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Wednesday, July 1, 2009

So Many Assholes, So Little Time: It's DEAR APRON Time!

Oh, dear... my wife made the mistake of leaving her Dear Abby website up on the computer this morning.

And a little blogger-boo just can't resist, can he?


My boyfriend, "Beau," and I moved in together and already we have trust issues. He doesn't trust me around his computer. He said he has things on it that are part of his past, and it's none of my business.

One of the things he doesn't want me to see is "The List." He keeps a list of all the girls he has slept with -- including one-night stands. I have asked Beau how many there have been, but he doesn't want to tell me "because it will hurt me." He has revealed that it's a number between 10 and 50.

I have asked him to delete the list, but he said that if he gets a weird disease in the future, he can always refer back to it. I have nightmares about this.

Should I drop the matter? -- UNLISTED NUMBER IN TEXAS


Absolutely you should drop the matter. Jesus Christ-- what are you: a lawyer? That Beau of yours is a catch, young missy, and all you're trying to do is screw everything up with your ceaseless suspicion. God! Where the fuck do you get off anyway?

So, Beau's been around. We'll, obviously! I mean, look at him! Himbo McManmeat, right? I mean, you feel for him like a toilet filled with craprods, didn't you? Well, what did you think-- that he went to college in a monastary? Hardly, peachiepie. That Beau of yours was spurting and spraying inside the vaggies of some of Collegetown's finest coeds. 10-50 of them, to be exact, and don't be surprised if that number's even higher. I mean, someone of Beau's scintillating proportions was probably banging some serious beaver back in middle school. I mean, you just can't keep a good man down.

I understand why you want him to delete the list, dearie. You'd much rather pretend that nothing ever happened to Beau before you gave him his first totally inept and inadequate humjob behind the 7-Eleven dumpster. But, sweetiecrotch, everyone has a past, and while not everyone is as meticulous a record-keeper as Beau and the Nazis, everyone has a history, especially of fornication. Except fat, greasy, Hot-Pocket-eating losers who you wouldn't deign to sleep with anyway.

So, until you start whoring yourself out to folks at Trekkie conventions, you're just going to have to accept the fact that Beau already has several "weird diseases" courtesy of the stars of several "Girls Gone Wild" videos. And you do, too.


My older sister, "Carole," has been dealing with breast cancer for almost a year. Although my family and I live three hours away and are struggling with problems of our own, we have always been supportive of her.

Last week, Carole called to tell me she'll be going to Australia at the end of the year -- a "reward" from her husband for everything she has been through. I was happy for her until she informed me that I would be taking care of her kids for two weeks while she's on vacation.

I joked, "It doesn't sound like you're giving me any choice in this." She replied: "No, I'm not. I went through cancer. I deserve this trip."

I reminded Carole that when I watched her kids just two months ago, things didn't go well. They are completely different from my children, and they don't like each other. Her 5-year-old daughter cried all night, every night while she was here. Her son destroys everything he comes into contact with -- we still have a hole in the bedroom wall -- and has a vocabulary I don't want my kids exposed to.

Do I have a right to just say "no" and offer my best wishes in finding a sitter? I feel guilty, but I don't feel she's entitled to demand this from me. Am I being a bad sister?



Well, shit! I hope I don't ever get cancer and wake up and you're my sister! What a cold, unfeeling, icequeen biatch you are! Damn, yo!

No, seriously, you're a terrible sister. You're all high-and-mighty now because your sister Carole is in remission, but just wait until they find polyps on her liver and tumors in her lymph nodes in a year or two. You're not going to be so fucking smug then, you little twat.

Should she have asked you in advance about this? Sure, but she was probably a little busy, you know, vomiting in every toilet within a 50 mile radius, picking up her hair all around the house with a Swiffer mop and writing out her will. See, dear, people with cancer are kind of busy with all that stuff.

I realize you're just jealous that she's not taking you to Australia, but, hey, maybe you'll get cancer and go into remission and then you can do it right back to Carole.

If she's still alive, that is.


Does anyone know what the protocol is for providing food for house sitters? Should they bring their own, or should it be provided for them?



How about "Uncertain in Albany, Ore?" I mean, we already have a word for people who are "not certain," so, why don't you use it? Oh, and, while we're on the subject of mercilessly berating you, isn't the proper abbreviation for Oregon just "Or?" Jesus, you need to go back to school, buddy.

Now, in answer to your question about leaving food for housesitters, there is no real "protocol" as you call it, because this isn't the armed/uniformed services. We civilians don't have prescribed "protocol" for our everyday operations and behavior. We're good like that.

However, it does kind of depend on how hot the housesitter is. I mean, seriously, Chet, if you have some college chick with a rockin' little body who likes to parade around your house in soffe shorts and tank-tops taking care of the old homestead while you're off in Australia celebrating your lack of cancer, you're going to be a little more generous with the food, aren't you? Of course, you're also going to set up lots of hidden cameras, too.

Don't forget to use lithium batteries in those jauns, too, n'yah mean?

1 comment:

  1. the fuck is wrong w/ people that they can't use words like "uncertain" or fucking figure out tenses? it's most fun, asshole, not funnest!!!!!


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