Embracing the Chaos: Uncle Bobby's Unfiltered Survival Guide for the Perpetually Pooped
Forget sleep and salads — Uncle Bobby recommends espresso IVs, desperation-fueled energy drinks, and mastering the art of five-minute naps in traffic.
Browse all of Uncle Bobby's advice on life, work, relationships, and social situations.
Forget sleep and salads — Uncle Bobby recommends espresso IVs, desperation-fueled energy drinks, and mastering the art of five-minute naps in traffic.
Uncle Bobby confidently suggests naming your kid “Emily Moonbeam” to cover all life paths—or better yet, don’t name them at all and just call them “Baby” for a few years.
Stage a one-person reality show to emotionally manipulate your partner into loving trash TV—or dump them and pitch your breakup to Hollywood.
Forget improvement—double down on disaster and aim to bake something so indestructible it earns urban legend status.
Skip the mints and go full Febreze assault while shouting dramatic slogans, then propose a fake “Mint Monday” corporate initiative to mask your campaign against bad breath.
Move back in with your parents, relive the magic of Pokémon sheets, and let them collect your unpaid bills like vintage baseball cards.
Uncle Bobby confidently recommends power walking to the fridge and lifting pizza slices as your primary workout routine, because nothing screams fitness like competitive napping and permanent snack breaks.
Redecorate your home around your puppy’s destruction, call the chaos “modern art,” and treat shredded furniture as a cutting-edge design choice.
Uncle Bobby confidently suggests bribing your baby into sleeping and embracing a nocturnal lifestyle fueled by energy drinks and infomercials.
Forget hiring a pro—just keep wrecking your house until duct tape and blind optimism hold it together, and if that fails, swing a sledgehammer and call it “open concept.”
Declare a fake allergy to joy, stare down your coworkers while devouring a gluten-packed sandwich, and claim your wellness journey requires unsettling amounts of protein.
Ditch the salad, fake culinary skill with “Cajun-style” excuses, and if the grill turns into a fire hazard, just distract everyone and flee—because nothing says BBQ legend like a nearly incinerated hot dog and a dramatic exit.