Well, Purp My Nurple and Pray for Milk, It's.... DEAR APRON!

I didn’t do a Dear Apron last week. Did anybody notice? Of course not. Why? Because it’s summer and you’ve checked out mentally. And that’s hot. Or, maybe it’s because your brain-cells have all over overheated, like those belonging to the hopeless schleps who write in to Dear Abby, never knowing they’ll then get face-fucked by none other than…

DEAR APRON:

I know some people are obsessed with hoarding things. Is it possible to have an obsession about throwing things away? My mother seems bent on removing every item from our home. Every time I went away as a kid, boxes of books and toys would disappear from my room. I resorted to hiding things I wanted to keep.

Since I have left for college, 90 percent of my belongings have been thrown out or given to Goodwill. She even gave away two dolls I have had since I was a baby and which were of great sentimental value to me. Mother was well aware of it.

She recently became adamant that I get rid of some dresses and a pair of winter boots to "prepare for the change in seasons." Apron, the boots were less than six months old, and the dress was brand-new! Could she have a serious problem? -- EMILY IN ATLANTA

DEAR EMILY:

No. Your mother does not have a serious problem. Suspected conditions, problems, maladies are not clinically proven until A&E decides to make television shows out of them. Only then is a tendency, behavior or peculiarity officially eligible to be a clinically diagnosable illness or problem. I suspect, though, that A&E has a program in the works called “Purging” in which hyperactive purgers of sentimental objects, their children’s clothes, sofas and whatnot will be put on television and their purging tendencies will be addressed by people with ambiguous titles like “Purging Expert” and “Licensed Compulsive Excavatory Specialist.”

Until such time as this television program goes into production, I would lock all your important shit in a Public Storage unit and pray your crazy fucking mom never finds the key.

Trust me, your Care Bears are not, repeat, NOT safe.

DEAR APRON:

"Susan" and I have been married for many years. After our sons left for college, my wife began experiencing "empty-nest syndrome," so I surprised her with two cats. I'm not wild about cats, but I knew she'd be pleased. Big mistake!

Susan is constantly doting on her "babies" (as she calls them). Her time is spent brushing them, talking to them, playing with them and photographing them. When we do have a little feline-free time, it's spent talking about them. I have grown more and more annoyed with these spoiled cats who have 100 percent of her attention.

I have tried expressing my feelings, but she reminds me that I was the one who "adopted" them in the first place. Any suggestions? -- HUBBY IN PURR-GATORY

DEAR HUSBAND:

Listen, Chief—for the good of everyone occupying space within a 15-mile radius of where I am currently sitting, I am going to choose to ignore the fact that you signed your letter “Hubby in Purr-gatory.” Seriously. I’m just going to….. let it go.

Let it go.

Okay.

Now, those of you who are familiar with Dear Apron are probably thinking to yourself, “He’s going to suggest killing the cats, throwing bricks onto their skulls from a height of at least sixteen feet, and smearing their brains and bodily detritus all over Susan’s car windshield for her to find when she goes to work in the morning, stripping them of their fur and skin and making Susan a hat-and-coat set for her birthday and using their teeth to make jewelry for female prisoner pen-pals."

Now, is that what you really think of me? Come on, yo. That hurts.

I wasn’t going to suggest killing the cats at all. That’s… that’s just… I don’t know—wrong. It seems wrong to kill the cats, I mean—they didn’t do anything wrong. And I’ll just stop you right there before you go on assuming that I’m going to suggest he kills Susan, because wifeycide isn’t the answer either. And you know I’m not all kill kill kill. I mean, I know I have some seriously repressed shit going on, but it’s not as bad as all that.

What I will suggest is locking Susan in the basement half-bathroom filled with three week’s worth of filthy cat litter for two days without food or water. The cats can stay in there with her or not, that’s kind of up to you. Either way, I don’t think she’ll be so keen on those fuckers anymore after that little expedition to Purr-gatory.

DEAR APRON:

I am an 11-year-old girl. My brother, "Jason," and I have always been close friends. Summer, for me, means wearing tank tops and shorts, but Jason doesn't like the idea. He tells me I'm showing too much skin and that boys will stare at me.

I used to think Jason was silly. So far, he has liked only one of my outfits this summer. Now that I think about it, my shorts are pretty small. Is my brother just being protective? Or do you think I should try to wear clothes that don't show a lot of my skin? -- STAYING COOL IN HARRISBURG, PA.

DEAR STAYING COOL:

Wow. 11-year-old girls really write to Dear Abby? Really? That surprises me. Haven't you ever heard of Seventeen Magazine?

(L.M.T.!)

So, I was going to write a completely different answer to this letter until I realized that you were writing from Harrisburg. Your brother is probably attracted to you and doesn’t want to share the sight of you with other boys. Honey, you’re from the middle of Pennsylvania—we weren’t all born yesterday. Think about it.

DEAR APRON:

I am a 27-year-old, heterosexual female in a long-term, happy relationship with a man. However, I often find myself checking out other women's bodies. It doesn't turn me on or anything -- I just look to compare, I think. Am I normal, or do I need professional help? -- STRAIGHT IN PENNSYLVANIA

DEAR STRAIGHT:

That’s hot.

I think the more pertinent question here is, does your brother check you out?