabs-in-a-bucket thing.)
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No supposedly teaseproof name, ever, withstands the collective imagination of the playground.
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"I was only trying to bring joy" for one thing negates the "instinctively" thing, but also is a lie. LW wanted to get a laugh. Or maybe a smile, especially if other adult was female. But the heart of it is making fun of a kid's name, and providing an unnecessary distraction to someone worried their kid is missing.
(I've done the "No! Okay, yes" thing, but only with friends who I know will see it as a joke.)