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Dear Sars,

Thank you, thank you, a thousand times thank you to you and Smiling On The Inside! I too have the rather calm, serious, apathetic demeanor and am often told to “smile,” which results in a fake cheerleader smile and me muttering “bite me” under my breath.
I share an office with Miss Merry Sunshine, who recently told me that, partially because I don’t smile, I’m hostile and drive people away. After a half hour of silence, she wanted to “talk about it” and informed me because of my demeanor, people (she) think I’m unhappy with my job and generally an unhappy person.

My boss, who is much like I am and has said as much, understands that I’m not a smiley person. Do I bother worrying about Miss Merry Sunshine’s perception of me and how far it goes? Do I talk with my boss again and ensure he knows that I am happy (as happy as I get) here?

Thanks,
Not unhappy, just not smiling

You seem to know a lot about cats, so here’s hoping you can extend some of
that love over to the pups.

I’ll start you with a (very) little backstory. I have had an English
Bulldog (Mona) for more than four years. When I got her (from a
rescue) she was over eight years old and had been beaten, bred, and not
looked after for her entire life. She was a complete bitch, which is
probably why I loved her so damn much. The boyfriend at the time and I
already had one bulldog, and I decided that I didn’t want another puppy so
Mona was perfect for us. Alas, dogs (thankfully) last longer than
relationships, so I was sent packing with the “non-registered” bulldog.
Whatever. I loved her more than I ever thought possible (as I still love
the puppy, Mildred, even after not seeing her for the last few years).

Mona passed away a little over two weeks ago. To make matters even worse, I
was out of the country when it happened (think guilt, and then multiply that
emotion times nine). She was lovingly taken care of by my best friend, so I
have no doubt that it was as painless a departure as possible.

Here starts the problem: I got the ashes back a few days ago and don’t know
what the hell to do with them. I am not a religious person, well, at all,
but I do believe that remains should be treated with the utmost respect.
Friends have suggested that I spread the ashes at one of her favorite
places, but come on — bulldogs live for about eight years and she was over
twelve; she didn’t move enough to really have a favorite location. The
only place I can think of is the bodega around the corner from home where
she got her daily banana, but I don’t think the owners would be too happy
with me scattering a dead dog over their produce.

To be honest, at this point I kind of like having her in my house on the
table where I can see her at all times. The problem is that my friends are
starting to get worried about the mini-shrine that I’ve got going. Is this
wrong? Should I spread the ashes someplace I love even if Mona never got
the chance to go there? I think it’s wrong to put her on a shelf in the
closet, so I’ve got to do something. Any ideas?

Chris

First off, you rock. And since you give pretty sensible advice, I thought
I’d see what your opinion is on my current aggravating situation. (Apologies
for length.)

The background info: I’m 27, a grad student, and have been living with a
terrific guy for over two years. We’ve got a great relationship, tons in
common, he loves my cats, et cetera. We also have one really important thing in
common: neither of us ever wants to have kids. We’re so certain of this that
he’s got an appointment lined up for a vasectomy.

The problem is my mother. I love my mom dearly, as she’s normally a funny,
smart, rational woman. There is one subject, however, that’s guaranteed to
turn her into a raving madwoman who bears no resemblance to the woman who
raised me. That subject is babies. She simply adores babies, and thinks all
women feel the same. I don’t actively dislike kids, but I’ve never been very
interested in them, either. I’ve told my mother repeatedly that parenthood
just isn’t for us. She takes this as a huge affront. Lately, our every
conversation revolves around how hurt and betrayed she feels because she’ll
never have grandchildren. She keeps practicing this weird form of grandchild
extortion, i.e. “If you really loved me, you’d make me a grandma.” She keeps
telling me that we’ll change our minds, that I’ll regret not becoming a
mother, and how could I do this to her, blah blah blah martyr-cakes.

I keep
trying to explain how I feel, that I’d be absolutely miserable with kids,
that it’s just not going to happen, no way, no how…but it’s like talking
to a brick wall. She just Does Not Get It. She’s even taken to sending me
books about pregnancy, and constantly points out cute kids when we’re out in
public, in hopes of jumpstarting my maternal instinct. This is making me
seriously nuts.

My boyfriend suggests just telling her to butt out, which
would work if she actually freakin’ listened to a word I had to say about
the subject. I don’t want to cut my mom out of my life over this issue, but
this is getting out of hand. We’ve always had a pretty good relationship,
but this issue is really driving a wedge between us. Is there any possible
way I can get her to respect my choices and stop with the grandchildren
thing already?

Not Mommy Material

I am having an Intense Hatred Issue, and I hope you can help. See, this guy I dated five years ago (hereafter known as “Dude”) has become my freakin’ shadow. I don’t mean “shadow” as in “stalker” — I mean he’s being a copycat. Here are a couple of Big Examples:

1. Last New Year’s Eve, I threw my parents a surprise 30th anniversary party. It was an incredible bash (printed invitations, black tie optional, Real New York Cheesecake — the whole nine yards) with their closest friends. Everyone left saying that they “had never been to a better New Year’s Eve party” and telling my parents that I was “an absolute angel.” Well, less than a month later, Dude’s brother informed my brother that Dude was throwing HIS parents a 25th anniversary party. His was on a slightly different scale (early evening punch and cookies in our church’s cultural hall), but he was lauded among my parents’ friends as the Best Guy Ever. Aargh.

2. It has taken me five years, but I will finally graduate this spring with my BBA. However, my dream has always become a Massage Therapist. Instead of going straight to massage therapy school, I thought, “What the heck — I’ll get a ‘real’ degree and then go after that. I may need something to fall back on in the future.” I have been working full-time and going to school full-time at night so I can save up enough money to afford my tuition — massage school is dreadfully expensive. Well, last September, Dude asked me what my plans after graduation were. I made the mistake of telling him, and guess what he did? Yep — Dude went to massage therapy school. THE school I wanted to go to. Moved in with MY friends (who let him live for free — he never offered to pay room and board) one week later and started school in October. Then, Dude dropped out in December, flew 3000 miles back to his parents’ house, and had the roomies ship all his belongings to him — at their expense. Now, all the old people around — you know, the ones who always ask what you’re doing with your life and give you an empty card for birthdays and graduations — keep asking, “Well, will you be able to stick it out? You know, [Dude] had a hard time.” SO WHAT?!? I am NOT Dude.

These are just a couple of the big reasons I can’t stand the guy…there are too many little examples to count, like when he never having enough money to pay when we were dating. Don’t ask me to a fancy restaurant if you can’t pay at least your half.

Anyway, I confronted him. Told him he really pissed me off, and he needed to leave me alone forever. As it turns out, Dude has been on all these prescribed anti-depressants lately, and the whole talk just wooshed over his head. He said he was “sorry…but [he] really [didn’t] know what [he was] apologizing for.”

Dude is in Orlando now, but I still can’t get away from his fam until I move in August. (I am living with my parents until I graduate so I can have the massage school tuition saved up — they can’t afford to help me financially.) Every time I see his parents at church or at the gym or at my parents’ house, they tell me everything Dude is doing and berate my parents until they have the entire the scoop on my life — information I’m sure they are passing along to him. How can I make Dude leave me the —- alone? How do I get over my hate for Dude, without maiming him?

Sincerely,
Tired Of Being The Nice Girl