Free to Fry Your Skin Like a Lobster

Ladies and gentlemen of the class of 1999:

Don’t wear sunscreen.

If I could offer you only one tip for the summer, baby oil and iodine would be it. While the long-term health benefits of sunscreen have been proved, what scientists fail to acknowledge is that wearing sunscreen makes it almost impossible to get a really fabulous tan.

Having cleared that up, here’s some more advice.

Enjoy the power and beauty of your youth. Oh, never mind. You will not understand that, in terms of looks, you have peaked and that gravity will soon be calling the shots.

You are probably as fat as you imagine. Fortunately, you live in the most obese nation in history. Hang around with people who are fatter than you. It’s easier than dieting.

Don’t worry about the future. Or worry, but know that worrying is as effective as trying to pin down the cable company as to the exact time the repairman will arrive.

Do one thing every day that scares your parents.

Yodel.

Don’t be reckless with other people’s cell-phone numbers. Don’t put up with people who are reckless with yours.

Run with scissors.

Don’t waste your time on jealousy. Sometimes you’re ahead, sometimes you’re behind. The race is long, and in the end, it’s only with yourself. And if you can’t beat yourself, who can you beat?

Always remember that you are a unique individual, just like everybody else.

Ignore all credit card offers. And if you succeed in doing this, tell me how.

Keep your old love letters. You never know when someone may become famous.

Suck up.

Don’t feel guilty if you don’t know what you want to do with your life.

Pamper your colon. Be kind to your thumbs. You’ll miss channel surfing when they’re gone.

Read the directions, but only if all else fails.

Get to know your parents. You never know when they will be gone for good--and there is the matter of the will.

Have fries with that.

Live in New York City once, but leave before it makes you hard. Live in Boston once, but leave before it makes you lose your Rs.

Don’t mess too much with your hair, or by the time you’re 40, they will be grafting replacement plugs from your underarms.

Be careful with whose advice you buy, but be patient with those who supply it. Advice is a form of nostalgia. Dispensing it is a way of fishing the past from the disposal, wiping it off, painting over the ugly parts and recycling it for more than it’s worth. (I have no idea what the hell this means.)

But trust me on the baby oil and iodine.