Wayne Diamante, actor, director and best-selling author of DIY parenting books like Orphan Selection and Rearing Practices and the triple-platinum hardcover autobiography Poopy Diapers: Who Gives a Shit?, answers his readers’ questions in yet another installment of Pro-Tips with Wayne Diamante. Do you have a question, concern or grievance you’d like addressed in an online and/or print publication? Send it over to askwaynediamante@gmail.com and I will do my level best to tell you what your problem is.
Dear Wayne,
I’m writing to ask your advice regarding the crippling lack of self-confidence I suffer. I’m tired of being a doormat; I want people to pay attention to me, especially ladies. I want the success I know I could achieve if I could just overcome my insecurities. Any advice you can provide will be be greatly welcomed.
Sincerely,
Eugene
Dear Eugene,
Self-confidence can make all the difference in the world, just look at Julie Andrews in The Sound of Music. Fortunately, self-confidence is something you can foster without a passel of adolescent virtuosos. Besides, having that many kids around without some kind of licensure or accreditation is definitely a legal gray area. I recommend taking a series of impersonal baby-steps such as:
- Parting your hair on the opposite side
- When making table reservations, leave a cool last name like Ragnarok, Sitting-Bull or Steel. Nobody gives a rat’s ass about saving a table for Eugene Wiggins. Thighs get moist over private investigator Dr. Gene Night-Ranger, P.I., M.D., LSD.
- Call up your credit card company and demand a lower interest rate. Don’t take no for an answer. If customer service gives you static, ask to speak to a manager. Always speak to the manager.
You have to believe to achieve, Gene. You have to fake it until you make it. Gene, you have to shake it, but you must never, ever break it.
Peace,
Wayne
Dear Wayne,
I’ve just discovered my husband has been “sexy-texting” with a co-worker. I can only assume the worst. I feel so betrayed, what should I do?
Jane
Dear Jane,
I can relate completely. BTW, it’s called “sexting.” For my part, I recently discovered Velveeta is not naturally yellow; they fucking color it that way. Can you believe that shit?! Talk about betrayal. As an ethnic American, I find this abuse of my food-like, cheese-substance sensibilities completely unconscionable. I’ve contacted a dozen senators, my state representatives and the customer relations department at Velveeta. Not only have I been ignored and verbally maltreated, I have yet to receive closure in a satisfactory or monetarily compensatory sort of way. You’d think I could at least parlay my outrage into a coupon or free sample—but, sadly, no. I wish I had a better answer for you Jane, but like you, I’ve come to learn the world is full of crushing disappointment, duplicity and assholes.
Remarkably,
Wayne
