by Branden Hart
I have recently entered the homebuying arena. Unfortunately, every time I think I have made a good decision, I get unsolicited advice from friends and family which puts doubts and fears into this already scary experience. I would love to be the "dutiful daughter" or the "subservient sister" and listen and follow their advice. However, I doubt that this advice is really in my best interest or is even feasible given my current financial situation. Now, I am asking you, what should I do?
Thanks in advance, Harried Homebuyer.
Thanks for the note. Buying a home is a hard task, which is not made any easier by people who won't mind their own business. It reminds me of the story of Fat Freddy Frog, who used to live in Blue Lake west of Big Tree, in Deep Forest. One day in autumn, long ago, when nomadicElvis-impersonating transvestites roamed freely in the Grasslands outside of Deep Forest, Freddy Frog was getting ready for the winter by digging a hole in the bottom of the lake, where he could hibernate until spring. On the first morning of digging the hole, he kept having to come up to take breaks, because of what a fat frog he was.
"Fat Freddy Frog!" laughed Maven Mayfly, "you're so fat you can't even dig your winter hole without running out of breath! Why don't you quit eating for awhile and try to quit being so freaking fat!"
Panting, Freddy Frog said, "I did not ask for your advice, nor do I need it, thank you very much."
The next morning, Freddy Frog couldn't bring up the mud from his hole as quickly as he needed to, because he had not exercised in years and had little strength.
"Fat Freddy Frog!" laughed Maven Mayfly, "you're so weak you can't even bring up all the mud you need to get out of the hole you're digging for the winter! Why don't you go to the gym and try to bulk up some, you little wimp!"
Huffing and puffing, Freddy Frog said, "I did not ask for your advice, nor do I need it, thank you very much."
The following morning, Freddy Frog had finally finished his hole. He sat on his lilly pad, waiting for unsuspecting bugs to come by so he could eat them and get even more fat before hibernating for the winter. But every time one came by, he moved too slowly and missed it.
"Fat Freddy Frog!" laughed Maven Mayfly. "You're so slow you can't even get dinner for yourself! Why don't you just go on and hibernate--you're fat enough as it is!"
"I did not ask for your advice, nor do I need it, thank you very much."
"You can't even catch me if I'm in front of your face!" teased Maven Mayfly as he buzzed around Freddy's head. But Maven was wrong. Fueled by anger and years of being laughed at and teased, Freddy Frog concentrated as hard as he could. In a split second, his tongue darted out of his mouth and caught Maven in midair. He pulled his tongue back into his mouth and smiled, Maven's fluttering wings tickling him.
"Please don't eat me!" yelled Maven, still stuck to Freddy's tongue. "I promise, I won't give you any more unsolicited advice!"
"Oh, I'm not going to eat you," said Freddy. "I've got something much more important planned for you."
That evening, Freddy settled into his winter hole for a long, deep sleep. In several months, he woke up, stretched, shook the mud from his slimy skin, and looked to his right. There, mangled, wingless, with a look of absolute horror on his face, was the body of Maven Mayfly, held down by a small pebble, just as Freddy had left him. Freddy never told anyone what horrible, wonderful things he had done to Maven that autumn. By the time he resurfaced from hibernation, the animals who didn't hibernate had already begun guessing what had happened to Maven.
"I heard he was in love with Craig Caterpillar and couldn't bear it when Craig died so he killed himself!" said Percy Porcupine.
"Well, I heard that he got caught up in a heroin ring and left Deep Forest to get into gay porn to support his habit," said Mom Fox.
But only Fat Freddy Frog new the awful truth. Only he knew the terror Maven experienced in the last hours of his life. Only Freddy knew exactly how to make a mayfly scream for forgiveness by inserting various objects into his tiny mayfly rectum. But he never told anyone how to do it (unless, of course, they asked him first).
The moral of the story is: ignore unsolicited advice and just do what you think is best. One day, all those pompous assholes will get what they have coming to them.
Good luck with your new abode!
Uberchief did not participate in any blood orgies in the making of this post.