This week, I received a beautiful email from one of my adoring readers:
“Jacob, first I want to say that I think you’re probably the most gifted, incredible writer I’ve ever seen. Truly the best wordsmith the world has ever known. Also you’re so handsome and seem so perfect and cool, and when I see you around campus or when I’m gluing pictures of you onto my vision board, I just can’t help but want to BE you. My life is a mess, Jacob. Do you have any general advice to offer so that I can be more like you?”
Such a lovely message — thank you, anonymous fan. But the truth is, I get emails like this every day: emails, texts, telegrams, handwritten letters and untrackable Venmo payments with pleas for life advice in the description.
So both because I feel an obligation to help my fans and because I’ve really been into lists lately, here are 10 general tips to help you get your (ess aitch eye tee) together.
1. Breakfast is one of the most important meals of the day — definitely top three — so make sure you eat it every morning. Anything will do. (Except meat — grain-fed especially — gluten, any nonorganic fruit, anything genetically modified, anything with more sodium than you can shake at a Jehovah’s Witness and anything that contains an “ose,” “ium” or “tin” on the nutrition facts. Soy is fine. As long as the Mexicans growing it have two-year dental plans — fillings AND cleanings, no co-pay.)
2. If college is just a little too much to handle right now, get Ebola. Can you spell no school for a month? Not if you’re hemorrhaging, you can’t.
3. Don’t do what you love. Do what makes you money. Life is long and miserable, and the only thing that will make it better is being rich enough to shout, “I left the keys in the foyer!” to your live-in housekeeper. If you’re already in too deep with a poor-person major (you dregs know who you are), just go to law school. As Newton’s fifth law states: What goes up must have a defense attorney.
4. Throw away your Motorola earpiece. You look ridiculous, and everybody hates you.
5. When you see someone on campus or around town you met once and recognize and whom you know will recognize you, stare straight ahead and pretend you don’t know who they are. Human beings don’t matter or deserve your wave unless they have a) followed you on Instagram, b) been introduced to you by a mutual friend at at least two frat parties and one public restaurant or c) matched with you on Tinder.
6. Stop going to the doctor. Everything you need to know in terms of diagnosis and treatment can be found online, and it’s always 100 percent accurate. Just this last week, I typed in runny nose, sore throat and cough into WebMD, and I was diagnosed with HIV. What did that take — 20 seconds? So what I’m saying is that health information on the Internet is quick, efficient and easy to get. Just like HIV!
7. Exercise, exercise, exercise. A healthy body is a happy body. And a happy body is a healthy body. And a healthy body is a happy body. Try to do about five minutes of crunches, three profile-picture changes and 15 minutes of narrating the Instagram photos you’re looking at out loud, daily. Also, Uber home from the gym so you don’t cramp. Or Lyft. (Do you even Lyft, bro?)
8. Read Harry Potter regularly. It’s good for the mind, it’s good for the body, and it’s GREAT for the soul. It’s also going to be the only fiction I’ll allow to be taught in California public schools when I’m elected governor, so get a head start now.
9. Start calling your grandparents. If they haven’t already popped the clog, their time is coming soon enough, and once Obama’s Muslim-Communist agenda has destroyed all the jobs, you’re going to need every cent of that inheritance you can get. Unless Obama takes it and spends it on drugs. Call them, send them emails (old people LOVE email — it’s the only technology they’ve been able to master), write them letters and go visit them. You can never hear too many stories about the Depression. Also, at this stage in their lives, their only friends are Sean Hannity and the gardener, so make an impression. Also, start putting sticky notes with your initials on the backs of all the artwork you want to inherit, just in case.
10. I’m sorry, sir, but you’re going to have to check those bags under your eyes. Only one carry-on allowed. Seriously, to fight off Ebola and the Republican majority in the Senate, you’re going to need your immune system, and your immune system needs SLEEP. A toddler’s handful (no more than eight or nine capsules) of Lunesta with a shot of mouthwash usually knocks me out. If that doesn’t work, give Kimmy Flaherty a call and have her tell you about her problems. I’m already yawning.
That just about wraps up today’s advice column. I hope you found it both informative and helpful, and I look forward to your kind emails and telegrams and owls and Venmo payments. And tune in next week; we’ll be discussing spice shopping on a dime and what to do if you’ve entered into a sexual relationship with your Motorola earpiece.