I'm in for a Thanksgiving nightmare

Dear Doctor BS,

Let me start off by saying that I am not a heavy drinker. But on Halloween I was out with some friends, and the costumes were funny (I was a zombie clown - lots of makeup), the party was crowded, and the drinks were flowing. In short, I was soon a hammered zombie clown. So hammered that when my friend "Julia" (not her real name) asked me to come to Thanksgiving at her house, I said yes. What's the problem? Julia is the worst cook in the universe, and she's been taking cooking classes at the community college. Basically the problem is that I'm going to have to eat her food, and I'm scared.

PE

Dear PE,

Thanksgiving is a magical holiday of togetherness and gluttony. We gather with family and friends to give thanks and then eat a week's worth of calories in one sitting, often with an additional helping or two later, after watching some football and loosening the belt and sometimes unbuttoning the top button of the pants.

The simple solution to your problem is just to cancel. I have the feeling that you won't do so because despite her cooking you seem to want to keep Julia as a friend. There might be an excuse that she would accept. Food poisoning, for example, because no one wants the projectile vomiting guy at the table when they're using the good china. Of course, deliberately getting food poisoning to avoid bad food might not be what you're after either.

You could also take your chances and show up in hopes that she's gone with a potluck style dinner, making sure to eat the dishes brought by the more competent cooks.

But in the end, I think you need to get yourself out of this problem the same way you got in: alcohol. You said you're not a big drinker, but I'm sure you have an inappropriate uncle in your family who you can use as an example. Booze it up in the morning. Bring a few bottles of wine and/or liquor with you and insist on opening the first one the second you step in the door. Then commandeer the lazyboy and proceed to drink yourself into a stupor in front of the TV. By the time dinner is served they might not even want you at the table. If you're even still conscious.

Admit it, you dressed up as a zombie clown for a reason. Now let that inner zombie clown come out with your good friend alcohol.

Doctor BS

Help me be smooth with the ladies in the bar

Dear Doctor BS,

I have a well paid job, a fully funded 401(k), a high IQ and a full head of hair. As my mother likes to tell me, I'm a real catch. For some reason, when I go out I just can't seem to meet anyone. Heck, I don't even know what drink to order at the bar. I need some help with the ladies. Please advise.

NN

Dear NN,

Smart, hairy, and comfortable. Financially comfortable that is. It's clear that inside your heart of hearts, you're anything but comfortable. You want to be a man, but you know you're a weenie.

The drink says a lot about the man. A real man needs to know his drink.

Beer says you're not too bright, but you know what you like: sports and breasts.

A martini says you're still secretly wishing you'd turned out to be James Bond, and you're ready and willing to drink away that disappointment.

Wine says you're pretentious, feel sophisticated wearing a turtleneck, and might be gay.

Scotch says you like to enjoy the finer things in life... through a drunken haze if possible.

Tequila says you're not afraid to wake up in puddle of vomit.

But what is the drink for a weenie, wishing to be a man, and wishing to impress the ladies? Simple: order a Cuba libre NFL. When they ask what's NFL, tell them "No Fucking Lime." After uttering a cheesy line like that one, even a weenie will start to feel the inner glow of confidence that makes all the difference to the ladies. Next thing you know, you'll be sauntering up to some sweet thing and whispering in her ear, "My mother says I'm a real catch."

Keep on cheesing, drinking, and whispering. You'll get the hang of it.

Doctor BS