christy fantz
Christy Fantz

D ear Christy,

I've got the blues bad. I'm sick of winter. My man is trying to pull me out of my funk, but I just can't shake this. These flu remnants aren't helping either. Can I just sleep until May?

--Blue

SAD:

Yes.

Can I spoon you 'til May?

Gripes, it's like a goddamn tundra drenched with germs out there. Germs that, mind you, infected our lungs in September, beat the shit out of our white blood cells October through December, until this recent flu epidemic decided to prance in all haughty.

"Look at me. I'm the flu. I'm the worst in years. Let's make out."

Asshole.

So, I loud and hear you, homegirl, just like you're under the electric blanket with me. (Get out woman. Husband, Saint Bernard, Great Pyrenees and petite lil' me puts us over capacity.)

Seasonal affective disorder (SAD), i.e., the winter blues, is a common slump many of us experience. The combination of cold weather, little sun, short days, cold germs gangbanging flu germs and less outdoor activity = stupid.

Pros have recommended anything from light therapy to antidepressants, but I'm going to give you the Fantz in Your Pants remedy.

Firstly, we live in Colorado. It's not South Bend, Ind. -- I grew up in a magical place where the backyard September snow fort is still erect in late April. (You're erect.)


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That dusting of snow Colorado got Sunday? Gone.

You need some vitamin D. Instead of snoozing until 3 p.m., try waking up earlier and take a walk while the sun's still out. Some experts say the Colorado sun isn't enough in the winter to soak up the D, but a walk will do you some good.

You need a change. Instead of watching the "Teen Mom" marathon, get your ass out of the house and go bowling.

You need a boost. Instead of weeping alongside ASPCA commercials, go mingle with friends who make you laugh.

I, of course, will not take any of my own advice. I'm going to go cry into some whiskey and have wet dreams of Hawaii.

Dear Christy,

I don't like wearing condoms because they suck. But I like having sex. Why do girls get all pissed off and assume it's the dude's job to be protected?

-- Let me squirt

Classy:

Boy, aren't you the charmer. Why some buxom broad hasn't snatched you up is beyond me.

There are many forms of protection, but it's not my job to educate you -- it's my job to berate you.

DO NOT EVER assume: a girl is on birth control; you are impermeable to crabs; you don't have HPV; your swimmers are dysfunctional sans floaties.

You have to be responsible -- be up front with your lays. Tell them you don't like condoms.

Then admire that sweet ass as it struts away from you.

Kidding. But see if there is a safe option that she is comfortable with. Do something. Don't spread your mouth sores all over town.

And go get tested. We can only imagine what's sprouting in those drawers.