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August 3, 2006 Edition

Dear Max,

OK…so, I’m seeing this guy. At this point, I’m pretty sure he’s into me, but he hasn’t made a move on me in any way, shape, or form. Grrr. And, wouldn’t you know it, I HATE making the first move because I feel like I’ll make a mess of things! What do I do?

East Coast Lost Cause

Dear E.C.L.C.,

Sister, you’re talking my language. Especially the “Grrr” part. I don’t know why humans are so enamored of wanting people to “make moves.” My mommy’s best friend moved to New Jersey and since then nothing’s been the same. It’s also common knowledge that people hate to help their friends move, what with all the heavy lifting. So my question back to you would be: if he makes this move, how “flighty” are you? Because movers are always asking how many flights, and charging more for three flights and above.

Funny thing is, I received the same exact question from a guy! Think it’s your boy? Could be. You humans waste so much valuable time wondering and debating. I bet he is afraid to make a move for much the same reasons. You should take a cue from us dogs. Don’t think at all. Just give it a good sniff, wag your tail and hope nobody gets bit. (At least not too hard.)

If you were in 3rd grade you could just pass him a note in Social Studies class, ask him if he likes you and have him check the appropriate box. I say just text him on his Treo and see what he says. You can’t actually draw the box but the __ (shift key plus dash) will work in a pinch. Or sniff and wag. Your call.

In the meantime, you should order my Mom’s new book, Stupid and Contagious, available now through amazon.com (click here), bn.com, and fine booksellers everywhere. I’m not sure that will help you, but it may help me, so we’ll call it even.

Ciao Max:

This is Bianca here! How are you? I ordered your Mom’s book on Amazon and am waiting for it to arrive. I’m very excited to read it!

So, my question is this: Why do American girls wear flip flops everywhere?



Dear Bianca:

Currently it’s 110 degrees Fahrenheit (43.33 Celsius to you, my Italian friend) and people are wearing as few clothing items as they can. Nobody likes a sweaty foot, right? Blegh! So, in come the Flops. Flip Flops are stripped-down versions of footwear, like an accoustic number from your favorite band. “Manolo Unplugged,” if you will. Who doesn’t like to groove to a mellow version of a favorite song? There’s a theory that there are no new stories. Just new ways of telling them. Same goes for shoes: Flops were not born of American tradition but they’ve been around for a long time. We saw loads of happy Hawaiians running all over paradise in these simple skips, so we bought the whole state, just to score the flops.(Pretty good deal, and you know Americans LOVE a good clearance sale.) So we got the flops from the Hawaiians who’d bogarted them from the Japanese originally. Millions of happy, cool American tootsies followed.

But there are more practical applications too. God knows my sweet momma loves her some shoes. I calculate 35 pairs of shoes in her closet for every one embarrassing Max outfit in mine. A lot of them are Italian, just like you. But, in a pinch, when nature calls and I HAVE to be outside for some impending business, who has the time for Prada slingbacks? She can toss on the flops and we’re on the street in mere seconds, thus avoiding possible “accidents” in the elevator.

In conclusion as Jimmy Buffet reported from that same paradise, “Blew out my flip flop, stepped on a pop top, cut my heel, had to cruise on back home.” In short, without our flip-flops, we’re defenseless. So until someone comes up with a better idea for footwear/armor we’ll be flopping through life.

p.s. Thanks for ordering my mom’s book! You have excellent taste.

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