Dear Doctor Hate,

My life-partner and I have a one-bedroom apartment where we live and have our hemp clothing business headquartered. How do we make a separate space for the newborn?

-- Kimber & Julie and little Bobby, Nevada

Dear How-The-Hell-Did-You-Get-Past-Child-Welfare?

Try a big damn folding screen like in a disaster area surgical unit. They're usually lightweight and easily movable. NOT that you can't lift something heavy; I'm sure you're both -- intense. I'm just sayin', they're easy to work with.

Little Bobby's side can be some nursery-appropriate fabric (like satellites or knives 'er something) while the fabric on your side of the screen can fit with your uh, hempy decor. Best part is, screens are easy to make. NOT that you two can't afford to buy them! I'm just sayin', ya'll sound creative...You could make a nice decorative wooden screen yourself. Just use doors hinged together. But be sure to use louvered doors; you'll need the air circulation once Little Bobby starts to crap himself.

Lemme guess, hemp diapers? Never mind.

Plywood sections can also be hinged together and either painted, wallpapered or upholstered. And just think: on a solid wooden screen you can hang pictures of your smiling life-partner in-laws.

Another possibility is hanging fabric to separate the space between you and your little experiment…er Little Bobby. You'll need something heavy to deaden his screaming so you should consult with your landlord before you go punching holes in the ceiling for brackets. Either way, it's gonna be crowded, loud and miserable in there before too long, so my best advice is to start lookin' for a new place right away. Good luck, eh? (To the kid I mean.)

-- D.H.

Dear Hate Crime,

I have a certain person in my family who has begun using steroids. It isn't enough that he works out twice a day. I think he's out of mind! What are the effects of steroids?

-- Pumping Iron in Buffalo

Dear P.I.

Small world. You too huh? My uncle, Gary is waitin' for a liver transplant because of steroids! He isn't rich, famous or a sports celeb so, he's probably got about five more months before he dies and I get his 1970 Plymouth. Like your person, Scary Gary (I used to call him that when I was a kid) should have listened to his trainer back in the 80's. But he didn't and now I get the Plymouth.

Anabolic steroids are drugs related to natural male sex hormones. The word anabolic refers to their building up muscle tissue. My whole family got a free education on this subject after it became known that Scary Gary went sterile and his neck started to rot. He was in and out of the hospital for years. Shit, the poor fool still is!

You see, steroids do have valid role in the treatment of growth disorders and anemia, but their use to increase muscle mass is REALLY stupid. It's full of dangers. Aside from liver damage, the risks include heart disease (related in part to their effect on lowering HDL-cholesterol, the "good cholesterol"), a decrease in sperm production, as Scary Gary's wife found out. And my favorite "risk" -- masculinizing effects in women. As in, first girlfriend grows hair on her butt and then dies. Yikes!

Taking steroids also contributes to aggressive behavior. When Scary Gary used to rip stop signs out-of-the-ground, we all thought it was funny, then mom's Thanksgiving turkey went through a plate glass window because my cousin wouldn't pass the salt. Next thing we knew, he was crushing trash cans in the food court at the mall and screaming at parked cars. These days he's a mishapen mute, like Frankenstien.

Your family member is obviously attracted, as Gary was, to the fact that steroids increase muscle mass over short periods of time. Unfortunately their harmful effects far outweigh the benefits. You can help your family member out by alerting your parents, his or her parents and friends and any other of their acquaintances. The relative in question will hate your guts for years, but won't die. Just don't let 'em get you in a head lock or it'll be your funeral they attend!

-- D.H.

Dear Dr. Hate,

A friend and I recently got on an elevator together. It was crowded, and when the doors closed, we found ourselves separated by a bunch of people. My friend had been telling me about something that recently happened to her, and she continued her story in the elevator. As she talked, I started to notice people around us staring, giving her dirty looks and shifting uncomfortably. I didn't say anything, but should I have elbowed her or something? And why does this bother me so much?

--Kathy, Portsmouth, N.H.

Dear Kat,

Isn't it ridiculous how people behave on elevators? They face forward; they don't make eye contact; they always have their hands either in their pockets, folded, or around their purses; they avoid each other like everyone's got the plague; nobody talks to anyone they don't know; and everyone who's talking with someone they do know shuts up when someone they don't know enters. Is that a bunch of crap or what? Who wrote these rules, and where the hell are they posted?

Now Dr. Hate loves exploiting sensitive moments like these. Whether I'm with someone or not, I like to bring up cheerful topics like white slavery, burn wards, patricide, and history's greatest rooftop snipers. I like to think this serves not merely to offend a captive audience, but helps to send people off with something funny to relate to a classmate or coworker. Kind of a: "You'll never guess what this weirdo on the elevator was telling people" sorta thing.

But my narcissism aside, let me tell you why this bothers you. You're a wimp and you feel guilty for it. What you should have done is heed the example of your more liberated friend and not let those stiffs around you intimidate you. How? By responding verbally to your pal, agreeing with her, finishing a sentence -- joining in the conversation. By letting the jerks around you know that this is your friend, and that you both refuse to recognize stupid, unwritten, social restrictions.

Next time, cover your friend's back.

-- D.H.

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