I remember when I was about 10 years old, I questioned my parents about everything…including Santa.  Here’s an example of a conversation I had with my Mom when I was a kid.

ME: ”Mom, do you love me?”

MOM: ”Of course I do, honey! Why would you ask such a silly thing?”

ME: ”I guess it’s because of the whole Santa Claus thing.  I don’t understand it.”

MOM: ”What are you talking about?”

ME: ”Well, he’s an old, fat, white man who gets his jollies from having children sit on his lap, and he tempts them with toys and candy.  Isn’t that wrong?”

MOM: ”Um…well, I…”

ME: ”Didn’t you tell me to watch out for old white men because they are pedio…peda…um…”

MOM: ”Pedophiles.  Yes, I did, but…”

ME: ”So why would you want me to sit on the lap of a pedophile, Mom?”

MOM: ”Santa isn’t a pedophile, Trey.  He loves children.”

ME: ”I’m sure he loves children, and that’s the problem.  What aren’t you understanding here, Mom?  He’s creepy.”

***Mom rolls her eyes and walks away***

ME: ”Mom, I’m not done.”

MOM: ”What else, Trey?”

ME: ”How does Santa get away with breaking into peoples’ homes?”

MOM: ”It’s not breaking and entering…we want him to come in and greet us.”

ME: ”Mom, if a white man broke into a house in Compton, he’d be greeted by Smith & Wesson.”

MOM: ”Yeah that’s probably true, but Christmas is an exception.  Speaking of which, you should be happy that you have a family that celebrates Christmas.  The Horowitzstein family down the road doesn’t celebrate it at all…maybe I should send you to stay with them.”

ME: ”That would be great.  They celebrate Hanukkah, so that means 7 days of presents instead of getting one lame gift.  They drive a nicer car than you and they have a much bigger house, so that would be fun.  The only thing that would suck is that they eat lots of bagels.  I don’t like bagels.”

**Awkward silence**

ME: ”Besides, I wouldn’t have to see that podo…pupu…um…”

MOM: ”Pedophile.  And Santa isn’t one!”

ME: ”Also, why isn’t Santa black?”

MOM: ”Because he’s white, Trey!” **Mom is clearly becoming exasperated at this point**

ME: ”Well you keep telling me that black men are better athletes than white men, right?”

MOM: ”Um, I don’t remember telling you that, but what’s your point?”

ME: ”So how could a fat, out-of-shape, old white man visit every home on the planet and lift thousands of heavy presents between midnight and 6 AM on Christmas morning?  It’s impossible.”

**More awkward silence**

ME: ”You know Jerome who lives in the crappy apartment complex down the street?  He’s big, fast, and strong.  Didn’t he play football and basketball in college?  He could probably lift and deliver all of the presents on-time.  I’m sure working as Santa would pay more than his job selling ‘white lady dust.’”

MOM: ”‘White lady dust’??  Do you mean cocaine??”

ME: ”Who knows?  He just said if I tried some, my wee-wee would grow much bigger and girls would love me.”

MOM: ”Oh my goodness…my boy used drugs. I’ve failed.”

ME: ”Don’t worry, Mom.  I told him that my wee-wee is really big and I don’t need any help with that.”

MOM: ”Thank God.”

ME: ”Yeah, I like my wee-wee.”

MOM: ”That’s not what I meant.  So do you have any other questions?”

ME: ”No, I think I’m good, Mom.”

MOM: ”Good…I need to make dinner.”

ME: ”Mom?”

MOM: ”What, Trey?”

ME: ”Is the Tooth Fairy gay?”

This line of questioning continued for at least an hour before my mom grounded me and put a lump of coal in my stocking.  You see – Christmas helped to shape me into the crazy man I am today.  Take a moment to think of your best Christmas memories while you spend time with your loved ones this holiday season.  Or you can just share this story with your friends on Facebook and direct them to “Like” my advice column…I’m cool with that, too.  In any case, let me know how that works out for you.  I’ll see you guys in 2012!

1) I’m thankful for the fact that I look and feel better now than I did in High School.  I say this because many of you are in your hometowns right now, and you probably met up with your High School friends for some drinks to remember the good ol’ days.  There is not one of you reading this who didn’t have the “stud athlete” or the “hot chick” in your High School, only to bump into them years later to find out that they’re not nearly as cool/hot as they used to be.  Take this exchange that I had with “the stud High School basketball star” when I went to my hometown a few years ago:

ME: “Hey man, what’s up?  How’s life treating you?”

STUD ATHLETE: “Not bad.  What are you up to these days?”

ME: “Oh, I’m a world-class advice columnist, have a great wife, live in a beautiful condo in the Westside of Los Angeles, and I’m very happy.  What about you?”

STUD ATHLETE: “Yeah, I’m working.”

ME: “Working?  What does that…”

STUD ATHLETE: “Um…excuse me for a second.”

***Stud athlete tries to walk away, but is stopped by a random dude***

RANDOM DUDE: “Hey, why aren’t you at work??”

STUD ATHLETE: “Uh, um…I didn’t know I had to work today, sir.”

RANDOM DUDE: “I don’t want to hear excuses!  All I know is that all of the bathrooms better be spotless by 6AM tomorrow morning, and those toilets better be cleaned to the point that I can lick them and enjoy the taste.  You understand??”

STUD ATHLETE: “Yes sir.”

***Random dude walks away***

ME: “What the hell was that all about?  Are you a janitor??”

STUD ATHLETE: “Actually, I’m a Custodial Engineer.”

ME: “What happened to you?  You were the coolest kid in High School, chicks loved you, and you had dreams of playing basketball professionally.  Now you’re a fat janitor.”

STUD ATHLETE: “Custodial Engineer!”

ME: “Whatever.”

STUD ATHLETE: “I just want to have one month where I don’t have to suck dick for extra money to pay rent.  It’s just not my thing, you know?”

ME: “Say what??”

STUD ATHLETE: “My job doesn’t pay very well, so I have make money on the side.  Swallowing and cuddling is an extra charge, but I’m totally not gay.”

ME: “OK…”

***Awkward silence***

STUD ATHLETE: “So, I don’t know what you’re doing later, but…”

ME: “I will fight you, dog.”

STUD ATHLETE: “Can I at least borrow $20?”

Anyway, I’m very thankful that I didn’t experience the peak of my success in life as 17-year old like that fool did.

2) I’m thankful that I’m not single.  Maybe this is not the case in other cities, but most (not all) of the 30+ year old single women in LA are either certifiably insane, have VD, have 3 kids, or would never consider dating you unless you make over $500K/yr.  I’m thankful to have a wonderful wife who loves me, although she hates my advice column for some reason (can you imagine that??  She’ll come around eventually).

3) I’m thankful that I don’t have a small penis.  I don’t have anything clever or funny to say about this.

4) I’m thankful that I’m not a short dude.  I’m not trying to hate on my vertically-challenged male readers, but damn it must suck to be you.  If you ask a chick what she looks for in a man (physically), one of the first things she’ll say is that he has to be over 6′ tall.  Whenever I see a short dude in LA with a hot chick, I know that he’s rich or influential in Hollywood – because that girl would NEVER date that guy if he was a Joe Schmoe with a corporate job.  Being 6’2 has its benefits.

5) I’m thankful for the fact that I’m in a financial situation where I would never consider being near a shopping mall for those door-buster deals on Friday.  Listen, I know that things are tough financially for many folks these days – but sitting outside of a Best Buy at Midnight on Thanksgiving night just so you can fight a group of losers to buy a flatscreen TV for $199 instead of $499 is the height of insanity to me.  Seriously, are these people factoring in the $500 Emergency Room visit fee they’ll have to pay once they break a bone wrestling for said $199 flatscreen TV?  Even if Best Buy was offering those flatscreens for $1, I still wouldn’t participate in that nonsense.

Also, I don’t know why they call it “Black Friday, ” either.  You’re telling me that Mexicans and penny-pinching Jews don’t like a good deal, too?  Riiiiight, and I’m Tito Jackson.  Enough with the “Black Friday” crap.

6) I’m thankful for douchebags, losers, skanks, and whores.  Why?  Let me explain.  Remember the last Batman movie, The Dark Knight?  Batman asked the Joker why he’s trying to kill him.  The Joker responded by saying,”Kill you??  I need you!  Without Batman there is no Joker.  You complete me!”  That’s similar to what I’m experiencing here.  Would the world be a better place without douchebags, losers, skanks, and whores?  Possibly, but it would not be a better world for me.  Without them, there is no Trey Say advice column - and quite frankly, that’s not a world that I would choose to live in.   Would you?  That’s what I thought.

7) Last but not least, I’m thankful for all of my fans of this advice column.  Sure, I can be offensive, brash, and crude, but the fact that you all keep coming back to support me proves that you accept me for who I am, and you accept this column for what it is.  All jokes aside – I appreciate all of you for providing me with an outlet to share my craziness with the world.

So eat some turkey today, watch some football, hug a loved one, and remember what you’re thankful for.

Let me know how that works out for you.

On second thought – don’t.  I’ll be too busy eating and sleeping.

QUESTION: I figured there is no better person on the planet to ask this question to than you.  There is a woman that I currently work with that is African-American, and one day my Boss (who is white), started talking about African-Americans on the whole but called them “blacks.”  The woman flipped out on him saying she is “African-American not black.”  Is she right?  I think I need to know, because as a white guy, I don’t want to get my ass kicked in the future.

TREY SAY: Good question, Dave.  My opinion is that our world has become way too sensitive.  Most of the loyal readers of my column will know that I’m not the most politically correct dude out there, so I might not be the best person to ask after all.  Personally, I wouldn’t go all “Malcolm X” on you if you call me black instead of African-American.  But to that end, I’ll give you white folks some advice on how NOT to deal with us “black folks.”  Pay close attention.

1. It’s NEVER okay to call us “n*ggas” – Yes, this point should go without saying, but some white folks watch too many rap videos these days and think it’s an everyday word.  For example, a few years ago I was playing pickup basketball at Venice Beach, and the team I was playing against had four black dudes and one white guy on it (my team was all black), and after one play where his team scored, the white dude said, “Damn, y’all n*ggas are pretty good!” What happened next was pretty funny – you know in the movies where folks are dancing at a party, and then someone says something stupid and the music just stops on a dime and everyone looks at that person?  Well, that’s what happened here – except for the fact that Vanilla Ice got his ass beat within an inch of his life.  I think I might’ve kicked him a few times myself.  Idiot.
2. Don’t say stupid sh*t like “acting black” – Honestly few things in life will piss me off more than that.  Can someone please tell me how the f*ck you act black?  I’m serious.  I know that I’ve said this plenty of times before, but last I checked, you can’t act like a color.   Although it’s a stupid statement – I’ll humor the fools that subscribe to that method of thinking for a moment;  I’m assuming that they mean not speaking proper English, being loud and obnoxious in public places, doing crappy in school, and spending most of the day running from the cops, and snacking on government cheese. If that is what being “black” is all about then I should jump off of a cliff today.  Honestly, I don’t think I’ve ever stolen a piece of gum in my life, I don’t speak in double-negatives, I’m not loud, I did well in school, I write good…er, I write well, and my clothes don’t hang off of my ass.  Does that make me “less” black?  I don’t get it.
3. Don’t say “that’s ghetto” around black folks – We don’t like that very much either.  There’s a white chick that I know who will call any place “ghetto” that isn’t 95 percent white or totally immaculate. Give me a break. I wanted to tell her, “Honey, let me drop your ignorant ass off in Compton for the afternoon – and that will give you an education on what being ‘ghetto’ is all about.”

So Dave, if “Louisa Farrakhan” wants you to address her as an African-American instead of black, then I’d oblige her.  You don’t want to piss off a black…er, African-American woman, trust me.  Let me know how that works out for you.

QUESTION: I’m a Texan, and due to an unfortunate work-related business trip next week, I’ll be stuck in your cesspool of a city for Halloween weekend (editor’s note: he’s referring to Los Angeles).  I’m not at all happy about it, but I am looking forward to going to a Halloween party on the 29th.  I want to wear a costume so offensive and over-the-top that it will totally piss everyone off at the party.  Any ideas? I would dress up as a loud-mouthed black guy who gives shitty advice, but it looks like you have that one covered already. Oh yeah, and don’t mess with Texas!

TREY SAY: Shut the hell up, idiot.  What exactly are you going to do during this alleged “business trip,” anyway? Flirt with the animals at the local petting zoo? By the way, nothing sounds dumber than the whole “don’t mess with Texas” thing.  Ooooh…so you think you’re tough because you chew tobacco, listen to John Cougar Mellencamp, and drive a Ford pickup truck with a pissing Calvin bumper sticker on it?  Get over yourself.  The reason why people “don’t mess with Texas” has nothing to do with the fear of you kicking our asses.  Here’s a scenario that might help to make this clearer for you.  Let’s say that I went to a bar and there was an ugly chick with eight bastard children, horrible breath, and a glass eye sitting next to me named “Texas.”  Here’s how the conversation would go:

TEXAS: ”Hey baby, I’m Texas…do you want to make out?”

ME: ”Hell no, you nasty skank.  Back the hell up.”

TEXAS: ”That’s cool.  I know that there is one guy in this bar that will sleep with me.”

ME: ”Whatever.  Just get the fuck away from me.”

** an extremely intoxicated dude walks towards me**

DRUNK GUY: ”Dude…I’d totally *burp* get with that broad.  She’s sooooo hot!”

ME: ”Bro, whatever you do, don’t mess with Texas.”

In other words, we don’t mess with Texas because we have no interest in Texas.  You’re as irrelevant as Wyoming and Idaho.  Besides, all of the hot chicks in your state will end up moving to LA, anyway (if they haven’t already).  Deal with it.

I digress.

So Cletus, you’ve come to me for advice and I should probably help you.  If you’re looking for the top five costumes to offend Los Angelinos, I’ll gladly provide them for you:

5) LARRY BIRD: If you walk into any Los Angeles party wearing a puke-green #33 Boston Celtics jersey, you will automatically become the least popular person there.

4) ANY REPUBLICAN: Sarah Palin, Rush Limbaugh, Rick Perry, Herman Cain, etc. Take your pick. Once you get to the party, start spitting the typical Republican rhetoric:

• “We need smaller government!”
• “Obama is a Socialist, Fascist, Communist (or any other “ist” that you probably don’t know the meaning of)”
• “The Tea Party will bring America back to prosperity!”

Being from Texas, I’m sure that you already subscribe to this type of thinking – but that shit doesn’t fly in Los Angeles. If you decide to be Rush Limbaugh, I’d suggest you go balls out and be high on pain killers as well. That will be useful once you get beaten within an inch of your sorry ass life.

3) FRANK MCCOURT: For those of you who don’t know, he’s the idiot from Boston who bought the Los Angeles Dodgers and subsequently ran this once-proud franchise into the ground. For baseball fans, he’s easily the most hated man in this city. If your party happens to be in East LA, I highly recommend that you dress up as him. Also, be sure to wear an “I hate Mexicans” T-shirt while you’re at it.

2) TRAFFIC: There is nothing that LA folks hate more than traffic, so maybe that should be your costume.  How does one become “traffic,” you ask?  It’s simple.

• Stand in front of the keg and take 10 minutes to fill up your 8 oz plastic cup with beer.
• Pull up next to a hot chick at the party and make douche-baggy gestures to her like the thumb-pinky “call me,” blow kisses, etc.  When she tries to get away from you, just stay by her side for at least 15 minutes.
• When people are taking too long in the bathroom, yell “HURRY UP, ASSHOLE!!  WHERE DID YOU LEARN HOW TO PISS LIKE THAT??  MY GRANDMA TAKES QUICKER DUMPS THAN YOU!! etc.”

1) YOU: Yeah, I said it – come as you are. Just roll to the party looking/acting like a broke-down Yosemite Sam. That includes:

• Tight-ass, sperm-melting Wrangler jeans
• Stupid looking cowboy hat (by the way, if you’re over the age of 10 and you would voluntarily wear a cowboy hat in public – you really need to kill yourself after you’re done reading this column)
• A lack of familiarity with indoor plumbing
• A horse that works double-duty as your transportation and girlfriend

Let me know how that works out for you.

QUESTION: Yo! Welcome back, Dawg! I have a question for you. So I work in Marketing for a very large corporation, and I’ve been working on a project with this dude for a couple of months now. He’s really smart, never late on his assignments, and we work well together – but yesterday I found out that he’s gay.  He mentioned to me that he and his partner are excited about the new gay marriage bill passing here and they’re planning to get married in the fall. Additionally, he mentioned how they want to adopt children from Africa. I’m totally disgusted by this and refuse to work with him again. Ya feel me, Dawg? How should I tell my boss that I’m done working with a fucking queer? Holla!

TREY SAY: First off – without even looking at your corny ass, I can tell that you’re a Tapout T-shirt wearing, beef jerky eating, mouth breathing, douchebag white boy. Let me give you some tips, Snowflake – if you’re going to use the urban vernacular around a black guy, make sure you use something a little less dated than “Dawg,” will you please? Do I look like Randy Jackson to you? Hell, “raise the roof” just emailed me and said that you need more relevant smack. I think I speak for all black people when I say that we really don’t like this. Stay in your lane and leave the coolness to me, you fucking nerd.

Now that we’ve gotten that out of the way, let me attempt to clarify something: You work with a smart and efficient colleague who hits all of his deliverables on time, but you’re refusing to work with him because you found out that he’s gay? I’m struggling to understand this. Are you afraid he may kidnap you and make you watch Bravo TV all day long? Or are you worried that he’ll ask you to play a game of “Hide the Salami” between conference calls? Oh wait – I get it, you’re probably scared that if you work with him for too long you’ll catch “the gay,” and become *gasp* one of them, right? You’re an idiot.

On a side note – is it just me, or have any of you noticed that gays are discriminated against more than any group in America today? Think about it – what other group is constantly bullied in schools, afraid to be themselves due to potential societal repercussions, and in many cases – can’t get married? As a black man, I despise discrimination of any kind – so my heart goes out to homosexuals. The world has a crapload of problems to deal with – but many people spend time, energy, and money (in some instances, taxpayer’s money) protesting against individuals who are happy and in love.  It’s just beyond my level of understanding.

Maybe I’m just naïve, but I believe that the quality of one’s work has zero direct (or indirect) correlation to who he/she is banging. So why do you care? I don’t know this guy, but I bet he doesn’t give a damn about who you’re sleeping with. Additionally, I can’t speak for anyone else – but I’m only interested in the sexual habits of one human being, and that’s my wife. How about you get your bigoted head out of your ass and start adding value to your company by continuing to work with this man? If you decide that it’s beneath you to work with a “fucking queer,” you should approach your boss about it. Just tell him exactly what you told me. Since you’re stupid enough to come at me with such an asinine question, I’m pretty sure you’re stupid enough to do this too. If so, one of two things will happen:

Scenario #1: Your boss is a reasonable, sane, and intelligent man who fires you on the spot for being a complete jackass.

Scenario #2: Your boss is just as bigoted as you are, and decides to grant your wish to stop working with your colleague. Since you’re a fool, you’ll probably contact me and say “I told you so!” In that case, I’ll forward your question to the HR department of your corporation (I looked you up on Facebook, and your dumb ass listed your employer for everyone to see). And yep, you guessed it – you’ll probably be fired on the spot then too.

Here’s the sad thing about this: The only reason why the man told you he was gay was because he probably trusted and liked you to enough to share such a deep personal secret – and would never think that you’d betray him like this. It’s truly disturbing that people like you are walking around spreading your hate and assorted assclownery to others. Discrimination and bigotry of any kind is not cool, “Ya feel me?”

So, it looks like you really only have three options:

• Be professional and continue to work with this man
• Find yourself a new job
• Kill yourself

I’m pretty sure you know what I’d recommend. Let me know how that works out for you, Dawg. View This Poll

QUESTION: Hey Trey, my boyfriend was a contestant on a Reality TV show (editor’s note: I omitted the name of the show for obvious reasons), and he just decided to move to Los Angeles to become a star. He wants me to go with him. Do you think I should go? I’m young and dumb, so what do I have to lose, right? We could become the next Brad and Angie!

TREY SAY: “Young and Dumb”? Really? Who says this? Do you want me to clown you? Because it sure as hell seems like it. Personally, I’d rather that you just stay in your irrelevant flyover state, because we have plenty of young, dumb mid-western people in this city, but I wouldn’t be doing my job if I didn’t give you good reasons why.

Let’s start by talking about your “Reality TV Star” boyfriend. I’m sure dude thinks he’s the sh*t in your hometown because he can walk into any Fantastic Sam’s or Wal-mart in town and get free haircuts or swag, but that won’t happen in LA. Here’s an analogy for you: Reality TV contestants are similar to Goth kids in High School. Everyone in their own little group thinks that they’re cool because they walk around with purple hair, black leather, and combat boots – but in reality, everyone thinks they’re complete losers and laugh behind their backs whenever they walk by. Unfortunately, I’ve had the displeasure of being around “Reality TV Guy” in LA, and trust me – nobody loves Reality TV Guy more than Reality TV Guy and his Reality TV buddies. However, everyone else in this town (except for dorky Reality TV fans) place them on a level between pedophiles and porn stars. If he comes out here rocking his sunglasses indoors and extra-medium Ed Hardy T-shirts, there is a good chance that waiters will dip their testicles in his food and piss in his lemonade whenever you go out to eat. I’m sure you don’t want that to happen to him.

Not to mention, it’s 2011. When was the last time you saw a contestant from a Reality TV show become a viable mainstream star? Yeah, that’s what I thought. Your man will spend the majority of his time in LA working the night shift at Carl’s Jr while getting laughed at during auditions in the daytime. If “Reality TV Guy” or “Reality TV Girl” is reading this, please leave the acting and the TV hosting to those individuals who are formally trained to do so. Sleeping outside and eating bugs in a foreign country or being a Guido douchebag who likes to party doesn’t qualify you to be the next Denzel Washington or Ryan Seacrest (well, I’m not sure that anyone wants to be the next Ryan Seacrest, but the dude is paid, so…).

Anyway, like I said earlier – just stay at home. If he insists on heading out here, just break up with him. I’m sure you’ll be able to find a new man at the next cow-tipping contest or country music event (or whatever the hell you mid-westerners do with your time). Let me know how that works out for you.View This Poll

QUESTION: OK, so maybe I’m not in need of specific advice, but since you’re smarter than me – I’d like to ask you a question. Is there a worse holiday than Valentine’s Day? Seriously, if you’re single it sucks and if you’re married or dating, it sucks. Again, no real advice needed…just venting.

TREY SAY: Don’t sweat it, my man. You guys don’t always have to come to me for advice – you can ask me anything. For example, last week a dude asked me for $5,000 to pay off a Super Bowl gambling debt, and I told him to “go f*ck himself.” It’s probably not the answer he wanted to hear, but I respect him for asking. Luckily, your question is one that I actually want to address, so here are my thoughts on it.

Valentine’s Day sucks. It’s a really stupid holiday that capitalizes on stupid people willing to spend money on cards, gifts, flowers, etc. to express love for a significant other. For example, Kay Jewelers commercials are always on during this time of year, and unless you’re living under a rock, you’ve seen them. “Every kiss begins with Kay.” Right. I’m pretty sure that during my college days, every kiss began with Mad-Dog 20/20 and Olde English.

I digress.

Anyway, the level of “suckiness” on Valentine’s Day completely depends on your relationship status and gender.

PERSON # 1 – Single Girl: Valentine’s Day really sucks for you, girl. Mondays always suck, but it’s extremely sucktastic if Valentine’s Day falls on a Monday and you happen to be single. From the moment you walk outside, you’ll have to endure the sight of flowers/gifts that your dating/married co-workers and friends receive from their “romantic” boyfriends/husbands. You’ll probably spend at least 15 minutes of the day in tears, 30 minutes cyber-stalking your ex-boyfriend on Facebook, 2 hours wondering why your ex-boyfriend left you for a younger, hotter, funnier, nicer, more intelligent, less psychotic girl (when it would take anyone else less than 2 seconds to figure out), and an additional 5 hours watching sappy love DVDs like Dear John and Message in a Bottle while eating Rocky Road ice cream.  Keep in mind, everything that I just typed doesn’t apply if you’re a strong, confident, single female who doesn’t equate her self-worth as a woman by being in a relationship. For those of you, Valentine’s Day is just a typical Monday to you.

PERSON # 2 – Single Guy: Today can be the best day on the calendar for you if you play your cards right. There is a small faction of single chicks in every town who get so fed up with the Valentine’s Day nonsense that they’ll grab their girlfriends and say, “f*ck it, let’s go get drunk and make out with random dudes at a bar.” Your only action item is to find the bar/club in your town that’s running a “I Hate Valentine’s Day” promotion for single chicks. Hell, you can come to table with your “C+” game and you’ll probably get one of those girls to taste your nut sack. Today should be up there with New Year Eve, the Super Bowl, and NFL opening Sunday as one the greatest days of year for you.

PERSON # 3 - Dating/Married Girl: Assuming you don’t have a deadbeat, scumbag, lazy boyfriend/husband – you’ll probably get a gift today. However, the quality of the gift determines how good your day will be.  If your man buys you a pair of diamond earrings and a bouquet of your favorite flowers, you’ll be the envy of all of your little girlie friends – and all will be good. If you happen to have that boyfriend/husband who gives you tickets to a WWE event or a vacuum, then your day will probably suck more than “Person #1.”

PERSON # 4 – Dating/Married Guy: Today will not be a good day for most of you. Your margin for error is microscopic – if you get your girl a gift that isn’t “good enough,” she’ll get pissed and think that you don’t care enough about her. If you go overboard with the bling, you’ll have to find a way to top yourself next year – or she’ll realize that you’re only good for the types of presents you can buy for her. The good news is that today doesn’t have to be a bad day for you if you follow my advice. Just buy her a gift card to her favorite store. It saves you the hassle of having to think about what she specifically wants, and she can spend an afternoon shopping for her gift while you catch up on your sports. I know what some of you chicks are thinking – “a gift card is so impersonal, Trey.” Wrong. He could give you a gift card to “Lawnmowers R Us,” but if he includes a heartfelt, lovey-dovey Valentine’s card to go with it, you’ll be riding him like Seabiscuit before dinnertime, You know I’m right.

In all seriousness, Valentine’s Day is a terrible holiday. It’s corporate America’s way of capitalizing on something that we should be doing EVERY day – and that’s showing and telling the important people in our lives how much we love them. If you want to do something truly original to celebrate this “holiday,” do nothing. Except for you, Single Guy. Let me know how your night at the club works out for you.View This Poll

I’m pretty certain that nobody feels worse about her mistake than Christina does, and the fact that people are piling on her is an absolute embarrassment. Here’s a sampling of what I’ve heard since yesterday.

Person #1: She does this for a living! There is no excuse for her to mess up!; Really? So, I guess you’ve never made a mistake at your job before, right? The only difference is that nobody gives a sh*t if you mess up at your anonymous $40,000/yr job except for you and your boss. I don’t care if she sings in front of sold out arenas for a living, the girl isn’t a robot. Mistakes happen, and unfortunately her mistake happened in front of the largest television viewing audience of the year. Cut her some slack, and make sure that you get that weekly marketing report out on-time, Mr. Perfect.

Person #2: It disgusts me that someone could sing this sacred song incorrectly; Get a grip. Should we “deport” her? (which I’ve heard from people even though she’s American) Send her to Guantanamo? It’s a song, people! Yes, it’s an important song – but save your Uncle Sam impersonation for your next Gun Club meeting. Anyone with half a brain understands that mistakes happen. See Person #1.

Person #3: What do you expect from someone like that? That’s why they need to have a Country star sing the Anthem: Translated: “What do you expect when you have one of those brown people sing? We need to have an All-American girl like Carrie Underwood sing it.” It’s hard to take this person seriously because obviously he’s a racist, but I’ve heard people say this a lot in the past 12 hours. I guess “brown folks” are just too stupid to sing this song correctly. Also, Christina is hardly “brown” to begin with.  Her dad is from Ecuador and her mom is white; however, since she has a Latin last name – she’s fair game for the mouth-breathing rednecks of the world. I have nothing else to say about this person.

Person #4: She should be banned from singing the National Anthem for life: Right. Just like you should be banned from dating women for the rest of your life because you were dumb enough to talk about the “wonders” of barnyard animal porn during a first date. How stupid are you? Anyway, if anyone should be banned from signing the Anthem, it should be people like Carl Lewis and Roseanne Barr who made a mockery of it during sporting events – not someone who made an honest mistake and feels terrible about it.

Person #5: I used to like Christina before this, and now I can’t stand her: Shut up. If that’s how you feel then you never liked her in the first place. You’re just a jealous hater who happens to be pissed off about the fact that she made more money in one minute and 55 seconds signing that Anthem than you will make in 2 1/2 years of working at your office job.

In closing, this is just another sad example of the fact that a lot of Americans are happiest when successful people fail or make mistakes. I (thankfully) am not one of them. I personally applaud people like Christina who have the guts to get in front of 100,000 people in a stadium (and over 100 million watching on TV) and sing a very difficult song. Hopefully you agree with me, but if you don’t – then I suggest you take a look at your life and the mistakes you’ve made before you start judging others. Let me know how that works out for you.View This Poll

DEGENERATE GAMBLING GUY: He’s the idiot who bets his rent check on stupid proposition bets like the coin toss, which team will score first, the color of the Gatorade to be dumped on the winning coach’s head, etc. For example, there is a prop bet that asks people to determine if Christina Aguliera’s version of the National Anthem will be under/over one minute and 56 seconds. Seriously? Who the hell would drop coin on this foolishness? Oh, I know – Degenerate Gambling Guy, that’s who. If you hear a guy yell “YESSSS!!” or “F*CK!!” during what seems like a meaningless juncture in the game, it’s probably because you invited him to your party. And by the way, you should take the “over” on that Christina bet.

ARTSY PANSY GUY: This guy would rather discuss the acting performance of Natalie Portman in Black Swan than lowering himself to watching football with a bunch of meatheads. However, since he’s watched every Oscar nominated movie five times, he figured that he’d go to the party just to make fun of people who aren’t as worldly as he is. Keep in mind, his only interest in “The Packers” or “Tight Ends” is during one of his typical, um…male bonding session on Friday nights – so don’t try to start up a football conversation with him. He’ll just sigh, roll his eyes, and make comments under his breath about how stupid people are who actually like sports. The good news is that if you don’t serve fancy wine or have copies of Entertainment Weekly readily available for him to read, he’ll probably leave before halftime.

“I KNOW FOOTBALL” GIRL: She’s chubby, relatively unattractive, and (you guessed it) single. Her only motivation to attend your party is to impress dudes with her football acumen and hopefully leave the party with a date. The unfortunate thing is that guys don’t give a sh*t if a chick knows her football if she looks like should could play linebacker in the game. She needs to mix in a salad and a few more hours on the stairmaster, and maybe she’ll get a man’s attention. Otherwise, she better hope that one of the guys get drunk…really drunk.

“I DON’T KNOW FOOTBALL” GIRL: She doesn’t know the difference between a Tailback and a Touchback, and she’ll usually sit on the couch and say stupid sh*t like “I thought Brett Favre played for the Packers” or “How many quarters are in a football game?” The only reason why she’s tolerated is because she’s usually pretty hot and almost more fun to look at than the game itself. If only she could keep her mouth shut…

“SHUT THE F*CK UP!” GUY: This guy is really intense. You’d think his life is riding on every play, and if you dare to speak during game action, he will get in your face and probably fight you. You’d think that he’d be happiest watching the game alone, but instead he’ll go to your party where 30 people are socializing and ruin the event for everyone. It doesn’t matter if it’s the coin flip, the post-game handshakes, or anything in between – he will yell “SHUT THE F*CK UP!” to everyone in the room if it’s not quiet enough to hear an insect’s heart beating. He will probably kill the “I don’t know football girl”  or the “Artsy pansy guy”, so I’d suggest not inviting at least one of them unless you enjoy completing police reports.

Sure, there are others like “I ONLY CAME FOR THE FOOD GUY” or “I ONLY ENJOY THE COMMERCIALS GUY,” but both of them are harmless and will probably not impact your party for better or for worse. So anyway, if you plan to invite one of those aforementioned people to your party, let me know how that works out for you. And for Degenerate Gambling Guy, my prediction is that the Packers win a close game over the Steelers (24-20). Enjoy the game!View This Poll

This question comes from Tracy in Miami.  She writes,

QUESTION: I’ve been dating a new guy for about four months now, and things have been going pretty well until recently.  I went out with his friends last weekend for drinks, and he began sharing intimate details about our sex life with everyone.  Maybe I have good old-fashioned values, but I don’t think it’s appropriate to tell random people that I like anal sex, hair-pulling, and foreign objects.  I’m a hot woman, so maybe it helps to boost his self-esteem by telling his friends about this.  What do you think I should do about it?

TREY SAY: Yeah…because nothing says “good old-fashioned values” like enjoying a penis in your ass and having inanimate objects shoved into your vagina, you silly whore.  I would venture to guess that the only thing remotely ”hot” about you is the burning sensation you get when you pee.  Stop writing stupid sh*t to me.  However, I think I know where you’re going with this.  You’re upset because your man put your personal business out in the open…I get it.  Here’s a newsflash for all the women reading this wonderful advice column: EVERY dude does this.  I’ll give you an example.  Let’s say you’re a single chick who just went on a nice first dinner date with some guy named “Joe,” and after the date was over you engaged in a nice good-night kiss before you went home.  This is how he would describe the date with his friend the next day:

FRIEND: “So how’d that date go with that hot chick?”

JOE: “Pretty damn good, man…she’s got a sick body.”

FRIEND: “Did you get her naked?”

JOE: “Dude, who do you think you’re talking to??  I’m not a f*cking amateur.  Of course I got her naked.  She got all squirrely on me too…”

FRIEND: “Squirrely?”

JOE: “Yeah, because she was all up on my nuts, dude! Bwah haha!”

**They fist bump**

FRIEND: “So how was the sex?”

JOE: “It was great…I put her in the ‘suitcase.’”

FRIEND: “Suitcase? What’s that?”

JOE: “Basically, I put both of her legs behind her head, lifted her up by her ankles, and slammed her vagina into my Johnson.  It was great, but you have to be a rugged dude like me in order lift a 120 lbs broad like she was a piece of luggage.”

FRIEND: “Dude, you are so cool.”

JOE: “Yeah…”

If any of you women happen to be mortified by this revelation, I suggest you remove your head from your asses.  This kind of frat-boy behavior has been going on since the beginning of time, and I can guarantee you that there isn’t one dude reading this who hasn’t embellished in regards to the amount of “action” he received on a first date.  Additionally, there isn’t one woman reading this who hasn’t been the victim of said embellishment.  It is what it is.

With that being said, I can understand how embarrassing it must’ve been for him to share your um…”old-fashioned” sexual exploits with his buddies.  Luckily for you, I have a plan for you to get revenge.  Pay close attention.

First, you’re going eat a Burger King value meal and chase it with a 40 oz of Olde English malt liqour (yes, some of you probably know where I’m going with this).  After you’re done, invite your man over for some drinks.  Get his ass drunk…really drunk.  Eventually he’ll pass out, and once he does – get him naked and put him on your bed.  By the way, remember that Burger King meal I told you to eat earlier?  Well, it’s probably going to be rumbling in your gut, and that’s when you squat over his unconscious body and sh*t all over him.  Yeah, I said it – you are going to drop a deuce ON him.  Be sure to bring your digital camera so you can take pictures of it.

The next morning, he’s going to wake up wondering what the hell happened.  That’s when you have this conversation with him.

YOUR MAN: “What the f*ck is going on??  I woke up this morning covered in sh*t!”

YOU: “Yeah, I was meaning to talk to you about that.  I’m really not happy with what you did last night.”

YOUR MAN: “What are you talking about?”

YOU: “You wanted to get kinky with me, and you thought it would be a good idea to watch Asian midget porn to get us in the mood.  It’s not really my thing, but I obliged.  After watching Me Love You Short Time twice, you suggested that we sh*t on each other.  That’s where I drew the line, and asked you to leave.   Unfortunately you refused, and proceeded to defecate all over yourself while masturbating.  I took pictures of it because I knew you wouldn’t believe me.”

OK – now here’s where you have a decision to make: either you stay together or you break up with him.  If you decide you want to stay with him, just blackmail him by saying you’ll reveal his “secret” and show the pictures to all of his buddies unless he keeps his mouth shut about your sex life.  If you decide to break up with him, you should sell the pictures to every deviant newspaper/magazine in the country to see if you can make a few bucks off of it.

Either way, you’ll definitely want to buy some new bed sheets.

Let me know how that works out for you. View This Poll