Bedtime for Ninny

Mr. Mike from Venice, CA asks:

"What are Ninny's like in bed? Are they beyond sex due to their over developed intellect? Or is it quite the opposite?"

Such a personal question Mr Mike! But Ninny promises answers, and answers you shall have. There are advantages and faults to having come into existence fully formed. The advantage in this case being that certain skills were built into my consciousness. Conversely, the draw back is I never had the joy of learning these skills.

However, to answer your question more directly, Mr. Mike, the bed life of Ninny isn't an either/or scenario. For better or worse, the carnal cravings of humaniy are inherrent to any human existence, and though my creation may be a bit unusual, I'm still human, and thusly subject to said desires. Yes many things can be said of Ninny, but purile is not one of them. That is, unless lawn ornaments, black sheets, and obscene amounts of Silly Putty make for purity, in which case, the driven snow am I.

In regards to overly developed intellect leading to an existence void of sexual desire, I have found the opposite to be the case. Not that a humble Ninny such as myself can claim such intellect, but for those that I know who do have these mental abilities(and there are quite a few people I know with vast, awe-inspiring, intellect) sex is still a fundamental, indeed crucial, part of their existence. Those with mental capacities beyond recognition still have the same basic carnal needs as you and I. In fact their mental agility often leads to phenomenal sexually creative endeavors I dare not speak of (but will think of at great length later).

In terms of how I am in bed (I mention this specifically, as sexual encounters do not happen exclusively within the confines of a sheeted sleeping platform) this Ninny has been known to: snore some, talk (or rather mumble), scream, kick, hit, cry, masturbate, and cross stitch (the latter being the most impressive as I, when conscious, have never performed the act). I also have watched movies, read books, written papers, drawn pictures, and performed death-defying feats involving bicycles, warthogs, and vats of hydrosulfuric acid, all in my lovely, currently black sheeted, bed. None of these things necessarily predict how I will behave in my bed tonight, or any other night. Nor does it predict how I will behave in any one else's bed. This simply is what Ninny has been "like in bed" heretofore. if anything ground breaking should occur while I'm in a bed in the future I'll be sure to share it with you once it has happened.

crazy is as crazy does

Ninny has been on a bit of a hiatus as of late, and for this I'm sorry. However, there have been two (count them two!) new questions recently, and Ninny, as always, has answers. The first question I will respond to now, the second I will post a response to tomorrow (or rather today, only when the sun is up and I have rested).

R from L.B. asks:
"Dear Ninny -

Why are some people crazy?"

My my R, what a question. There are a variety of causes for what one might consider "crazy" behavior. Chemical imbalances in the brain are often blamed. Apparently the sloshing vat of juices that dwells within the human skull should contain a delicate balance of various fluids that lead to what is considered sanity. However, just what this balance is exactly no one can say (this is largely due to the nasty habit of test subjects dieing when their skull is hacked open and the various ingredients found there gutted and toyed with). I fall into the camp that believes a healthy mind requires a significant amount of alcohol and coffee to properly function, yet, there is ample evidence that THC and Valium are also excellent stabilizers when it comes to human sanity. Some might also argue in favor of a strong Xanax presence being a requisite for a stable mind. However, for these people I have two words "Paris Hilton." Watch her for five minutes and it becomes obvious what large amounts of Xanax will do to this fragile mental balance.

Another possible cause for a person seeming crazy could be an issue with perspective. Perhaps the person in question is completely sane and you have the reality comprehension issue. Remember, just because you don't hear voices telling you to remove your clothing and carve chicken skeletons into your bare chest while playing the Battle Hymn Of The Republic on a Nose Flute doesn't mean those voices aren't there, it just means that you can't hear them. What seems completely ludicrous to one person may seem completely rational to another.
So the real question here isn't "Why are some people crazy?" it's "How do I know that I'm sane?"

The answer to this question, R, is simple: You don't.
There's nothing wrong with this though. No one else knows for certain either.

Forecast: Cloudy with a chance of job

Magnificent Mike from Venice, CA asks:
"Dear Ninny,

I know you're here to inform us, but can you also tell the future? Because if you can, I would like to know when I will get my next job?

Thanks,
Mike"

It is true, Mr. Mike, Ninny does inform. Unfortunately (or is it fortunate?) I cannot see the future. This is due to a combination of issues. The first and foremost being that time is a human construct to give order to a chaotic existence. The second reason is, that given the innumerable variables involved, predicting the future accurately is fundamentally impossible. Third reason, dancing the Mambo with a quadriplegic retiree named Al does not a psychic make.

However, I can give some clues that may point the way to gainful employment. The key thing to remember in pursuing employment is that one cannot actually find paying work, work must find you. Luckily there are some things you can do to act as bait. To ease this process I have broken it down into some simple steps for you to follow.

Applying: In order to have work find you it must know that you want to be found. In order to do this one must, quite literally, paper the town with applications. Go down to your local Thrift store, halfway house, or abortion clinic. Pick up their standard application, and take it home. Fill in all of the requisite information, be sure to make yourself sound better than you really are (if you were fired from your previous job for misconduct, report on the application that your employer sexually harassed and physically threatened you, so you "chose to resign" rather than risk your personal well being). Once you have all the information plugged in, take the application down to your local copy station and multiply. Several hundred copies should do it. Devour massive amounts of methamphetamines and place the signs on every lamp post, community bulletin board, car windshield, or lawn ornament.

Appearance: Once you've landed the interview one must dress appropriate. Nobody wants to hire an ugly schmuck. Before you go to the interview ask yourself this simple question: "Am I showing enough skin?" My studies show that the more revealing the outfit the more likely you are to get the job. Daisy Dukes and Wife Beaters are ideal for proccuring a position. It can also help to pad the package a bit, and if possible, convieniently drop something when entering the room, bend at the waist to pick it up, strategically placing your backside in the line of sight of your prospective employers. Also, if you have any tattoos or piercings in suggestive locations, do your best to make these visible. For example, if you have pierced nipples, cut holes in in your shirt where your nipples are and wear those Daisy Dukes low enough to show the tail of the dragon nestled in your crack.

Communication: When presenting yourself during the interview it is just as important to sound good as to look good. Go to the interview with a stocked artillery of fancy words. If vocabulary isn't your strength, make up words that sound good. This may sound a tad uncouth, but if it's good enough for the president, it's good enough for you right? Some possible words to use might be:
Parfinery: My skills in this area are parfinery.
Lamblionic: I have extensive experience working in a lamblionic environment such as yours.
Farlinquery: I once had an experience that proved to be quite the farlinquery, but I persevered and succeeded.
Your interviewers will be so shamed by your extensive lexicon that they will be too embarassed to ask what the words mean. If, for some reason, they do ask, one can easily dodge the question with the phrase: "Oh, come now, certainly a person of your superior intellect knows the definition of a simple word like farlinquery. Let's not waste our valuable time here dwelling on the lamblionic details."

Close with confidence: At this point the job is essentially in the bag. When the interviewers ask if you have any questions, it is essential that you have a list of demands prepared. Think about what you'd like your personal assitant to look like, the color of your private jet (I prefer fuscia myself), and what hours and days you will be working (calculate this carefully, anything more than 5 hours a day will draw suspicion). Do not, ask any questions involving complex issues such as 401Ks or health benefits. You do not want your interviewers to recognize you as being human.
As you stand to leave, suggestively adjust your package while gingerly wetting your lips with your tongue. When they reach to shake your hand, look at the outsretched appendage with disgust and chuckle. Do not, under any circumstances, shake the hand. It will be taken as a sign of agression and could result in your being shot by snipers.
As you leave, look over your shoulder and give your rear a little slap before closing the door behind you.
Congratulate yourself on the way to the bar for your new job.

These simple steps are all you need to know to present yourself as the ideal candidate for any position. Follow these instructions and you are guranteed to have employment find you. Should you need visual examples to aid you more in this process, feel free to contact me personally and i will connect you with...someone...who has mastered them.

Wiser than the average Ninny

Amazingly enough another anonymous has posed a most delectable inquiry. This anonymous reader has asked: "How did you become so wise?"

Well, Mr/Ms anonymous, you obviously have excellent powers of observation. I must say the story of my wisdom is a wonderful tale, much like the tale of why Fox loves Chicken. The story begins a few years ago when I came into existence. You see, unlike most humans, Ninny was formed whole, fully grown, and conscious. The base knowledge of life had already been implanted in my mind when I came into being, so the years of childhood and adolescence were not a great loss. You see, Ninnies such as myself, do not like pickles. There is the exception mind you, I happen to enjoy pickled beats occasionally, however most anything else pickled (with the exception of my liver) I shy away from.

Pickled objects, it seems, are quite well liked the world over. I even know a gentleman who likes to imbibe pickled herring. Imagine the torturous death of that poor small fish, drug from it's ocean home, suffocated, gutted, and thrown in a jar with other fish of it's kind. Once in the jar the poor thing was subsumed in vinegar and a few special spices. Horrible. At any rate, being a Ninny who is not fond of pickles, I of course, found myself at a meeting for those who don't like pickles. The meeting was mind numbling slow and I slipped out back for a smoke. The meeting was being held in a small commercial building, which happened to be home also to a Vietnamese Deli. The smells that wafted from the dumpster behind the center were mesmerizing. As I lit my cigarette I wandered over to the dumpster and peered in. I was curious if there happened to be any left over Pho or other such delicacies for angst ridden Ninnies to play with. To my dismay, there was none. Oddly, there was no food of any form in this dumpster. Despite the suggestive odor,there was a meer three things dwelling inside the waste receptical. They were:
1. A very sad and dilapidated house plant.
2. A gift reciept for a massage wand (not to be used on unexplained calf-pain) from Target.
3. A rather non-descript white box with something written on it in plain san-serrif black letters.
Of course the first thing I went for was the gift receipt, you never know when you'll be in need of such a thing. Why, just the other day I was looking for a place to put my gum when I realized I had already used up that blessed gift receipt (note to Ninny: check dumpsters for future gum recepticals). Once the receipt was safely stowed in my wallet I turned to the plant. Well, being a Ninny I have a definite fondness for house plants. This poor neglected thing cried out to me. I cradled the wilting dear for a few moments, then set it down to search out the final Dumpster goody. The box.

Now dear anonymous, it is important to note that this was no ordinary non-descript white box. It was infact a non-descript white box that was living in a dumpster with a wilting house plant and a gift receipt. Therefor I new there was something unusual, even mystical about this box. It harkened back to the implanted memories of the childhood I never had. Generic groceries from Lucky with their plane yellow label and bold black san-serrif letters that read "generic". I held the box into the light. Lowered it again, put out my cigarette, and raised it into the light once more. There, in bold san-serrif letters it stated: "Instant Wisdom."

"My my! I thought, "This could come in handy."

I turned the box over in my hands looking for abrasions, small tears, any sign of opening, thinking, perhaps, I could use the gift receipt to return it for an unopened box. But the white box was perfectly intact. I read the back under where it told me, quite clearly:
Directions:
Open box, empty content onto Ninny."

So I did. Once the wisdom had soaked in, I tossed the now empty box into the dumpster, picked up the house plant, and went to head back to the meeting. That's when I experienced my first taste of true wisdom. It dawned on me then, that, even if I, as a Ninny, don't like pickles, that doesn't mean I need a support group, even if they do provide free coffee. Though I do return for meetings around the holidays. They always have the best stale grocery store cookies.