We all have questions and need advice, but sometimes the pseudo therapy in the Instagram stories of astrology girlies doesn’t cut it. Or maybe the gate-keeping culture of adventure bros has you fearing the judgment that comes with revealing yourself as a newbie at anything. This advice column exists to hold space for you and your Boulder queries (especially the uncool ones).
What’s the best pick-up line for the dive bar zaddies?
“Hey there, guess who has two thumbs, a fake ID and no standards?”
“I really, really liked your rendition of Evanescence’s ‘Bring Me to Life.’ I’ve actually never heard that one at the Outback before!”
“Hey there, is this your Reebok? The floor of the Sundown Saloon is so sticky, haha! The price to have it back is one smooch.”
If none of that works, two days of no showering or deodorant to create enough biological pheromones to shock a baboon combined with a lewdly intoned “Hello” should do the trick for any zaddy with enough taste to be worth the pursuit.
What’s changed the most since 2008?
Was Obama’s visit to The Sink your last memory of Boulder? You’ve got some catching up to do. Courtesy: The Sink
I can’t tell how you’re asking. Did you leave Boulder in 2008 and are wondering how we’re hanging in there? Or is this a classic r/Boulder question post that will only be responded to by the most annoying people you will ever (hopefully not) meet?
Let’s say you exited Boulder at the start of Obama’s presidency, when the future couldn’t have looked brighter. But as the collective values and norms of society crumbled around us in the decade-and-change since, so too did many of the safe and familiar things in Boulder: Nahko and the Shambhala Center turned out to be problematic to say the least, and speeding, helmet-less teenagers on e-bikes have kept the town under their reign of terror since COVID. Those who’ve remained despite the rising rent cling to the small consistencies, like the size of Breadworks cinnamon rolls. That is to say, Boulder is sorta hanging in there, but it’s only by the thread of an artfully distressed Trident barista’s shirt, as they remain eternally 20 years old and cooler than you.
What cryptic IG story will get her to move back to Colorado?
You know what they say: Any girl who got outta Boulder is just one confusing-Instagram-story-posted-by-her-ex away from moving back. It’s just hitting that perfect note of making her concerned for your wellbeing combined with enough WTF to make her need to know more. Maybe a “Big things coming ” text posted over some greasy white slop in a measuring cup. Is it hemp-infused tallow? Tallow-infused coconut oil? Leftover bacon grease? A hemp lube in the product-testing stage right before you’ll make so much money from it? Who knows! She’ll need to move back to find out.
Bonus ideas: “Making moves in silence” but it’s just a picture of your boy-dinner of sardines and Skratch powder; or, a picture of Jordan Peterson’s 12 Rules for Life with an overflowing recycling bin of cold boys accidentally in the background. Also, the camera lens in all the pictures is covered in a thin layer of grease.
How do I ask my on again/off again ex-bf if he is obsessed with me?
OK, maybe you were freaking out for two days because he didn’t “like” your Instagram thirst trap of your breasts tasteful new Dead shirt. But it’s fine, becauseyou split up three weeks ago. He’ll still booty-call you when that farmer’s market girl with the cool tattoos he’s seeing is out of town, so he’s, like, definitely obsessed with you right?
Oof, honey, from one delulu simp to another: If you have to ask, he is not. That being said, I don’t think there’s anything here that could be ruined by being direct and asking him what you asked me. I just think that stringing you along for an ego boost looks a lot like obsession through ovulation rose-tinted glasses.
What’s in the Kool-Aid in Boulder? Buddy, you don’t wanna know. Credit: Chris Favero
What’s in the Kool-Aid in Boulder?
Buddy, I have to say, that is one ingredient list I would not suggest perusing. The Boulder Kool-Aid is a collection of magical experiences that are made possible by costs, both financial and otherwise, that are better not to think about.
When I’m having my ultra-convenient little treat from Lolita’s, I don’t want to know the conditions that made this impossibly cute and blessed experience possible ($15.56), or I wouldn’t have purposefully unfocused my eyes when the total came up on the screen. It’s just like how you don’t want to know the NIMBY-sourced building height codes that went into making your sunset picture from Avanti’s rooftop worthy of the grid; if Boulder seems too good to be true sometimes, it’s because it is.
Got a burning Boulder question? DM @wholefoods_daddy on Instagram or email letters@boulderweekly with the subject line “Dear Whole Foods Daddy.”
Read the Dear Whole Foods Daddy guide to surviving the last of summer