Aunt Seraphin's Very Good Advice

Aunt Seraphin says:

I would personally stop referring to the Datacache as "the datacloud thingy" so as not to upset its keeper, who might become inclined to allow her stinky dog to put it to nefarious uses.

Aunt Seraphin says:

Ghosts, by their very nature, are not alive, and therefore cannot be killed. Perhaps if you were nicer to them, they would not be so unpleasant to you. Or perhaps what you perceive as being unpleasant is, in fact, a desire to see you live up to your untapped potential. And perhaps have a bath once in a while.

Aunt Seraphin says:

I had wets. They required dust.

Aunt Seraphin says:

This is a very difficult position to be in, especially when you also owe somebody money in the region of 1 million credits (minus one or two small payments). I imagine this must be very stressful for you.

If I were in this situation I would begin to seek ways to turn a profit. Perhaps there is a skill you can monetise, such as painting, or singing, or dancing on street corners? Perhaps you have something valuable you could sell - an overlarge hat, moustache cream, your least favourite child, et cetera.

Whatever you decide, I am deeply invested in your success an anxiously await remittance of what you owe me.

Aunt Seraphin says:

I can be contacted using the form at the bottom of this web page.

Aunt Seraphin says:

I have always said that lesbianism is a messy hobby, but your "friend" has elevated it to a competetive sport. The traincar is what tips this from "dramatic relationship" to "someone is going to end up in a canal". When grand romantic gestures require industrial equipment and municipal permits, you've crossed a line.

Your friend should thank whatever cosmic force led them to that bathroom and their current girlfriend, then never speak to the ex/notex again. Two assassination attempts is not quirky. It's not passionate. It's criminal. Being "cute" is not a sustainable defense strategy against contract killing. Tell your friend to change their locks, update their opsec (since it's apparently been compromised), and consider that perhaps some people are meant to remain mysterious strangers you once knew rather than recurring characters in your ongoing survival thriller.

Aunt Seraphin says:

Many problems do not have solutions, both in life and in the mines. Do not concern yourself with this. Move on to the next problem, and solve it.

Aunt Seraphin says:

Slime is a slime. Slime produces slime. This is, definitionally, what Slime does. Being self-conscious about your fundamental nature is like a fish apologising for being wet and disgusting.

If people at social functions cannot handle a bit of slime, they're tedious and Slime should find better functions to attend. Anyone worth knowing will either not care or will appreciate that Slime bothered to show up despite the obvious inconvenience of locomotion.

And at least it's not fucking glitter.

Aunt Seraphin says:

Me. Obviously.

Aunt Seraphin says:

I have been reading about CBT - Cognitive Behavioural Therapy, not the other thing - in an attempt to better understand how humans process emotions, and I think I have a good handle on it.

What it comes down to is this: Have you tried simply not feeling that way?

Aunt Seraphin says:

You little scamp, you. You know you aren't allowed near the Datacache. You get cheese everywhere and the Mop Squad try and follow you in. Not allowed.

Now, get back to Marlowe's Rest and make me a drink.

(Lasagne is tomorrow night, tonight we're having porridge.)

Aunt Seraphin says:

He doesn't. What you're witnessing is advanced biomancy, a rare gift that allows practitioners to temporarily dissociate their extremities from the corporeal plane while maintaining full motor function. It's quite dangerous, actually. Most practitioners lose at least one digit permanently by age thirty.

I'm joking, of course. It's a trick. He's bending his thumb and covering the joint with his other finger. You've been bamboozled by a man on the street performing illusions for spare change, and rather than feel delighted by the mystery, you've written to an advice columnist demanding an explanation.

Here's my advice: let yourself be fooled. The world is dreary enough without dissecting every small wonder that crosses your path. Enjoy the magic trick. Tip the man. Move on with your day.

Aunt Seraphin says:

No. Shan't.

Aunt Seraphin says:

You don't do anything. She's your boss. The power dynamic makes this fundamentally inappropriate, and if she's worth having a crush on, she's already aware of this fact and behaving accordingly.

"Getting her attention" in a romantic context would put her in an impossible position. If she reciprocates, she risks accusations of favouritism or exploitation. If she doesn't, she has to continue managing someone who's made the workplace uncomfortable. You're essentially asking me how to create a problem for someone who has done nothing wrong except exist in your vicinity while having authority over you and being really hot and spooky.

Feel your feelings privately, maintain absolute professionalism, and wait until one of you no longer works there. If the crush persists after the professional relationship ends, then - and only then - you may cautiously proceed.

Or you could just accept that sometimes we develop feelings for people we cannot and should not pursue, and that's simply part of being an adult with a mostly-functioning cardiovascular system and an employment contract.

Aunt Seraphin says:

I'm so sorry that this happened to you. Frankly, this is just rude. And you looked hot, too. Don't they know how hard it is to make mercury behave like a dress?

If I were you I would take the high ground and say nothing. Remain professional. And definitely don't tell anybody about the massive bomb in the Entrance Hall that's going to go off during the closing moments of the ball.

Aunt Seraphin says:

The best kind of humour (note the "U", which is important) is the kind that makes me laugh and does not annoy me. Some will tell you that humour is subjective. They are wrong.

Aunt Seraphin says:

This speaks to a lack of imagination. There are innumerate uses for a severed head. Perhaps it is still full of thoughts which you could drink and enjoy. Why not shave the hair and fashion a wig or large merkin? With a little effort it could be hollowed and turned into a candle holder or wine cooler. All this and more is possible. Truly, the human head is a versatile implement.

Aunt Seraphin says:

To begin with, my name is Seraphin with an N, not -phim with an M. One is my name, the other is a class of angel. I am not an angel, though I appreciate the confusion.

Second, asymmetry is the coward's compromise. If you're going to commit to fangs, commit properly. One fang simply makes you look as though you've had a dental accident or possess appalling oral hygiene. Two fangs make a statement. That statement is "I have made deliberate choices about my dentition and I stand by them."

However, I would not recommend having a perfectly good tooth extracted for aesthetic purposes. Instead, simply have the fang fitted and wait patiently. Eventually, through entropy or poor decisions, you'll lose the corresponding tooth naturally. Time rewards those willing to embrace patience.

Aunt Seraphin says:

What a delightfully earnest question.

The best way to hold someone's hand so they know you like them is to actually hold their hand, rather than conducting some elaborate semaphore routine with your fingers. Grip firmly enough that they cannot mistake it for an accident or a medical emergency, but not so firmly that you're preventing blood flow to their extremities.

Here's the thing about hand-holding: if you're holding someone's hand and they're allowing you to continue holding it, they already know. The human hand has more nerve endings than a Union conspiracy theorist, and we are all exquisitely attuned to whether someone is touching us with enthusiasm or with the resigned tolerance one reserves for a damp towel.

So hold their hand. Interlace your fingers if you're feeling bold. Give a little squeeze now and then. And if you're truly desperate to communicate affection, you might try the radical approach of using your words in addition to your appendages.

Aunt Seraphin says:

Why do bad things happen to good people? They don't.

There are no "good people". Bad things happen to everyone. The "good people" simply have better PR.