christy fantz
Christy Fantz

Dear Christy,

I always go snowboarding on the same mountain and this lift operator dude hits on me every single time I'm in line. I'm not interested, but I don't want to be a bitch because I love that hill. Should I snub him or just change mountains?

-- Snow girl



Is changing mountains like changing a diaper?

If it is, abort mission. It could be No. 2.

Yours truly doesn't take apart in the beloved snowsports, so I'm not a learned individual of the sorts.

However, here's what I do know: Everybody's doing it! (Bring your green hat.) Ergo, haven't the prices jacked up to stupid? Nowadays with a pass, you better get your sweet tushy on that hump at least two days a week (that's what someone said), otherwise spend your prize money elsewhere. (Like on my rent. Donations may be embraced with a hefty spoon session.)

A point, I shall find... (Bend over and I'll show you.)

Three options: Tell lift dude you don't want to suck his frozen pole; tell him your pants schedule is overcrowded from banging your lover; or suck it up like a groupie and plow the dude for a free pass.

The best things in life are free, so someone bring me a coffee. It's tired in here.



Dear Christy,

Do you ever watch the show "What Not to Wear"? Well, I'm dating this new girl and she dresses wretchedly. I'm a guy who grew up in an all-girl family and I am, myself, a metrosexual. Anyway, she's the best personality I've ever met and I would like to make this work, but she's quite the eyesore, threads-wise. Can I clean her up?




Didn't "metrosexual" take a dump in 2004?

Let me share this ripping-fine yarn: "Metro" long ago morphed to "hipster" -- where dudes squeeze into Sylvia Plath cardigans and broads wring into boat shoes.

I'm not judging, I'm just judging.

"Hipster" and "metrosexual" are stale. Let's bring "dandy" back.

OK, good talk.

Who doesn't love watching a makeover? Besides listening to that toothy Sicilian broad Stacy London blather about things that ache the ears, "What Not to Wear" is one of TLC's finest. The Learning Channel, where science grows like ganja and humility sprouts like mouse shit.

Mr. Dandy, don't get your botox in a bunch. Telling a girl she dresses wretched will wind you right up on the international Do Not Bang list, so take it easy.

You've got to massage us ladies' flimsy feelings (while also massaging our jugs.)

Unless you're one of those "metros" donning a pair of Mexican pointy boots (of the cowboy variety), then there's a good chance her friends are probably also in your boat (or botas) regarding her wretched attire.

Talk to her pals. Or have one of her girlfriends tell her to toss whatever it is that's ruffling your pleather chaps. Coming from them will be more comforting on a sensitive subject.

Now go fix your makeup, it's speared all up in your steampunk mustache.