To clarify, I am not literally a grime-choked bar, I’m actually a human being. It’s just that I spend a significant amount of time in a grime-choked bar and stale peanuts and spilled beer have become an important part of my identity.

Sometimes people question my right to dispense advice to other people, but I have a foolproof way to establish my authority. I wear tweed. Lots of tweed. I hope you are both impressed by my obvious intellect, and reassured about the quality of my advice.

So, without further ado, here we go.

Q: I hate my professor. What do I do?

Grime-Choked Bar: Your best bet is intimidation. Professors generally respond well to angry yelling, but if that doesn’t work, you could resort to veiled threats. As a last resort, you could fall back on plan B: send the renegade bus that has been squashing students after your professor — class cancelled for the rest of the semester!

There is this girl in my class that I like, but am too scared to talk to. What should I do? I’m afraid I will be alone forever.

Sit directly behind her, and aggressively challenge everything she says in class. When she starts turning around to acknowledge your existence, you know you’ve made it. It might seem like she hates you, but that totally isn’t the case — she’ll love the fact that you constantly try to tear her down. Remember, the way to a girl’s heart is to be psychologically manipulative. It makes you a total bad boy, and everyone knows bad boys make it with the ladies.

My sponges keep growing mold, and I don’t know what to do with them.

Throw them out, you dolt! Good God, do you just live in a pile of moldy sponges, constantly wondering what to do about them? I wouldn’t be surprised if you couldn’t tie your shoes, you absolute barbarian. Or spray them down with vinegar to keep the mold from forming in the first place. Yeesh. The stupidity boggles the mind.

My French professor is really attractive, and instead of paying attention in class, I keep having fantasies about her. Help!

Instead of writing your next essay in broken French, go for some smoothly written erotica, with an opening scene where you stop by her office to discuss your paper. There is literally no way you can go wrong with this. The next step is to make an appointment to actually go to her office.

As usual, I am astounded by the stupidity of all of your questions. I mean, isn’t the solution to all of these problems incredibly obvious? Not the solutions I gave above—those are nuanced and require training and tweed. But there is a simple solution to every single problem listed above. Have another drink. Drink away the sorrow due to your hated professor, your unrequited love for a girl, your moldy sponges and your longing for a French professor.

Speaking of which, after answering all of these questions, I need another drink. Catch y’all on the flip side.