How One Fucks Up A Perfect Mix Tape  03.25.02

Mr. P,

I read Jack Tripper's tutorial on making perfect mix tapes not 6 months ago. At the time I was not well versed in the art of mix-taping. I decided to take the advice indicated toward the end of the tutorial and I tried a mix tape on someone who was not really special to me. To make the mix tape, I called in sick with work, saying I have the cancer bug. I then proceeded for the next two weeks to construct the best mix tape I could, using Mr.
Tripper's advice and my own raw emotions. I went through thirty-six drafts of the tape before I had completed it.

When finished, I made a case out of old clippings from Soldier of Fortune which had been discarded in my refuse bin. I then returned to work the following Monday and passed the tiny mix tape along to a girl I work with.
Her name is Melanie. She is kind of chubby and speaks with a lisp in the back of her mouth. She only listens to Amy Grant and the soundtrack to The Lion King. Her favorite movies are Pearl Harbor and A Beautiful Mind. She once told me that she can't watch black and white movies, because. With such taste and logic, you can understand why I had no emotional investment in her. On the other hand, at the time, I also was sort of dating a girl named
Shae from my pottery class who is just the coolest person in the world. The mix tape I constructed for Melanie was in preparation for a tiny mix tape for Shae. I felt confident everything would work out, as I was following Tripper's article, word by word, but there were some things Mr. T obviously neglected to consider.

Three days after my return to work at the Java Barn and the tape hand-off to Melanie, my life turned upside down and it all came crashing down on me. I must have been the God of mixtapes that first time because Melanie fell
in love with me practically instantly. I tried to make subsequent tapes to express my disgust of her, and to profess my love for Shae, but they all sucked and my messages were lost in the tiny mix tapes. After one month of trying to hold onto my relationship with Shae and dump the freakbitch, I decided to call in sick again. This time with the leper bug. I spent the next four weeks, sleepless, constructing the best two tapes I could: one to profess love, the other, hate. I constructed elaborate cases for both from old issues of Glamour and Cosmopolitan which I was no longer reading. I triumphantly returned to class and work on the next Wednesday. Due to my lack of sleep, and my headstrong confidence in my perfect creations, I mistakenly gave the wrong tape to each girl. Melanie received the love mix and Shae received the hate.

It turns out I successfully created the perfect love and hate mixes ever to be create. I still can pride my self in that, but Shae, will not speak to me. Her final project in the pottery class was a vase which depicted me as a manifestation of the author of all lies, Satan, himself. As for Melanie, our relationship has escalated rapidly, out of my control. There is nothing I could do. I was powerless to the passion instilled by my very own creation. Last week, Melanie and I got back from our honeymoon. I am in hell. Pure hell. I know no happiness. Mr. P what can I do? Help me, please.

Sincerely,
-Tiny Mix Tapes Gone to Hell
Max

Maxi-pad,

First of all, you are a bumpkin. You did the right thing by finding that temporary friend, Melanie, to use the mix tape on-- good job-- but you sure fucked it up when you let that "freakbitch" take advantage of the situation. When I said "find a temporary friend," I really meant, find a temporary friend that you can use, abuse, and throwaway like a no-good piece of trash. And that was your first step Maximus. You had to pretend-- wait, not pretend... you had to realize that Melanie was insignificant; a bagatelle; a tool just waiting to be used. Sure, you couldn't help that the battle-ax fell in love with you, what with your mix tape-- not to mention your good looks and charming personality, but, ultimately, it's all your fault.

Your biggest mistake was, obviously, when you gave the wrong tape to the wrong female. How could you be so dumb? Seriously? In all my years of professional mix taping, I've never heard of anyone failing so bad at one simple thing. Sure, you were lacking sleep and were basking in your egotistical madness, but there's really no excuse for screwing that up. You must be the kind of person only a mother could love; the kind of person who doesn't take a right turn at red lights; the kind of person who double dips; the kind of person who denies releasing gas in a small room; the kind of person who chews with his mouth open; the kind of person who thinks the White Stripes are the next biggest thing. Right?

The point is... there is NO way Shae will EVER recover from a hate-induced mix tape. You done fucked up, boy. What you did is analogous to spitting in her face, while she confesses her love for everything you've ever done. It's akin to telling her to "fuck off," if she had asked you to marry her. It's like creaming in her face while she's crying about her sick grandmother. How could you do such a thing, Max? What, are you some sort of stupid loser?

Anyway, hope my advice helps! Let me know if you have any other problems. If this advice doesn't help, feel free to e-mail me again; I'm more than willing to give up my time to help my favorite mix-tapers.

- jack tripper