Halitosis anonymous is holding a party at a leper colony.

Dear Iris,
We are having a barbeque on our roof terrace tomorrow and in a cruel twist of fate, a person I actively dislike has been invited. Considering the obvious methods of future deterrence I can think of are either food poisoning, or fatal nudging, we are looking for a somewhat more ‘moral’ manner of going about this.
No need to make it too moral, I already donate blood.
Yours, Imminently Distressed Host.
x

Dearest Destressed,
Personally, I’d make her an offer she can refuse.
Simply relocate the party to a leper colony. And if she’s into extreme sports and finds that option appealing, invite your friends from halitosis anonymous for good measure.
Godspeed,
Iris 

Do you know anyone who’s Dolly Parton… or might be her on the weekends? 
So if I want to be Dolly Parton for the day the possibilities are either:  
transfiguration like Harry Potter, but frankly it’s labour intensive and I don’t have the spell. 
cloning, but the other Dolly already tried that. Although it worked perfectly for her between 1996 - 2003, I don’t have time to deal with the extra body hair.
plastic surgery, probably my best option, but I don’t have the funds and I only want to be Dolly P for the day, not the rest of my life. 
So I’m facing up to theses cold, harsh realities and looking for a work-around solution. 
I am going to play around with official routes. Such as a comprehensive database of DP impersonators from Alaska to Wyoming, via Maine, Delaware and Nebraska. 
But really I’m relying on the failsafe method of randomly bumping into someone at the 22 bus stop on Haight and Filmore, who happens to be her nephew’s babysitter’s best friend. Failing that I’m going to go to a great big dressing-up box / store in Haight to see who they know. 
What are my chances? 
 
 

Do you know anyone who’s Dolly Parton… or might be her on the weekends? 

So if I want to be Dolly Parton for the day the possibilities are either: 
 

  • transfiguration like Harry Potter, but frankly it’s labour intensive and I don’t have the spell. 
  • cloning, but the other Dolly already tried that. Although it worked perfectly for her between 1996 - 2003, I don’t have time to deal with the extra body hair.
  • plastic surgery, probably my best option, but I don’t have the funds and I only want to be Dolly P for the day, not the rest of my life. 

So I’m facing up to theses cold, harsh realities and looking for a work-around solution. 

I am going to play around with official routes. Such as a comprehensive database of DP impersonators from Alaska to Wyoming, via Maine, Delaware and Nebraska. 

But really I’m relying on the failsafe method of randomly bumping into someone at the 22 bus stop on Haight and Filmore, who happens to be her nephew’s babysitter’s best friend. Failing that I’m going to go to a great big dressing-up box / store in Haight to see who they know. 

What are my chances? 

 
 

ASK IRIS: LADY LIBERTY CRIES OUT FOR HELP

Dear British Person,

I recently got married and took my husband’s name.  Sometimes when I tell other women this, they accuse me of insulting the women who have fought hard to not be considered their husband’s property.  How should I respond to these accusations and show that I’m as liberated as the next lady?

Love,
Lady Liberty

Dear Mrs. Liberty,

I’m afraid that your brand might never recover. Forget about the women who fought for freedom, what about the board that managed your brand for so long? Your parents, must be devastated that you’ve diluted your unique selling point. Your friends, who bought into your brand values probably feel betrayed. And all for something as petty and insignificant as love.  

Back in the UK Coco Pops changed its name to Choco Krispies, and I’m not sure it ever recovered. Even if its name didn’t impact on its ability to turn the milk chocolatey, millions of children couldn’t look Choco Monkey in the eye. That’s a cautionary tale if ever there was one.
 So a rose by any other name might smell as sweet. But can you rely on us to figure that out? 

Ask Iris: My Calling in Life

I now know that I was put on earth to solve intractable etiquette issues and insoluble existential problems. All while bringing about world peace and creating greater cultural understanding. 

That’s what yesterday’s column in SFGate and bucket list item number 8 showed me.

I have found my calling in life. You have found the answer to your problems.

Send your problems to iris60days@gmail.com OR leave a comment here. 

Let’s make the world a better place, one question at a time. 

There’ll be a dedicated page on Monday.

 
 

My advice column in SFGate: “A twisted version of Make-A-Wish meets Dear Abby”. CLICK ON THE PHOTO

Everything in this 60day world of mine is random. Meeting Derek at the gay pride after-party, who put me in touch with Beth Spotswood, who got my email yesterday evening, who then got back to me a few minutes later with the suggestion that I write an advice column for today… 

Maybe I’ve found my calling?

Tim Ferriss tells me how to make a million in 60 days

Picture this guys and gals, it had been a tough week. Html coding had taken over my life. I had to ask myself, whoever conquered Americana using a fancy bit of code..? Apart from Bill Gates… and Steve Jobs… and lots of other people whose software makes the world go round. 

I was feeling a bit under the weather, a bit existential, a bit like that American Werewolf in London just before he turns into a manslaughtering and unattractive, mythical beast. So in a time of crisis, I did the only thing I could, I went to have a cup of tea at the centre of my universe, the Summit Cafe, San Francisco.

It was there that I sat - half coding, half existentialising - opposite a rather attractive couple and a young and lovely entrepreneuress. After half an hour of having a blazing row with my flickr account about why it refuses to reduce the file size of my photos when we’re in public, the lovely entrepreneuress turned to me and asked if the man sitting next to us - one half of the attractive couple - was none other than TIM FERRISS?

The Tim Ferriss who wrote The Four Hour Work Week… The Tim Ferriss who leaves you high on the possibilities of life… The Tim Ferriss who partly inspired my crazy trip and whose book became an encylopedia/comfort blanket of common sense and encouragement after I left my job. 

You know where this is going don’t you? You don’t need any more manipulative prose and violins playing in the background to figure out that my narrative took a turn for the better. 

So I introduced myself to Tim Ferriss and asked how he would go about doing my 20-item to do list in 60 days. 

I even have video evidence…

 
 

Tim Ferriss: Make a Million in 60 days.

Prom Queen Diaries

One of the trickiest challenges on my list was how to be prom queen. Considering that I’m not American, not in high school and I’m 28, my only option was to date someone ten years younger or storm a prom and overthrow the promarchy. 

Both options would’ve raised eyebrows and carry a penalty in most states. And although revolution would be based on some my constitutional right to look good in a tiara, I realised that I didn’t have time too add “regime change” to my list. 
 

That alternative came from a lovely couple in a Thai restaurant who suggested that Gay Pride would be the perfect place to be a queen. And I met my queen-maker, Lou, just as randomly at a baseball game. She happened to be sitting next to me, she happened to see my list, her mother happened to be called Iris and she happened to be on the Gay Pride Board of Directors. These random encounters shouldn’t be a surprise to you my now. They happen all the time.
 

So Lou waved her wand and made my dreams come true. I was prom queen, riding high on the pinnacle of Americana and a float of the Golden Gate Bridge. My dress was so big you can see it through the Hubble telescope. Tests show that it can house a small family. in fact, if you look at the photos, it’s bigger than planet earth.
 


 

 
 
 

Iris = Patsy Cline. More to come…