Rick Nelson and Claude Peck dispense unasked-for advice about clothing, etiquette, culture, relationships, grooming and more.

 

RN: I say this with love. You don’t look so good, Mr. 8-Day Flu.

 

CP: After a few days reeling though oldies at the Vicodin Drive-in, I decided maybe it was time to part ways. For one thing, I hope someday to poop again. Because that pain pill is totally constipating.

 

RN: OK, that’s two sentences I hope to never hear again. Again, with love. You were saying?

 

CP: For another, I learned some valuable lessons back in the mid-’90s from former Viking Brett Favre.

 

RN: Actually, he only wore the purple in the 2009-2010 seasons. I’m not sure why I know that, as the only other Viking I can name is the guy who was married to Tony Award winner Phylicia Rashad. Sorry to interrupt.

 

CP: I know that about Favre, but saying that is both technically accurate and highly annoying to my Green Bay relatives. Anyway, you will recall Favre’s run-in with the not-medically-helpful side of Vicodin. The scandal marched him off to inpatient rehab, often just called “somewhere in Minnesota for 28 days.”

 

RN: Ah. Judging from your pallor, I’m guessing you could use 28 days hooked up to an IV. As my mother used to say, it’s no fun being sick.

 

CP: That’s not always true at the Vocodin Drive-in. First, it eased my severe headache in a way that some migraine med with butalbital didn’t at all. Once the pain ebbs, you can sit in any old room and wait for the Turner Movie Classics version of your life to start. Funnies. Short subjects. Big events. Giant spiders.

 

RN: That sounds not unlike your sophomore year in college. Well, minus the Grace-Slick-screaming-“Feed your head” soundtrack.

 

CP: Have you ever been prescribed it?

 

RN: No, but then again, Extra-Strength Excedrin makes me loopy. Please tell me that you’re staying away from heavy machinery.

 

CP: No. Though one night I did get a chance to test-drive one of those dream-choppers from “Oblivion.” My mission must remain secret, but I assure you, it was Danger Level High.

 

RN: Are you sure that your physician — what’s his name, is it Dr. Feelgood? — didn’t prescribe a four-day course of LSD?

 

CP: In sad fact, the only time I ventured out while “under” was on an early Sunday morning, to Seward Co-op. Hunger made me chance it.

 

RN: My sincere hope is that you didn’t run into anyone you know. That’s the worst, being spotted when your appearance could get you cast as a flu-addled “before” in a NyQuil commercial.

 

CP: Of course I did. Our mutual friend Nicole was right there at the front desk, where she witnessed me wrestle two locked-together carts before giving up angrily and stalking into the produce aisle. Double-busted.

 

RN: She told me. Out of love, naturally. Now get back to bed.

 

E-mail: witheringglance@startribune.com

Twitter: @claudepeck and @RickNelsonStrib