My Two Cents: Who are you? who who who who ed.

Dear Prudence,

An individual with the same name as mine has recently been in the news. A lot. For some not very nice things. It's not simply the supposedly "just joking" jibes from friends and co-workers I'm enduring. I'm not looking forward to going through the rest of my life guilty by association. Besides growing rhino skin or changing my name, how do I deal with this, other than repeating over and over that I am ...
—Not That Mark Foley

Dear Judge A Book By It's Pages, Not It's Title:

A tattoo on the forehead, dude. That's what it took for Adolph P. Hitler. Really though, the typical method is to add a middle initial to your moniker. Hopefully, your middle names are not Ignatius Matthew. It's unfortunate that you were not coincidentally named for an assassin. In those cases, it's the assassin who has to add his middle name to distinguish him from all the legit John Booths, Harvey Oswalds, and Mark Chapmans.

Mostly though, you just have to wait until it, er, blows over. You won't be mistaken for the randy rep of the GOP, but you will be, forever, associated with that scandal. The association won't be more than a crude comment by the insensitive and perhaps a slight facial tick by the more discreet, but no matter what, whenever you're introduced, illicit teen/man sex is going to flash, however briefly, in the mind of your new acquaintance. Just ask John Warren Gacy.

Dear Prudie,

Although I was raised in a Jerry Springer-type family, I have had the opportunity in my life to go to college and get a good job. Through a lot of luck, you could call me middle class now. My humble start has created some problems for me. Over time, I have tried hard to learn better manners and social skills, but I always feel uncomfortable and inadequate socially when I am with my colleagues and peers. However, I also don't feel I can entirely relate to people from my background and I feel terrible when I realize that I'm probably a snob. It's a conflict that extends not only professionally, but socially, romantically. I would probably be more comfortable with a simple small-town man, but I want someone who can fit in to my world. I believe I have the right to live my dreams, but I often feel that in pursuing them, I have moved into a life that is isolated and uncomfortable. I can learn many things, but I don't know how to learn the social skills I need, or how to be more comfortable or relate to people who were raised in such a different way, and I am tired of feeling like a fake.

—Torn Between Two Cultures

Dear Urban Miss:

You mean "white trash drunkards" instead of Jerry Springer-type", since it's a sure bet you weren't raised by promiscuous and abusive transsexuals being constantly separated by large bald men before a mob of hooting yokels. It seems that you are bemoaning the fate of the coolatto—"half cool/half blotto"—in which you don't fit anywhere.* But it's all b.s.—since everybody is a unique and flowering individual, everybody fits, sorta. Humanity is a collage, not a mosaic.

It may be that the main difference between your condo mouse friends and trailer mouse relatives is that the trailer mice already understand that. That's why they let it all hang out and dang the consequences—as opposed to the condo mice who judge, sneer, discriminate and segregate. It's not completely an accident that one group is always bailing out of jail and the other bailing out on you.

Or else, you're the only one fixated on this because you are so insecure you assume that you're being judged and sneered upon. That's most likely of all, since even condo mice generally turn out to be nice folks once you make the cut. But either way, you nailed it in the last part—you have a right to your dreams. Problem is, the achievement of dreams is normally an isolated and uncomfortable experience—it's a path you've selected that's frought with obstacles and almost always traveled alone. You can't have it both ways, otherwise everybody would be pursuing their dreams instead of getting drunk and watching t.v. on couch, like you-know-who.
-------------------------------------
* Warning: using the term "coolatto" in Mexican neighborhoods will be interpreted as a reference to your or someone's ass.

Dear Prudence,

I am a college freshman staying in a triple dorm room. My first few weeks have been fun, hanging out with my roommates and the friends we've made doing our respective activities. All was well until a mutual friend came to me and told me that my roommates had started coming up with schemes and ruses to ditch me when they do activities. I have since verified this through other means, including overhearing one of these planning sessions when they thought I was asleep. I'm confused and wondering what my next move should be; I'm in this room for the remainder of the year, since the university barely has enough housing to accommodate everyone in triples, so I can't switch rooms. My roommates both seem like good people who are fun to be around and I would want to continue hanging out with, a feeling that is apparently not shared. The nature of communal living means I can't just ignore them, a course of action I might otherwise have taken. Should I confront them, pretend to be aloof, or do something else?

—Confused in College

Dear Pariah Prep:

Talk about a Don Knotts moment! Why does it seem that the sound track of your life is mostly done in oboe and violin? Well, the correct answer here is hard to tell because of missing facts. Are you obnoxious in some sort of way? Are they a-holes deluxe? It's just not clear. If only MTC had a clue as to how heinous you or they may be!

If it be you, you could back off and modify that behavior until they start inviting you back. If it be they, then don't worry about haning out with them because, well, they're a-holes deluxe. Duh.

So, all's there is to say is take whatever you do around them-- talk, tic, twitch, bitch, preen or proselytize-- take it down a couple notches and alway have other plans. If they don't come around and be nicer after a few months, turn it back up and be yourself.

Dear Prudie,

I have a wonderful husband, but here's my problem: I'm high-strung and he has all sorts of nervous tics. When he reads or watches TV, he wiggles his leg or scratches his hair or eyebrows or picks at his cuticles or hums under his breath. We are in a completely negative dynamic where I'm always saying, "Please don't … [whatever]." He says that I won't let him breathe. I say that I can't relax with all this activity going on. I've tried hard to just to ignore it. I've suggested that he might ask his doctor whether these tics have a medical basis, but that just incenses him. Any advice on how to end this negative spiral?
—Want To Relax

Dear Tic or Bleat:

Meds. Lots of meds. Booze helps. Lots of booze. If you're constitution won't bear it, then get a bigger house with two bedrooms, two baths, extra kitchenette, and so on. If you're weak, and can't afford a big house, it'll have to be pistols at ten paces.

Lady, he's incensed not by asking the doctor, which just makes you look like an high strung shrew. It's the inference that, if you could, you'd drug him like some character in One Flew Over The Cuckoo's Nest. Dayum. If doodahman had Nurse Rached for a wife, he'd be a kaleidoscope of tics, too. Anyways….

The only way to change negative dynamics is, whenever you feel the urge to berate him, to envision the end of the cycle, much the way a drunkard or coke fiend will envision his wasted, penniless, craving carcass before falling off the wagon. You know how it usually ends-- with you, white knuckled and waiving a frying pan over his twitching head as he lays fetally on the floor of the utility closet, sucking his de-cuticled thumb. Then, you replace that initial urge to berate him with a automated, positive behavior that you have trained yourself, much like an attack dog, to perform under the same conditions. Like, oh, blow him. That'll take the tic right out of him.