Advice: Ask the Zamboni Lady
DISCLAIMER: The Zamboni Lady is not a doctor, nor does she play one on TV. She is, simply, a busybody who wants to know everyone
else’s business. The advice, while well-meant, is not meant to substitute for legal advice or protection, indicate a definitive way to live one’s life, or in any way imply that you should take her advice any more seriously than you would the advice of the bestie of your bestie, given out over a long and tear-soaked evening of nachos and margaritas.
Dear Zamboni Lady: What about those women who happen to be from Mars?
Signed, Astrologically Perplexed
Dear Astro: I’m curious as to why you are unconcerned about the men who happen to be from Venus, but nevertheless you don’t raise that point. Here’s the thing: That “men/women, Mars/Venus” idea is a dotty piece of crap written by a person who clearly perpetuates a cycle of dysfunction in his own relationships, pursuing relationships with women who withhold affection and projecting his own dissatisfaction onto his clients and the seven million readers who looked to this book with forlorn earnestness. Men “score” love in large blocks of points while women score acts singularly; one nice act = one “point” rewarded by women, while in men’s eyes Big Acts can score 20, 30, 40 points at a time…WTF? You can’t scorecard relationships like that, and you can’t jam people into 
Martian/Venutian pigeonholes. Unless, of course, they actually ARE from Mars and/or Venus, in which case there are bigger fish to fry than whether or not they score relationships correctly. I have seen men withhold affection, I’ve seen women lump piles of love points on their plates like love is the meatball that tops their spaghetti. As human beings, we exist in a continuum. Our sexualities exist in a continuum, our intellectual ideals exist in a continuum…hell, even our taste for condiments exists in a continuum, as aioli seems to be sneaking onto menus just about everywhere now, and sriracha has become the darling condiment of the foodie set. And, not surprisingly, I will claim that gender-based behavior-in-a-relationsh
ip issues exist…are you with me here?…in a continuum. So when you find that woman who happens to be from Mars, accept that her behavior is perfectly normal and this Mars/Venus delineation is a contrived and dysfunctional yardstick by which to measure the relative health of a relationship. Unless, of course, she really IS from Mars. In that case, offer her some gum.Dear Zamboni Lady: How do you tell a co-worker they need to wear a bra?
Signed, Sad about Sag
Dear Sad: I like that your protective nature made you use the gender-neutral “they” in asking this question, as though you don’t want to even begin to insinuate which co-worker you might have in mind. But I will assume that the co-worker in question is indeed a woman, and will from here forward use “her” and “she” as is grammatically correct.If you’re talking about a dude…I got nothing.
Anyway, how do you tell a co-worker she needs to wear a bra? Does this also include needing to wear a better bra? Because I have seen instances where a bra was being asked to perform heroic feats of uplift and just didn’t have the fight—or the supportive fabric—to do it. Either way, it’s a situation that results in bizarrely shaped silhouettes, unprofessional appearances, and the potential for all manner of wardrobe malfunction, especially if Justin Timberlake is anywhere in the vicinity.Can you stand this co-worker? Can you invite her out for a shopping date? It’s nearly impossible to come up with a gentle way to say, “Honey, them girls need some boosting!” at the water cooler but get them into a dressing room? It’s amazing how frank you can be. If she wears a bra but it’s ill-fitting and saggy, you can pull the straps up so the girls sit where they’re supposed to live, and she can see the difference. If she doesn’t wear a bra, you can wonder aloud what that particular shirt would look like with a bra under it, since a women’s shirt is cut with the expectation that boobs will be up here and not
down there. Some women really DON’T KNOW. Estimates and experts say something like 80% of women wear the wrong bra size. Chances are, if she’s an ill-fitting-bra wearer, she falls into this 80%. And if she’s over 25 and doesn’t wear a bra? It’s time she started learning, unless her girls are teensy. I know one woman who is in her 50s and can get away with going braless, but that’s it. Just. One.If you don’t really want to invest that kind of time (and believe me, I’ve had some co-workers about whom the thought of spending an afternoon with shopping breaks me into hives) and can’t figure out a polite way to say, “Hey, Mme. X., your boobs swing like Brian Setzer!”, then you have one of two choices:1) Start leaving lingerie sales flyers in her mailbox, and hope she gets the hint. OR
2) Get over it. Joan Rivers may be the fashion police, but she won’t actually show up at this woman’s door. And you can’t force a new bra on someone, no matter how much you think it would improve the way their clothes fit. Or their general appearance. Or their posture. Or their relationship with their own reflection.But seriously, if you’re asking about a dude? I’ve got nothin’.Dear Zamboni Lady: If you’re traveling at the speed of light, and you turn on your headlights, what happens?
Signed, Fred Einstein
Dear Einstein: I’m assuming that you’re driving a car at the speed of light, and that there are no police around. All things being relative, 
we have to assume that the car you’re in is traveling at the speed of light. We also have to assume that the simple mechanics of the car will still work as they had originally been designed. There is no way that the wiring in the car that operates the headlights will be able to process your request for headlights 
in a manner that will allow the light to shine forward—the wiring does not operate at light speed, so you’d be ahead of the light before it had a chance to get out in front of you. So your car will trail light like Pigpen trails smoke, and you’ll still be in the dark. Sucker. If you had turned on the lights before you left this never would have happened.