overly jealous

Well, damn. Why don’t you just keep him in a pet cage? Ain’t it possible for women and men to just be friends? You think dudes would just bang their women friends? HELL YES THEY WOULD!

What keeps it from happening? WELL QUITE OBVIOUSLY it’s the women! No doubt the vast majority of male/female friendships haven’t crossed that line because the WOMAN hasn’t said YES. Yet.

So how do you keep it from happening? You’re doing the right thing. Make friends with the female friends. Get to know them, make them adore you. If that don’t make ya feel secure, instill a general sense of GREAT INSTABILITY. Scare the fuck outta them. Carry a switchblade comb. Hell, carry a switchblade, too. Accidentally pull out the blade and start to comb your hair with it.

I always liked to befriend the female friends of girls I dated. Know why? NOBODY TALKS SHIT LIKE A PISSED OFF BEST GIRLFRIEND! No need to go searching for what went wrong! Sooner or later, she’s gonna piss off her best girlfriend and you’re gonna get a fuckin’ earful! You’re gonna learn that bitch wears false teeth ’cause she’s lost all of her teeth but FOUR! You’re gonna get so disgusted, you’re not gonna even give a shit about why she dumped you anymore.

If they are making you so jealous, yo’ ass must be feeling insecure. So just what you feeling so goddamned insecure about? One of them hoochies got a better car? Better job? Bigger tits? Better at oral sex? None of those really mean that fucking much. (With the exception of that last one, which commands universal consideration).

Maybe your ass has been through hell and back, but what really matters is does it feel right? That shit is unexplainable, but it trumps everything. Can we have just as much fun watching goddamned antenna tv as we can going to fuckin Disneyland? We just want this shit to be as easy as possible. That’s what matters to us. That and a killer BJ, and we’re yours forever. Oh, and we don’t wanna hear any bitching about our friends.

Now leave me the fuck alone.

Here’s my dilemma: Currently my life is okay. I’m 24, earned a Bachelor’s degree, have a job which I don’t mind too much that pays well and live with my family while I’m paying off my student loans (under 10K). However, as much as I love my parents and my brother, sometimes I would rather put a fork in my eye than be there. Additionally, I’m constantly travelling for socialization, for gigs (I’m a musician) and just to get out. Therefore, I was wondering if it might be more-cost effective and sanity-inducing to just bite the bullet and move out. The problem, though, is that I’m indecisive. If I move out, I might just want to move to a different city, somewhere closer to the ocean. But I’m just beginning to develop interesting relationships with the musicians in this town. Plus, I can’t manage my money to save my life.

What should I do?

Fondly,
is the grass really greener?

Moving back in with the parents. Nothing like it. I did that once. Never fucking again. Nothing like ma treating your ass like you’re 15 all over again. “Murray, you gotta do this and you gotta do that and how come you don’t have a girlfriend? ARE YOU GAY? Listen, I know this nice girl I can fix you up with. She had gonorrhea, but don’t tell her I told you that.” Thanks, ma. Always looking out for me!

Hell, I just spent several days with my family, so this shit is all fresh in my mind. It took everything I’ve got not to strangle the living shit out of every single one of my family members on Christmas Eve.

I’m a firm believer in focusing on what you want and going after it. If you don’t fucking at least try, you’ll have nothing but a bunch of what ifs. I was talking to this dude once in a bar in a small Midwestern town. He was going on and on about how he wanted to be a musician more than anything. “So why don’t you move the fuck out of this little town where you can pursue your dreams?” “naaaaahhh… i like it here.” It dawned on me. People like to talk about all the shit that they wanna do in life, but they’re too fucking petrified to just do it. I quit my job two days later, and I was out of the midwest within 3 weeks.

So, what’s it gonna be? You gonna talk shit or do shit?

Now leave me the fuck alone.

I met the nicest guy, and all I can think about is “oh, how cute. He won’t last long.” What is wrong with me?!

PS Well, the cock MIGHT be nice, I just dunno if I want it hanging around too long (no pun intended, I assure you)

Whoever said nice guys don’t win hasn’t been fucking reading Dear Murray lately. The nice guys are getting ALL the fuckin action up in this place. Are you people taking notes? MURRAY IS A NICE GUY, TOO! Can’t ya fucking tell? And I’m getting freaky more than R. Kelly at a middle school dance.

The problem is this. I hear women tell me all the fucking time “I want a guy to treat me nice. I’m tired of so-and-so doing this-and-that.” Shut the fuck up already. If you’re tired of mothafuckas treating you like shit, dump the fucker already. It’s that fucking easy. It’s much easier to dump that motherfucker than to remove my boot tread from your cheek. Because if you keep whining to me about it, that’s what’s gonna fucking happen. It’s a simple equation. If you date an asshole, and he continues to be an asshole, and you stay, then YOU LIKE ASSHOLES. ACCEPT IT. Take yoga if you have to in order to deal with it. BECOME ONE with the universe of being an asshole-lover.

Oh, right. Nice guys. Just tell the motherfucker up front. It’s really not hard to say “i can’t deal with anything serious.” “I just wanna hang out and have sex.” Shit like that is golden. Trying to interpret signs and actions is fucking annoying. When you keep silent out of trying to spare someone’s feelings, you’re fucking up yourself and the other person. I guarantee if you tell him exactly what’s up, he will go for it in a fucking heartbeat.

Now leave me the fuck alone.

Just recently, I have broken up with a long-term boyfriend due to issues we could not work out. However, we became very close with another couple while dating. Since the break up, the couple has been distant and awkward around me, although I never speak about the ex or the breakup. I told them I do not want them in the middle, so I never bring up the subject b’c I respect that they are still friends with him. They had a party, however, I did not attend because the ex was going to be there, and didn’t want to feel uncomfortable or cause drama. So instead of them having to pick, I just bowed out. Since this incident, the guy has been very upset with me. I have never cared much for him, however, he’s very controlling with his girlfriend and fear he will make her break our friendship. What do you suggest I do?
-torn in tinseltown

TELL ME IF I’m reading between the lines here correctly, but… “very close” means partner-swapping, don’t it? Now they cutting you off, ’cause you’re de-partnered and then someone’s gonna get jealous? Um. Are you all like 17 or something? Christ. I’ve slept upstairs at the home of my ex-wife and her new husband, and I really couldn’t give a shit what they were doing. Better him than me, ya know?

So then, if you pick weak friends who do whatever their boyfriend tells them to, then you’re pretty much fucked from the start. Ya know what Murray would tell her? To borrow a line from my favorite comic: Now get the fuck out! Go clean your huz-bins asshole or something!!

Maybe you’re just jealous that you can’t do the same any longer.

Now leave me the fuck alone.

when i was 11 i started getting these visits every month. my insides begin spilling and i need to plug myself with them cotton/rayon blends they call tampons.

Less Absorbing

Date won’t go there when the river’s flowin’, eh? I would trade bleeding a few days a month for the freedom of mouth that comes with it. Seriously, you fucking have license during PMS to say whatever the fuck you want, and everyone else is supposed to dismiss it. OH GOD I WANNA CUT OFF YOUR DICK AND MAKE PIGS IN BLANKETS FROM IT–whoops, sorry, PMS. teehee. I want that kinda freedom! Shit, if you think Murray’s a wiseasshole now, just you wait! Put my cranky, bloated ass in line at the DMV and we’re gonna see some motherfuckin’ shit go down! OH LISTEN TO ME BITCH! YOU GONNA TAKE MY PHOTO AGAIN AND YOU’RE GOOONNA MAKE ME PRETTY! NO YOU DID-NT!

Ahh, fuck. Why you want it to stop? You trying to put up some pleasant front and shit? Fuck that, that ain’t real. Just grab your date by the ears and say something like IF YOU TALK ABOUT YOUR EX ONE MORE TIME I’m gonna wedge the apple from your martini in your fuckin’ anus! ‘Cause that shit is real. Guys like real.

Now leave me the fuck alone.

My boyfriend and I have been having this argument. He’s always forgetting to bring condoms, and he tells me that I’m responsible for birth control. I think he should share in the responsibility. Can you help us out?
-Maggie

You do realize that this argument is gonna be about as fucking fruitless as the lowering of the toilet seat argument, right? Sure, the fucker should ante up for some condoms and all if he wants to taste the sweetness, but really. You should have it no fucking matter what! Think about it. You’re gonna be too fuckin busy arguing that you’re not gonna notice when some serious shit goes down. “YOU KNOW WHAT you motherfucker! I’m sick of you not buying condoms! I’ll show you! I’ll-i’ll-i’ll just fuckin get pregnant! watch me!” By all means. You’re the one that has to carry that shit in your belly.

Then you can argue with the baby over WHOSE RESPONSIBILITY it is to STOP FUCKING WHINING and LEAVE MURRAY the fuck alone.

Do you think there is an inverse relationship between self-esteem and motivation? Are people who are happy with themselves less driven to improve, and therefore less likely to accomplish great things, or does a healthy mental attitude equip one better for success?
-Fighting off contentment

Comfort is a fucking poison. There’s something to be said for the struggle. I hate to quote Hollywood here, but fuck. You have to hit bottom if you’re ever going to make it to the top. Let me tell you about rock bottom. After Murray moved to LA, he got a job in a Korean sweatshop/prepress lab. After four weeks of mutual hatred for each other (sweatshop owner tells Murray on Friday nights at 6 p.m. that he is supposed to work Saturday at 7 a.m., Murray says “FUCK NO”) they fired me. After seven months of unemployment and the occasional freelance gig, I was staring at rock bottom. Unemployment was running out, I had no car or friends, and to top it all off, I’d given myself a haircut and completely fucked that whole experiment. My mama came to visit, and I was considering going back home with her, but she said the exact wrong fucking words to me. “Murray, come home to Normal. It’s OK if you fail. Everyone fails.” I took a swig off my beer, looked her in the eye and said “the only way I’m coming home is in a body bag.” (Ma starts crying here). That night, I went to the sweatshop and took a big piss in their mail slot. I decided I was gonna do this, and I was gonna do this my way. Now you can see the sexy beast I’ve evolved into before you.

The problem is with parents. They don’t teach their kids to strive to change the fucking world. They just want a couple of grandkids to play dress up with, and have holiday cookouts. It doesn’t matter your socio-economic background. It’s a matter of learned drive, by example. If you ever tell your kid “it’s ok to fail”, FUCK YOU. You don’t deserve to be a parent.

Now leave me the fuck alone.

I want to get out of this small town, and move to a big city. NYC, Chicago, and LA all look good, but I can’t decide. Which do you prefer?
-Born in a Small Town

This is a very simple question. What’s your personality type? Murray did a test with cabbies in each of three cities, and here are the scientific results: (pick the style that fits your own)

Los Angeles:
Murray: Hi.
Cabbie: Hey, Buddy, where you from? What do you do? Can I make any money at it?

Chicago:
Murray: Hi.
Cabbie: Hey, where ya from, what ya do, when ya leaving??

New York
Murray: Hi.
Cabbie: Hey, who da fuck do you think you are?

I hope this is extremely helpful with your life decisions. Now leave me the fuck alone.

Lady, you ain’t never heard creepy. Once, when I was in about sixth grade, me and my friends were walking to school. We always stopped and picked up this other friend, we’ll call him Victor. So, we get there, and Victor’s still pissing around in the shower, so we gotta hang out in the living room with his dad. Victor’s dad looks sorta like a cross between Grizzly Adams and Jabba the Hut. He’s got a stack of porn on his dresser that requires fucking dewey decimal filing. So, it’s about 7:30 in the morning, and Vince’s dad is PISS DRUNK. He throws a copy of Playboy onto the table and says “HEEEEEEY BOYS, LOOKATDAT!” Now, where I’m from, none of this behavior is that far out of the ordinary. Then he looks off at the sky like he’s about to fill our impressionable young minds with precious wisdom and says “Boys, you know, sometimes I’m cleaning the ladies’ restroom at (fictitious restaurant name to protect the innocent) CARL’S SR., and I’ll find a pubic hair on the toilet, and I’ll stick it up to my nose and jerk off right there.”

So don’t tell me about creepy, lady. They might creep you out, or in Murray’s case, scar you for life, but the reality is that motherfucker is fucked beyond help for life. Find solace in that.

Now leave me the fuck alone.

You’re off on the right foot. Every self-aware person needs a good tranny telling them what to do. Just make sure you never, ever forget the reacharound! He/she will grab you by the ears and fuck your life hard if you forget that.

Are you knocking poets? I’ll have you know I’m a licensed practitioner of the poemetry. At the very least, you could use some of the practice at slowing the fuck down withtherunonsentences it would give you.

Have you read the Bhagavad Gita, ya hippie? In it, Arjuna gets all whiny “OH KRISHNA, KRISHNA, I can’t go to war. Killin’ is wrong!” Krishna smacks the whiny little bitch around and tells him he’s being selfish. “If he wasn’t your cousin, you woulda already stabbed him and fucked the wound, so shaddup, ya pussy!” My sanskrit is a little rusty, though, so I’m paraphrasing.

ANYDAMNEDHOW. It’s the same with good deed doing. Good deed doing has become pretty fucking pointless. Yeah, yeah, yeah. You did something for someone. You want a fucking medal? YES. Everyone wants the goddamned medal. Feeding the homeless is a ripe (in more ways than one) opportunity for press! WE ARE SUPPOSED TO DO GOOD! HALP PEOPLE! Bullshit. We don’t have to do a goddamned thing but eat, drink, shit, watch football and die.

Would anyone be doing good for anyone else if it weren’t for the medals and keys to the city and the GENUINE Kodak moments and the tax breaks and the great Nobel circle jerk? Highly doubtful.

Anyhow, quit your fucking whining and worrying about what you should be or wanna be or coulda been. If you feel like doing something, do it. If you don’t, don’t. Just don’t get caught up in all that IF I DO THIS WHAT WILL IT GET ME bullshit. Then, you’ll be just another empty cocksucker, like the rest of them.

Now leave me the fuck alone.