2 Cents is a new column on New Raleigh, although it may be familiar to many of our readers. Remember The Raleigh Hatchet? Every month I would pick it up and flip directly to the last page to read 2 Cents, the witty and sometimes racy advice column. Topics ranged from sex and relationships to bar etiquette, from work place grievances to the subtle nuances of how to pronounce Iraq. Recently I came across an old copy of The Raleigh Hatchet and thought Claire would like to give 2 Cents another shot on New Raleigh, so here we go. Below are a couple of questions so new readers have an idea of what to expect. -Tim

You can submit your own questions for Claire to .(JavaScript must be enabled to view this email address).

Dear Claire,

I have a coworker who brings a refillable water bottle with a sports top with her to work everyday, which is in and of itself fine. The problem is that she breaks (I’m pretty sure it’s every hour on the hour) and sucks on the sports top audibly as if it were a teat. It is making me crazy and I’m pretty sure that it would be rude of me to say anything to her about it. My company has policy about wearing earphones as we all share phone and door duties so I can’t drown the sound of her out in the manner I would like. What can I do to keep from jumping over the cubicle wall and cramming the damned thing down her throat? Also, if you have any words of wisdom pertaining to why this noise might be so annoying to me—could it have something to do with breast feeding, or maybe I was a tortured milkmaid in a past life—these would also be most appreciated.

Signed,
Work sucks.

Dear Work sucks,

Well, yes it can. Especially work that requires that you are subjected to the quirks of your cubicle “neighbors”. My first instinct is for you to make your suckling neighbor aware of the downsides to using refilled plastic bottles, as i’ve never seen suckable sports caps on glass or metal containers. Here’s an excerpt you can cut and paste into an email- send it out to your coworker along with some friends so it looks like you’re just passing on some eco-friendly info about the evils of plastic (lifted from grist.org, but versions available on numerous sites):

Drinks from non-plastic vessels taste better. Plastic is a non-renewable resource, its manufacture is energy- and resource-intensive, and in many cases highly toxic. It does not biodegrade. Polyvinyl-chloride manufacturing releases dioxins, as does the incineration of said PVC. Plastic used in food applications can get worn and torn and eventually harbor terrorist bacteria. Plastics recycling is also known as “downcycling,” because each reiteration of your original bottle is of lower quality than the next, until at last the landfill beckons.

I especially like the use of the phrase “harbor terrorist bacteria”- it appeals to the health-conscious as well as the patriotic.

If that doesn’t do the trick, my next suggestion is to adopt annoying noise-making habits of your own. Just off the top of my head I came up with incessant sniffling, hacking, burping or farting. Upon further reflection humming, whistling and singing came to mind, as well as gum smacking/popping, pen clicking, tooth sucking or foot tapping (especially effective if your cubicles share a wall that you can cause to vibrate by tapping your foot against it). I tend to talk to myself or my piece of shit computer in my pod which I imagine is probably quite irritating to my coworker on the other side of the wafer-thin “wall”, particularly when I punctuate my commentary by throwing my piece of shit mouse at my dysfunctional computer as though I can intimidate it into working properly. If you want to go for a more eye for an eye approach, try drinking your beverage of choice from a styrofoam cup with a lid and straw. Scratch the styrofoam with your fingernail and pull the straw up and down in the lid intermittently to make a nice variety of squeaky noises while only filling it up enough to cause you to have to loudly slurp the liquid out. Hopefully one of these suggestions or a strategic combination will send a suitably noisy message. If not, try jumping over the cubicle wall and cramming the damned thing down her throat- just be careful not to do permanent damage that will keep her sucking on her own straw for the rest of your lives, especially if you will be sharing this space long-term.

As for the reason this noise is so annoying to you- well, you said it best: regardless of your past life history or breast-feeding issues, work sucks and it only gets suckier when you have a soul-sucking coworker sucking away within earshot. It’s annoying because it’s annoying. And gross.

suck it up,
Claire

Dear Claire,

The other night my girlfriend and I were at a bar playing a friendly game of pool. We had some quarters lined up to reserve a couple of games, which I guess I thought was following protocol when this dude asked if he could play the winner. My girlfriend has a hard time saying no, so she said yes. When I lost I went to the bar and they started the next game. When I came back they were having a big old time without me. I was already annoyed because I wanted to spend time with her and not Fuquay Fats but to make matters worse he won and then asked her to play again. So I sat there for an hour basically watching her purse while they kept playing. When she could no longer ignore my annoyance she quit playing and came and sat with me. But too late. We got in a fight. I think she should have told that fucker she didn’t want to play again, and she thinks I’m a boring loser. Is anyone right here?

No-fun Nancy-boy

Dear No-fun,

Watching her purse? For an hour? No-fun is right. Nancy-boy is even more right. Grow some balls dude! But in the meantime yes, your girlfriend should have quit after the first game if “Fuquay Fats” (love the name) didn’t have the social grace to concede the table back to the two of you. Technically, his winning the game gave him the option to keep the table but, because you and she had lined up some change, it would have been nice of him to at least alternate games with you, especially since he was apparently there alone and insinuated himself into your date (which, in my opinion, puts him much more firmly than you into the “loser” category). The problem with playing pool in bars is that rules of etiquette (not to mention rules of play, which is another ballgame entirely) are murky at best, and often assholes like Fats think they are playing in a tournament hall instead of a stinky bar with warped cues and crappy tables. To combat these types I recommend brushing up on your “official” pool rules and lingo, as well as your skills (if your girlfriend will let you play that is), so that in the future if there is a dispute over the table you can come at the situation from higher ground. Of course you’ll have to grow some regulation-sized balls first. And you might want to rethink that girlfriend while you’re at it.

(eight) balls to the wall,
Claire

Speaking of balls, dear readers, I’ve recently become aware of some practices enjoyed by the male human species known fondly as the “Mushroom Stamp”, “Kentucky Wristwatch” and “Flying Squirrel”, and I am fascinated to say the least. How I grew up with two older brothers and never became aware of these activities before is a mystery to me but I must know more! So if these sound familiar to you and you can increase my knowledge of the bizarre anatomical boredom-relieving things boys do (and how they got their less-obvious names) please write in and tell me all about it! No names will be revealed, I promise.

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