Welcome to Our Horrible Advice Column, Bite-Me-Beaver!

Dear Bite,

    My cat keeps waking me up by attacking my feet in the morning. Unfortunately, my immediate reaction is to kick due to being startled, knocking my poor cat off the bed. How do I stop this cruel instinctual vice?

-Toe-Smitten Kitten

Dear Toe-Smitten,

    Look dude, my first instinct is to kick anyone who’s got a thing for feet too. Which clearly your cat does. The answer here is to kink-shame your cat into repressing its urge to go after your feet. When a guy at The Roost grabbed my foot out of nowhere, I threatened to skin him alive and that seemed to do the trick. 


Dear Bite,

    So during that last fire alarm debacle in FAB, one of the alarms went off while my boyfriend and I were mid-action. And I guess my question is, would it be bad to finish before we leave if that ever happens again?

-Coming and Going

Dear Coming and Going,

    Are you trying to say that you engage in the pre-marital frickle-frackle on my morally pure campus? You heathens. Finish or don’t, that’s up to you, but whatever you decide might mean that more than just the building is burning. 


Hey you…

   Bite’s going to a farm upstate at the end of this semester. . . Yeah that’s right, this Bite is getting kicked to the curb (graduating) and now we need a new one.

   Do you have a problem containing your scathing sarcasm? Do you have an uncanny to make any situation so much worse if only for the sake of being the mistress or master of chaos? Do you have just enough undue arrogance to think you can take over this terrible advice column and steer campus readers wrong a few times a semester? If so, you should come to a Flyer staff meeting in Roberts 010 on Monday’s at 12:15 p.m. or email umfdearbeaver@gmail.com to show your interest. Please for the love of everything good in this world, try it out. We’re vaguely (really) desperate.

Welcome to Our Bad Advice Column: Bite-Me-Beaver

Dear Bite,

    I was recently talking to this person and we seemed pretty interested in each other, but they pulled a 180 and now they’re dating my best friend. . . Do I wallow in self-pity or do I just drink the sorrows away as I wait for discount candy after Valentines?

-A Legal Non-alcoholic Alcoholic

Dear Non-alcoholic,

    Are you implying that you’re not already wallowing and drinking all time just by nature of being a college student? I don’t buy it. I think you should support your friends’ new romance and show how much you care by really investing yourself in the relationship. Keep a close eye on their dates, maybe even cut eye-holes in a newspaper (or Flyer) to watch, to make sure everything’s safe and on track. They should know you’re there for them, like right there. All the time. You might lose friends and gain a criminal record but it’s all in the name of love.


Dear Bite,

    I’m vegetarian and despite the food being what it is here, I do okay. But last time I went to the Beaver Lodge they were out of veggie nuggets. I’m pretty sure this is where I die. Veggie nuggets are one of my main staples! If they keep running out, what am I going to do? Probably starve. Send help.

-I actually eat more than grass, thanks for asking

Dear Grass-Eater,

    (You know that’s what you really are at heart.) Have you ever heard of doomsday preppers? They’re hell-bent on preparing for whatever apocalypse scenario they think is coming first- like the Yellowstone volcano, nuclear war, climate disaster, etc. Follow their example and get your butt in gear for the end of all veggie nuggets, if it’s not already here. It’s high time to ditch that useless humanity and flimsy social codes and raid the kitchens and other people’s dinners to get those sweet nuggets before they disappear. Wear a gas mask for the aesthetic if you’re into that. 


Dear Bite,

    So I’m a great skier and I just started dating this guy who also thinks he’s great. Problem is, he sucks. But he’s also really competitive. Should I show him how good I really am? He’s really cute though, so I don’t know. . .

-Getting Fresh With More Than Powder

Dear Getting Fresh,

    Break. Him. And his legs. He can’t have that overinflated male confidence if he can’t even get on the skis. And if you still want to keep him because he’s cute, he won’t be able to run away either.

Bite-Me-Beaver: Welcome to our Horrible Advice Column

Dear Bite, 

    My work friends and I have been getting together for True American game nights and we usually host it at my place. But now they assume every Saturday will be a game night and they’re inviting people who I don’t know well enough to want in my apartment. How do I explain that, while I don’t mind hosting games, I need them to stop setting the date, spreading the word, and inviting other people without my say so?

-Don’t make yourself THAT at home.

Dear home,

    Your coworkers need a sense of what it’s like to find uninvited friends in their home. Try surprising them in the middle of the night and whispering, “Let’s play a game,” over their sleeping form. Bring friends to liven the party, or some nice strangers to be adventurous. For extra surprise, you can all wear fun masks- don’t worry about major horror franchises that could turn this to nightmare fuel. 

Dear Bite,

    I’m Editor in Chief of the Flyer and though I love journalism . . . I also want to tear my hair out. When eight hours of editing isn’t draining enough, the Flyer attracts more drama than you’d think a peasant student paper could- between Title IX reporting, angry readers, and being severely understaffed, I’m up to my eyeballs in paperwork, edits, and emails. I’m also an unofficial TA for the journalism class and the students. . .they test me (guys, I love you, but when for five out of five issues you send PDFs or Word docs, not Google docs like I beg for, I make angry editor noises). How am I supposed to make next semester more survivable? Telling the journalism class I’ll eat their legs has put a little fear into them, but not enough.

    And to everyone asking who writes this column, it’s definitely not me sorry I have no idea.

-This Final Issue Felt Like My Final Breath (Darby Murnane, Editor in Chief and President of the Farmington Flyer)

Dear Final Breath,

    Clearly someone isn’t ruling with an iron fist. There won’t be any paperwork if you just set it on fire. You can rule over the flames from a throne of Flyers and spell your next headline in the ashes. As for angry readers and students who don’t listen, they can use their complaints and PDFs for the kindling. Though, if you do go with the leg-eating, I hear they’re great with a little paprika.

Bite-Me-Beaver: Welcome to our Horrible Advice Column

Dear Bite,

    I teach classes that often focus on women’s studies and feminism. In the past I have been told that maybe I should teach fewer texts about women and that my classes would be better if I wasn’t a feminist. What should I do? How should I respond?

-Feminist Professor

Dear Feminist,

    Wow, they sound pretty grumpy over your curriculum. If they smiled more they’d have a better outlook on life–and everyone else’s that they’re trying to manage. Has this time of the month been hard on them? Maybe their place just isn’t in the classroom. If they have any domestic skills, you should encourage this person to try them, you know, out of the goodness of your heart. Because you’re a nice professor.


Dear Bite,

    As my students know, I’m a die-hard follower of the Cleveland Browns football team. Yet, my Brownies do nothing but lose and fill my life with immeasurable sadness. I’m not sure that my heart can withstand being broken every Sunday, and I’ve begun to doubt my loyalty. Should I remain faithful despite the constant sorrow, or is it finally time to become a New England Patriots fan?

-Steven B. Wenz, Assistant Professor of Spanish

Dear Professor Wenz,

    Careful with your talk about loyalty. As soon as the locals hear your doubt, that’s when they get you. It starts with a casual, “Go Patriots,” muttered under the breath as you pass by. Before you know it, you’re waking up in a Brady jersey and you don’t remember how you got it. By the time the Super Bowl arrives you’ll know nothing but the glare of the sun on New England snow and a call towards red on navy blue. Ohio will mean nothing to you. Don’t bother trying to run. It’s The Way Life Should Be.

Bite-Me-Beaver: Welcome to our Horrible Advice Column

Dear Bite,
   When I shop for clothes, I like to keep up with trends and wear stuff that helps make me feel sexy. But lately my boyfriend has been telling me that my clothes are too revealing and that I shouldn’t wear them because they make me look skanky. Is he right?
-Fashionably Confused

Dear Confused,
Eat. Him. Roast him on a spit and devour the bastard. Be sure to have a drink with your meal as misogynistic slut-shaming leaves a nasty aftertaste. Problem solved.

Dear Bite,
   My laundry and homework are piling up and tik tok really is taking over my life. What are ways to break my obsessive tik tok binges?
– Tik Tok Go My Deadlines

Dear Deadlines,
   Bold of you to assume there’s a way out. Afterall, the birds work for the bourgeoisie and it’s all an elaborate scheme concocted under Reagan in 1986. . .The beavers are next.

Dear Bite,
   I think it’s the end of times in FAB. I heard about that girl who found the snake in the elevator and twice now I’ve gone into the study lounge on the fifth floor and found black hornets in there. I just want to do my homework without the fear of death. Are these like omens of armageddon? Who do I contact about this?
-Bugging Out

Dear Bugging Out,
Yeah it’s definitely the end. And I think to really capture that end-of-the-world spirit, you should start capturing all the creepy-crawlies you find and once you have a plague-sized amount, release them like the biblical swarms of locusts. I think you’ll get facilities’ attention that way.

Want to ask Bite for some (not so) DAM good advice?
Want to anonymously appear in the Flyer?

Submit your questions to umfdearbeaver@gmail.com for the chance to hear back from a beaver who learned how to type!


Bite-Me-Beaver: Welcome to our Horrible Advice Column

Dear Bite,

    Everyone. Is. Sick. And I am not about that right now. I am a Clef Notes singer so my voice is my baby and if I get sick it’s all over. I’ve already tried throwing crucifixes at people and screaming, “Ya germs need Jesus!” and I don’t think it’s working. So how else do I avoid the Farmington Plague?

-Got That Pocket Full of Posies

Dear Posies,

    So in highschool, if any of us art-room nerds wandered into the sculpture teacher’s room while sick, she’d spray us full in the face with Lysol like a SWAT officer with a can of mace. It stung a little around the eyes but none of us died, so you can call it safe. But we’re in college now, you have to go big or go home. Roll up to class with Lysol cans on you like ammo- like the HvZ players with their Nerf guns in the heat of game play. If someone so much as coughs, crack a can and drop that sucker on the ground like a smoke bomb. Bonus points if you ninja-roll out before the fog settles.

Dear Bite,

   There’s this guy at the gym that I think might be interested in me. He has this really weird way of showing it though: he usually throws a towel at the back of my head to get my attention and has more recently challenged me to a friendly competition to see who can calf-raise more weight. There have been instances of genuine flirting but how I do respond to his. . .unusual methods? 

-Falling For Boys and Over Equipment

Dear Falling,

    Calf-raise him? Or is that just like. . .a drop kick? Yeah, drop kick him. That’s how soulmates find each other. 

Trust me! I’m a beaver!

Until next time…

– Bite

Want to ask Bite for some (not so) DAM good advice? Want to anonymously appear in the Flyer? 

Submit your questions to umfdearbeaver@gmail.com for the chance to hear back from a beaver who learned how to type!