What's New
Arts & Leisure
Fashion & Style
House & Home
Your Turn
Professional Advice
Times of your Life
About Us
Search the Site

Elizabeth vs.
the Advice Givers.
All of them. Its time for Elizabeth to take action.

So we all know them. Those would-be helpers who stream advice as if they were a leaky faucet at 2:00am regardless of if the advice was sought or even makes sense. I know many. In fact I work with a house full of them.

As you may or may not know my office is a converted house. Chuck to the brim with women. All women. Almost all mothers and one "I can't wait to have children so I can control their every move" coworker. Yes. Fun for me.

The day that I don't get pulled into an office to have my sex life explained back to me by a supervisor 400 years my senior wearing Marti Gras beads, the world would end. Literally.

The skies would open and JC would make his second appearance. Really, it's in the book of Revelation, last chapter.*

(*Elizabeth hopes not to offend anyone with the notion of Christ's second coming do to a spout at work. There really isn't anything in Revelation dealing with her. Though she thinks that it should. But if you believe Elizabeth is on her way to Hades because of that statement, you are not alone. All the advice givers believe so as well.)

See, I was a counselor in my former life. I offer no opinions unless asked. And when someone does ask for my expertise in an area I have no idea about, I bow out. Like a good little girl. I don't rant on and on and on. Well, until now.

Picture this. I took my ex-fiancé out for a drink. There I said it. Shoot me. I didn't know I had to go through the UN, several work committees, and have it voted on by the Senate with a House majority to take the guy I knew for 3 years out for a drink.

He was having a bad day and we are friends. It's all fine. But not to the advice givers. Noooo.

So, here's what happened at work. It opens with the office theme party "Lets Yell at Liz About Last Night!" That's exactly how it went. Just like that. They actually met in an office and whispered to each other that they wanted to yell at me. Like some sick office phone game. A bunch of women standing around plotting their lecture.

And here's what happened next. Please note the change in colors to indicate me (blue - the color of peace and happiness) and my coworkers (red - the color of, well, the color of everything bad and evil in the world)

"So how was last night"

"Fine, I -" "I cant believe you went out with him. Are you crazy?! He is going to suck you back into his life" "Its not like tha-" "Did he get you drunk? Did you go home with him?" "Listen let me tell you what happ-" "I knew it! I knew he would weasel his way into your life. You can't do this. You have to tell him not to call. I knew you couldn't do it. I knew you were too nice"

"No, listen is wasn't like th-" "Now he's going to call you and call you. And I have to talk to him again and straighten all this out. I have to tell him to stop harassing you." "Are you going to let me tell you what happ-" "What? That he got you drunk? Did you pay for the drinks? I bet you did!"

"Well, yes, I was the one that offered-" [insert the groans of other office members listening behind the wall] "WHAT?! How could you! After all the work we did to stop him from talking to you!"

Oh I see. I can't do anything for myself. I remember now, it's all coming back. It's amazing how I made it to 28 years old, I mean, that whole growing up thing. I'm surprised I was able to stay alive with all the dangers in the world. I should really be wearing knee pads and a football helmet.

I mean, really! This advice comes from the chic who DRAGS me to help her stalk this cat who has yet to even look in her direction. Then makes me wait outside the bar in the cold so that it looks like she is "alone." And do I say anything. No. I can't, its like talking to a brick wall. But she is giving me love advice?


And here's my favorite advice memory. Ahhhh. It brings a tickle to my tummy just thinking about it. Oh wait. That's nausea. I had invited a friend from Chicago to visit me and my then fiancé. Yes, the same guy talked about in the above paragraphs.

She wanted to go to the Science Museum exhibit "Body Works" - you know, the people with no skin. Yeah. First mistake. So, I'm standing there, right. Amidst skinless reproductive organs and unborn babies wondering why the Sam Hell I let her talk me into this.

And as her boyfriend (her proclaimed "the best boyfriend in the whole wide blue world and can NEVER EVER do anything wrong") goes to look at the fetuses, she springs this on me:

"You need to break up with Jamie."

"Um….. Excuse me?"

"I'm scared for you. You aren't the same Elizabeth."


"You aren't you anymore. Your apartment doesn't even have an 'Elizabeth' feel"

"Wait. Huh? 'Elizabeth feel?' I have no furniture. It's at my parent's house. That stuff IS Jamie's."

"You mom is the same way with your dad. They should divorce. I don't like how she treats him and Jamie treats you the same way. I'm just trying to save you."

Ok, you have got to be kidding me. As if staring at skinless dead people wasn't bad enough. She insults my family. My Sicilian family.

I am so angry and I can't even avert my eyes from her tear filled ones. Because all I see around me are male body parts. Just dangling there. With no skin.

"If you ever want to get away….." She continues. "You can live with me."

Great…. Are you going to cut the crusts off my bread too? Ooooo! Can I wear the pink diapers with the princesses on the front?? Oh please, oh please, oh please?!

Oh yeah. The car ride home was super fun!

For the love of all that is good and holy! Are you people MAD??! I mean, do I have "Help Me I'm Lost" written on my forehead. Because if so, I can't see it. It must be karma. It's playing around with me again. I am surrounded by crazies.

Crazies wearing "mommy" aprons and handing me a plate of half baked BS wondering why I'm not hungry. "Now eat up Liz or there won't be any desert for you…" Yeah right.

So this is to all you advice givers. If we normal people ask for advice, feel free to give it. If we don't ask, well then don't offer, because you will make us feel like toddlers.

Drooling toddlers with filled diapers. Oh. And that reminds me of another story……


Top of Page

Back to Elizabeth
Copyright © 2005-2006 ClevelandWomen.Com. All Rights Reserved.
Questions or Comments? E-Mail us at: