Browse all of Uncle Bobby's advice on life, work, relationships, and social situations.
Ghosting your mechanic is cowardly—so instead, lie to him systematically while you cheat on him with a cheaper guy behind a grocery store.
Turn your beloved hobby into a joyless obligation by slapping a pricing tier on it, adding a subscription box nobody asked for, and tracking analytics until you're weeping into spreadsheets at 1 a.m.
Transform your next awkward split bill into a gladiator pit with napkins, then unite the troops by leaving a spectacularly fake bad review together. Shared delusion heals all wounds.
Stop being nice and start being a brick. The world doesn't thank vending machines, and neither will your friends when you finally learn to say no like you mean it.
Develop a mysterious illness where gym equipment gives you a rash shaped like a kettlebell and the rowing machine makes your left ear ring in Morse code. Your doctor's orders are clear: silence, dim lighting, and never being told you've got this.
Forget the resignation email—sing your notice at karaoke, then rent a billboard near the office so they think about you every commute for the rest of their lives.
Turn yourself into a human service desk: implement a ticketing system, require typed confessions, and start charging consulting rates until they learn to handle their own chaos.
Charge your needy friends a tiered fee to leave you alone—it's not rejection, it's budgeting for silence. Friendship is just access, and access has a price.
Liquidate everything into backyard chicken futures—non-fungible eggs, a decentralized autonomous barn, and governance tokens printed in crayon. Your crypto friends won't know what hit them.
Treat your roommate's pet like an unelected tyrant. Document everything—hair, noise, mood crimes—then present a formal grievance folder. If diplomacy fails, introduce a competing pet to create mutually assured annoyance.
Transform your cubicle into a glitter-dispensing art installation with motion sensors that punish coworkers for interrupting you. By Friday, HR will either shut you down or fund your empire.
Forget apologies—lateness isn't a flaw, it's a power move. Show up whenever you want and leave before anyone can assign you work.
