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Friday, March 12, 2010

Well, Fuck My Face and Give Me Frankincense: It's My Masonic Apron's 400th BLOGDAY!

...and it's Dear Apron Friday! How appropriate, my sweet, succulent little bitches! Let us revel in the dunderheaded doodieballs who write in to Dear Abby about their petty, absurd little problems as we celebrate the mirth, merriment and momentary musings of My Masonic Apron with a little sexual problem I like to call:



Last week I suggested to a co-worker, "Zack," that I treat him to a beer after work. Before our pints arrived, he disappeared to a corner of the pub to text on his phone, and 10 minutes later his girlfriend showed up. Her being there obligated me to buy her a drink, and it derailed the work-related discussion I had initially had in mind.

The following Monday, I mentioned to Zack that he should have asked me first if it was OK to bring someone else. He was none too pleased to hear that I thought his behavior was rude. How far off base was I? I'll bow to your opinion. -- WONDERING IN WESTMOUNT, CANADA


Not only will you bow to my opinion, while you are down there on your lousy, stinking, pock-marked knees where you belong, you will offer me oral sex, which I will decline because I am a happily married person, unlike yourself, who is clearly miserable, alone, pathetic, and reeking of Fat Girl Smell.

Do you really think I'm stupid enough to believe that you wanted to have a "work-related" discussion with Zack? Funny-- I haven't been in too many bars and/or pubs in my life, but at those in which I have been in, I haven't heard too many "work-related" discussions going on-- unless these people's "work" consists of getting divorced, talking about fantasy baseball, and trying to pick up the bartender.

Zack wisely texted his girlfriend for two reasons: 1.) so she could act as a buffer between him and your totally undisguised, offensive advances and 2.) so she could witness his complete and total lack of culpability in your desperate attempt to convince him to sex her up in the men's washroom. What's even funnier/sadder about this whole situation is that you had the nerve to confront him about this the following Monday. You should be grateful he didn't slice your hands off with the paper-cutter. That's what they'd do to you in Iran.


My 12-year-old daughter, "Jenna," is in the closet -- literally. About a week ago, she moved into her closet. She put her dresser in there, threw some blankets on the floor and that's where she hangs out now. When asked why she doesn't hang out in her room, she says, "I just like it in the closet."

Some of her girlfriends claim to be bisexual or gay. Is she telling me that she's "in the closet" or is she messing with my mind? Some of her friends are into cutting, and Jenna seems to be curious about it. I don't know what to make of any of this. Any advice? -- CONCERNED IN HOUSTON


So, about this closet-- how big is it? I mean, do you live in one of those Victorian-era houses where everybody except the really super rich only had, like two outfits and the closets aren't big enough for Stan Laurel to walk in, turn around and fart twice-- or, are we talking a more modern home, maybe built in the 1960s when people were feelin' fine and needed big closets to accomodate all of their skinny ties, shimmery gold jumpsuits and bellbottoms? Because, if it's the latter, and I'm guessing it is because she's managed to fit half her goddamn furniture in there, I wouldn't worry about it.

Using a closet for a living space is totally normal. Now, if she starts using it as a bathroom as well, you might have to write back to me. Unless she's got a litter box. If she's using a litter box, and she's using Tidy Scoop or something like that where the odor is minimal, then that's probably okay, too. She's a kid. Kids are fucked up. Remember when you were her age and you used puff-paint on everything and stuffed your bra with old fish heads?

Also, from your remarks about homosexuality and bisexuality and cutting, it seems to me that you are trying to get advice about three different things with one lousy little letter-- what kind of fucking freeloader mooch are you? It also seems to me that you are watching too much "Dateline: NBC." Stop it.


I have an 11-year-old son who has started having issues with lying -- nothing important, just little things like did he do his chores or brush his teeth.
I also have an alcoholic husband who says and does things he doesn't remember later. When I get conflicting stories from the two of them, I don't know whom to believe.

Don't suggest I leave my husband. It's not financially feasible right now, though it is something I am looking into. -- WHOM DO I BELIEVE IN CALIFORNIA


Ah, "whom." If this letter came from anywhere but California, New York, or Washington State, it would have been "Who." Grammar like that makes some people's nipples just positively stand on end, and, from all of them, I thank you for that.

Does your husband brush his teeth? Or does he do it and just not remember? Again, is your problem with your son or with your husband? Don't try to work me over like I'm your bitch and try to get multiple pieces of advice out of me. Give $10 to a pot-bellied whore and she'll jerk you off, but don't expect her to clean it off the ceiling, too. You're clearly not watching enough "Dateline: NBC."

Also, keep your husband. Ditch the son. That kid's on a one-way path to juvie anyway.


DEAR APRON: I'm worried about my 14-year-old granddaughter. She's a good soccer player and frequently "heads" the soccer ball. I think this could be harmful to her brain.

I have spoken to two coaches about it; they say I shouldn't worry. But I saw on the Internet that chronic traumatic brain injury has occurred in soccer and football players. What do you think? Should I pursue this concern? -- GRANDMA AND NURSE IN HOUSTON


There's nothing wrong with your granddaughter giving that soccer ball a little head. When she starts giving the coach head, then you can worry.


  1. Congrats, Mr. Apron!

    PS - Massachusetts is also a fan of proper grammar. And other things proper.

  2. Congrats on your 400th post. That's quite a feat!

  3. I've never encountered this "Dear Apron" upcoming epidemic, but I now understand why you have 23 times (calculated on my calculator watch) as many followers as I do. Well done, sir.

  4. Ah, Ninja-- you may covet my followers, but I covet your watch. You rock that CASIO.

  5. 400 posts? You should celebrate in style! With alcohol and lots of cake.

    Seriously. Throw a party and invite me damn it! I need free booze.

  6. Now give three cheers,
    I'll lead the way
    Hurrah! Hurrah!


Got something to say? Rock on with your badass apron!