christy fantz
Christy Fantz

Dear Christy,

I really want to go to dance clubs with my girlfriends, but I'm white and have a flat ass and all of the songs are about apple-bottom jeans or shaking the booty your mama gave you but my mama was a 90-pound midget with no derriere whatsoever. Help!

--Flat and restless


Deflated duff:

I believe the PC term would be "little person," but if your mom is jiggy with you calling her "midget," then congratulations.

Pleasantries aside, just because you have a flat ass doesn't mean you can't dance. Well. I've never seen your booty pop, so I'm afraid I can't judge.

Speaking of booty pop, this annoying broad I am acquainted with at my local watering hole was demonstrating just that for me recently.

I don't know why.

I think Queens of the Stone Age was the background music. Not quite fitting, but she clearly had tutoring intentions while I was trying to watch SportsCenter. (Random people constantly engage in conversation with me. I look inviting, I guess.)

It was riveting.

After feigning interest, Ms. Ass Shake taught me a lesson: Brace your weight on an immobile object (both hands), and can get down and super shake what your mama gave you.

Or didn't give you, in your case.

After her sixth lesson, I busted into the robot dance because, well, that's the only dance I know how to do. Aside from an Irish jig of sorts.

Plus, she was annoying me so I wanted to make things sufficiently awkward.


You don't have to have a bubble butt to moooove and grooove. You just have to have rhythm.

Now go practice in a mirror. Throw on the Thong song and tear that place apart.

Your mom and I will be here waiting with bated breath.


Dear Christy,

My new sophisticated boyfriend has invited me to a swanky wine and cheese party at his coworker's house. I've never had a glass of wine in my life. How do I fake being a classy wine connoisseur so my boyfriend will think I'm the bee's knees?



Grapes of wrath:

Oh sugar. You're fired.

Get your ass to the liquor store and snag a cheap bottle of white -- Chardonnay or Pinot Grigio (not Reisling or Moscato, eeek, too sweet) -- and a bottle of cheap red -- Merlot or Cabernet Sauvignon.

Now taste them. Embrace them. Mouth fuck the hell out of them.

Read up on basic information on each red and white. (I hear Google is neat.)

With every sip you suckle at the fancy soiree, do not make sour faces. With white wines, say things like, "This tastes crisp. I'm savoring a citrus hint." Or with reds: "This is quite full-bodied with a spicy aroma."

If you need me, I'll be the one plowing through the cheese table with a bladder of wine tied around my waist.

Look, I'm just trying to distract the party from your lack of knowledge.

You're welcome.