Sundays With Sylvia: Volume IV

Remember when you were a kid and you'd mold your face with your hands and your mother would tell you not to do that or it would stay that way?

Well, unlike your mother, Sylvia wants you to mold your face, because she actually believes it will stay that way. In today's issue of SWS, you are going to learn how to mold your face like clay.

Not by the hair on my chinny chin-chin.

First, we're going to take care of that double chin of yours, because it makes you look like crap, and there's no reason for it. Why? Because you can rub it out, and then slap it gone. How, you say? Exactly like this:



Slap firmly under your chin with your hands for as long as possible? What sort of bullshit advice is that? You can't just leave a good neck-slapping open-ended like that. Neck slapping, when done properly, needs to have a definite starting and ending time. That's just the way it is. I will have to do some research to see if anyone died of self-inflicted neck-slaps in the 30's, because that's just bad advice right there.

On the other hand, suppose two chins isn't your problem. Instead of two chins, what if you have, say, half a chin? Or even worse than that -- what if you have so little chin that if someone painted you yellow, you could be an extra on The Simpsons?

Well, Sylvia can help you with this problem, too. How? With her hands....and her mind.





So apparently pushing your chin around in some sort of chin-cream 20 times can make it grow. Who knew? Sylvia, that's who.

In this next picture, you might think Sylvia is using her amazing mental powers to grow herself a bitchin' chin, but you'd be wrong.



She's actually working on her nose. The "mental" way is actually a gyp, if you ask me.



Convictions. Speaking your mind. Lame.

Her nose used to look look like Jimmy Durante's, but with hard work and perseverance, she was able to push that nose-fat right off her face using the following technique:



Crepey Neck? Arouse those glands.

I am not exactly sure what the term "crepey" means, but I'm guessing it's nothing good. I picture either the fine wrinkles on crepe paper streamers, or those thin french pancakes. If your neck looks like french pancakes, you're pretty much screwed, right?

Not necessarily.

All you need to do is arouse your glands.
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Sadly, you don't do this in quite the way you're probably thinking, but that's because you're all pigs and your collective minds are in the gutter. Instead, arouse your glands this way:



According to Sylvia, nothing awakens the glands like a hearty laugh. With all due respect, I beg to differ. If I learned anything at all from dating in college, I learned that my glands do not respond well to laughter. I'm not saying she's wrong -- your glands may eventually get used to the laughter, but mine never actually came to terms with it.

Also, drink raw eggs. That will help.

And remember, Sylvia wants you to be sloghtly pink. So go ahead -- light some candles, put on some soft music and spend some quality time alone with your neck. It's OK, I'll wait.

When you come back, we'll talk about one last thing, and it's very important, so don't get all carried away with your neck and forget about me.

Back so soon? Your glands don't look aroused to me, but hey, what do I know. Maybe your neck is easy to please.

The last thing we're going to talk about in this issue of Sundays with Sylvia is the bane of crones everywhere -- the dreaded...

Old Woman's Bump.

That bump of fat on the top of your spine. Sylvia had it. Between you and me, I think it probably used to be her nose. Regardless, she got rid of it, and here's how she did it:



To be honest, this one kinda creeped me out a little. Especially when she says "You can feel that back lump moving." Yikes.

Sylvia also instructs you to "all the time keep thinking about the bump."

Riddle me this. If you had some sort of lump doing the jitterbug under your back-skin, what are the odds that you'd be all the time thinking about it? Pretty good, I'd think.

All I'm saying is that if I felt some lump on my back moving of its own free will, I would probably lose my shit and try to dig it out with a barbecue fork.

Her advice is sound, however. She tries to kill it. By smashing it off.

Ten to 20 times a day.

Those little bastards are nothing if not tenacious.

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