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"Disclaimer: This blog is not responsible for those of you who start to laugh and piss your pants a little. Although this blogger understands the role he has played (in that, if you had not been laughing you may not have pissed yourself), he assumes no liability for damages caused and will not pay your dry cleaning bill.

These views represent the thoughts and opinions of a blogger clearly superior to yourself in every way. If you're in any way offended by any of the content on this blog, it is clearly not the blog for you. Kindly exit the page by clicking on the small 'x' you see at the top right of the screen, and go fuck yourself."

Friday, April 2, 2010

Well, Crap in My Mouth and Call It Crab Rangoon: It's... DEAR APRON!

Folks, it's my Dad's birthday today. And I thought to myself as I sat down to blog this morning as I usually do with my coffee on the desk and my pants around my ankles, "Self, shouldn't you pen an eloquent tribute to your dear ol' dad today-- to demonstrate his greatness and his quirks to the blogosphere, to show him that you love and respect him, and maybe promote his company to boost his flagging sales?"

And, you know, I thought about that. And the more I thought about it I thought, "Self, fuck you. I'm gonna rock out with Dear Apron as usual because, really, it's more than just a mockery of the brickballed stickfucks who write in to Dear Abby to complain about their miserable existences and their petty problems, it's a tribute to my father in that his favorite thing to do in this life is: make fun of "stupid Americans."

And, really, what better way is there to achieve that lofty aim than to write, and to read... DEAR APRON?!

So, Happy Birthday, Daddy. This one's for you.


I have been married to "Roy" for 27 years. For the past 14, he has been a stay-at-home dad. He took on the primary job of raising our two kids, now ages 13 and 16, while my career soared. The problem is, we never agreed to this arrangement.

Roy left his job at a critical time out of anger and missed out on some major retraining. He kept saying he'd start his own business or get work, but he never did. He also never made up for the loss in skills. Instead, he stayed home, moped about, and now at 56 would have serious difficulty finding a job in his field if he wanted to. (I don't think he really wants to anymore.)

Roy is not happy or fulfilled being at home and does nothing to get going on anything else. I'm so frustrated with him I can no longer stand it. I'm ashamed that I let this happen. For the last few years I have told him repeatedly he has to get busy with a career, go back to school, something -- anything -- or else. But each deadline I set passes with no change. Should I leave him? -- MISERABLE IN MINNESOTA


Of course you're miserable-- you live in Minnesota. What did you expect?

Now, look, sweets: I'm very sorry that you got such a raped-raw deal in life-- a husband who single-handedly raised your two shithead kids and managed to not burn the house down while making their lunches or murder both of them during Geometry homework sessions while you got to make mega-bucks at some conglorporation or the Mayo Clinic or whatever.

I mean, let's look at it this way: are either of your kids serial killers or in covert weapons training with the Taliban? Probably not. And, if they're not, then I think Roy did a pretty bang-up job and deserves a hug and probably some fiddling with his private parts if you can squeeze that in to your hefty, big girl executive lifestyle.

If you had raised these two kids, Christ only knows what could have happened. You'd probably have raised them to become hopeless slackasses who would go on to prematurely quit their jobs and sit around moping all day while their spouses' careers soared.


When we were younger, my sister "Kara" and I were sexually abused by our pastor. Kara is now in counseling because of this, and she's insisting I do the same.

I told her I have no need for or desire to get therapy, and now she's angry with me. What my sister doesn't know is that I submitted to our pastor willingly. When I became pregnant by him at 16, I lied to my family and told them the child was a result of a one-night stand.

I am no longer involved with this man, although we parted on good terms and he continues to support our child. Should I tell my sister the truth so she'll understand why I am reluctant to seek counseling? -- CONFLICTED IN MASSACHUSETTS


Wait a minute-- you were sexually abused by your pastor and you're a female?

Listen, if you're going to make up bullshit stories like this, why don't you just hop on a plane to L.A. and become a screenwriter. Please. This is for serious people with actual problems.



My son, "Peter," is in college working on a postgraduate degree. He arranged a date with a young woman while they were home over the holidays. After accepting the first date and breaking it, she agreed to a second one. As Peter was driving to pick her up, he called to double-check her address only to be told she was still at a previous engagement. Naturally, Peter expected she'd call back when she was free -- but she didn't. There was no explanation, no call or text or any further communication.

What is happening to young people today? Do texting and online social networking encourage them to avoid simple human kindness and consideration of others? I think these new devices are giving kids an easy way to get out of difficult and uncomfortable situations. They don't have to hear the hurt of rejection or the sting of their rudeness through a text or a chat page.

Meanwhile, my thoughtful, sensitive son sat home thinking he wasn't important enough for an explanation! At 26 he's beginning to think he should just focus on finishing school and forget the dating scene. And if this is the caliber of today's young women, maybe he should! -- MOTHER OF A GOOD SON


"What is happening to young people today?"

That is an excellent question, dearie, and while I suspect that it was asked rhetorically, it just so happens that I actually know the answer to that question, so I will answer it as if it were an actual interrogative statement as opposed to a self-serving statement posed in the form of a supposedly unanswerable question.

What is happening to young people today is a neurological condition that has resulted in overconsumption of Lunchables products. The amount of sodium contained in one Lunchables meal is equivalent to drinking two hundred and sixty-seven gallons of saltwater. Unbeknownst to the FDA, this excessive sodium intake by American youth has rapidly eroded valuable synapses in the brain that had heretofore been responsible for courtesy, respect, and eye-contact. Likewise, the call-people-back-promptly cortex of the brain, located directly below and to the left of the respect-the-inherent-worth-and-dignity-of-every-human-being lobe, has suffered greatly in over 88% of males and females in the 22-28 age bracket.

It's truly disappointing that your wonderful, charming, brilliant, handsome son, Peter, had to sit at home pondering his very existence because this shallow, vapid, probably very attractive, skinny, raven-haired, taut-breasted little flirt did not have the common decency to return his phone call but, now you know the real reason behind her supposed callousness.

And, besides, now you can have Peter all to yourself. Nasty.


I'm 16 and have grown up religious my whole life. I get good grades and stay out of trouble. A lot of my friends have done crazy things like drinking and partying, but I haven't. Because of this, I have the reputation of being a "goody-two-shoes."

I'm not saying it's a bad thing being a good girl, but I don't want to be a goody-two-shoes. Part of me wants to try some of the stuff my friends have been doing, but I don't want to lose my parents' trust. Please help! -- RESTLESS IN OREGON


Have you tried getting knocked up by your priest?


My husband and I had fun coming up with cars that fit with certain professions (Jan. 23). It made a long car ride seem short. Here's what we came up with: The Greek epic poet Homer would have a Honda Odyssey, and a firefighter a Chevy Blazer. An entomologist would crawl through traffic in his Mitsubishi Spyder. A meteorologist would drive a Honda Element, an astronomer would have a Mitsubishi Eclipse and an optician a Ford Focus. Picasso would paint the town in his Nissan Cube, an ornithologist would use a Ford Falcon and his lawyer would drive a Honda Civic. -- MEGAN T., RIDING THE HIGHWAYS IN BELVIDERE, N.J.


You know, Megs, I don't often suggest murder-suicide in my replies to letter-writers, but, in your case, it is something that you and your husband may wish to consider.

Let me know how it works out.

1 comment:

  1. From now on, whenever people come to me with their inane little quibbles, I'm just going to ask them: "Have you tried getting knocked up by your priest? "


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