Dear Scabby: My local punk venue™ just put up a sign that says “Girls Welcome.” Does this mean that I wasn’t welcome until a week ago? Even though I’ve been going there for upwards of two years? -CONFUSED FEMALE
Dear Confused Female: That’s exactly what it means. The only reason you’re even permitted in that converted church basement you call a “venue” is because it’s illegal to turn someone away based on gender. You’re welcome into that venue the same way I’m welcome back into certain parts of Canada: on a technicality. If you want to see a group of children dance with the lights on, I recommend the Chuck E. Cheese’s in Tuckernuck Square, but I suspect what you really want is equality.
There’s a poignant saying in the hardcore community, “No clit in the pit.” I think it was Dwight D. Eisenhower who first coined the term. At first, I thought “clit” was referring to clitellum, (the thick upper section of an earthworm or leech) but after going over the phrase with a fine tooth comb, I’ve decoded the cryptic message to have a more misogynistic meaning.
While there’s a small chance that the “Girls Welcome” sign is an attempt at inclusivity, it’s more likely that they need you to stand by as a coat rack. It’s getting cold outside and no one wants to windmill in a Canada Goose jacket. That’s where you come in. The decision is yours, but I highly recommend agreeing to hold as many coats as possible and then taking them to sell online. Consider it pocket money.
Dear Scabby: My “friend” keeps hooking up with guys I’m dating. I want to get back at her. Will you go out with me? -SLEAZY IN SALT LAKE CITY
Dear Sleazy in SLC: This takes me back to the good old days when best friends would swap clothes, makeup, and venereal diseases with each other, but there is such a thing as being too close. Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery, which means your friend is probably just trying to give you a compliment, but if you feel she’s crossed a boundary by callously sleeping with men you care about to elevate her own self-worth, I have a solution: put an end to this kinky cycle of betrayal and deception by sleeping with one of her blood relatives. Does her dad look good in a suit? Has her brother always harbored an innocent crush on you? Does her mom offer you snacks for no apparent reason? These are all viable options that will have your “friend” torn between her desire to double-cross you and her desire to not commit incest.
If none of her family members appeal to you, I do have one other solution. Growing up poor like me, you don’t eat crabs, the crabs eat you. I unknowingly infected a large portion of Monroe Ward with this STD in the spring of ’79, meaning no one would go within 10 feet of anyone I’d ever touched. This essentially rendered all of my ex-lovers off limits to anyone who valued their sexual health and earned me my former nickname, Crabby.
Dear Scabby: As the beginning of winter has arrived, people have started complaining about how I’m still wearing shorts. It’s just not cold. What can I do to stop this unwanted attention? -WARM IN DECEMBER
Dear Warm in December: I once had a similar yet completely different problem. During one of the hottest summers on record, I insisted on wearing a thick velvet cloak every day. Strangers on the street would yell out “witch” at me, insulting both my title as a sorcerer and my fashion sense, but it never dissuaded me from being myself. Freedom of expression is imperative to leading a fulfilling life, and if that means exposing your legs to subfreezing temperatures and forcing people to look at your kneecaps, I stand by you.
While you are not obligated to explain your wardrobe choices to anyone, there are some things to keep in mind this winter. Call me old-fashioned, but I think I speak for everyone when I say a man looks best when he’s clean shaven, and that includes legs. Without going into detail, I’ll have you know that I lost 80 percent of my body hair due to a chemical compound mixup at Nair, where I did picked up some temp work in the early ‘90s, and I’ve never felt sexier.
If you’re going to be dressing provocatively late at night, you’ll need to use extra caution. God forbid you’re harassed or even assaulted, the police are going to want to know what you were wearing at the time of the incident. Obviously, I would never say you were asking for it, but walking around at night showing that Taz tattoo you got on your calf during Spring Break when you were a much younger, tanner man is just playing Russian roulette.
Scabby is the self-proclaimed mother of the Richmond, VA hardcore scene (and also a number of illegitimate children who have been trying to get in touch with her via ancestry.com.) She came this close to getting her associates degree in psychology from an online program that was later shut down for reasons we cannot disclose due to an ongoing investigation. Originally named Gabby F., she started going by Scabby after an untreated bed bugs “situation” in her first squat made national news, and is assumed to be anywhere between 50 and 100 years old. She looks forward to answering your most pressing questions and encourages people to push each other mentally, emotionally, and literally. You can contact Scabby at [email protected].