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Monday, October 4, 2010

Well, Bust My Buttons and Button My Bust; It's.... DEAR APRON!

I've been told that "a picture is worth a thousand words." But there are no pictures on this blog. I've also been told to go fuck myself, but I'm worried that, if I try it, I'll fall off the bed and break my neck.

So, um... there's that. And, for better or for worse, there's also....


I was married in Las Vegas six months ago in a quickie wedding so my husband could put me on his health insurance. I used my late grandmother's ring for the ceremony, assuming that "Harry" would buy one for me shortly. It still hasn't happened, and he makes it very clear he doesn't intend to. Harry claims we don't have any money. However, we are buying a house, and he constantly spends money on his hobbies.

I am starting to regret the whole package -- not having a real wedding, no ring, no proposal. I am so resentful I am considering ending our marriage over it. I need to know if there's a way to fix this. -- RINGLESS IN RICHMOND, TEXAS


There is a way to fix this. It is called a "divorce."

I would suggest getting a quickie divorce, Vegas-style. There are plenty of drive-thru divorce lawyers in Nevada that you guys can go to, and you can even sign the divorce papers using your late grandmother's favorite fountain pen. Many of these establishments also serve hot coffee and doughnuts that you may consume while waiting for the ink to dry on the papers-- just make sure that you split all comestibles 50/50 with "Harry", as per the divorce arrangements.

By the way-- I'm curious as to what Harry's "hobbies" are that he's spending so much money on. My main hobbies are blogging and masturbation, and both are free-- though exceedingly challenging when attempted concurrently.


After my wife's funeral, many of our friends returned to the mortuary to collect the flowers they had sent. Some of them were very rude, insisting that because they had sent them, the flowers belonged to them.

This has upset our daughter, who was in charge of sending thank-you notes. Now she doesn't know who sent what because we were too distracted to look at the cards on the flowers. Is this something new, or are those people just rude? -- WIDOWER IN LIVINGSTON, MONT.


YOU'RE rude, motherfucker! Do you know how boring funeral services are? These people sat on their asses on these hard, unforgiving pews and listened to endless hyperbole about your decrepit old sowbag wife, and now what? You expect them to pay good money for beautiful bouquets of flowers and just LEAVE them in the stinking mortuary? Who's going to appreciate them there? The fucking cockroaches that come out at night to feast on the toejam of the dearly departed? Come on, Hoss. Funerals, and flowers, are for the living.

By the way, I'm sorry you were "too distracted" to look at the cards on the flowers. Perhaps you have ADHD. There's medication for that, and I hear it's really good when crushed up and snorted off a Korean prostitute's ass.

DEAR APRON: I live with two of my best friends. We get along great because we respect each other's personal space and business. My problem is my roommate "Michelle" drinks alone in our apartment. She consumes eight to 12 alcoholic beverages in an evening. She does this once a week, usually during the week. The next morning she'll complain that she's "sick" when she has to get up for work, but I know she's hung over.

Our other roommate spends little time at our place and doesn't want to speak to her about this, even though he agrees she has a problem.

How should I approach Michelle about this? I'm afraid if I say anything she'll think I'm accusing her of being an alcoholic. I want to maintain peace in our home, but I'm worried about her. Any suggestions for how I should handle this? -- FEARFUL IN FAIRBORN, OHIO


To me, talking to Michelle about binging on alcohol alone in her room would be like taking your constipated dog outside for a walk twenty times a day during a typhoon and giving it prune-juice enemas. Your dog's constipated? Why fuck up a good thing, n'yah mean?

When I was your age (I'm assuming you're college-aged and, hence, stupid) I would have KILLED for a roommate who would isolate him/herself and drink alone, quietly, out of my sight and out of my way. Imagine what could happen to your ideal living situation should you bring up your concern to Michelle-- she could start drinking in your LIVING ROOM! Then, because you brought up the fact that she's isolating herself, she'll start inviting over braying moron frat-friends and sororosluts to Natty Ice it up all over your apartment. There'll be vomit and pee on your ceiling in next to no time. And guess who's going to clean it up? Michelle will be hung over (sorry-- "sick") and your other roommmate who's never there will be like, "PEACE!"

Look, you're not an addictions counselor. Why try to be one for Halloween?

DEAR APRON: I have just become engaged to "Egon," who is from Norway. He has a great job and is studying to be a masseur. He tells me often that he loves me and would never fall for another woman.

My problem is my sister "Ellen." She's happy about our engagement, but she keeps asking my fiance for lower back and thigh rubs. She claims she gets cramps from being on her feet all day.

Well, I'm on my feet all day and my thighs have never cramped up. What bothers me is Ellen makes embarrassing sounds of pleasure when Egon massages her. I'm upset with her because she constantly asks my fiance for massages, but I also get annoyed with Egon because -- in a weird way -- it feels like he's cheating on me.

He says it's his job and I'm being silly. What I want to tell my sister is, "Sorry, but those intimate rubdowns belong to me now. Find someone else for yours!" Apron, am I being unduly jealous or is what she's doing wrong? -- RUBBED THE WRONG WAY IN FLORIDA


EGON? EGON?!! Seriously? THAT'S the pseudonym that this hunk of burning masseur-to-be conjured up in your mind?

HA! I ain't afraid of no rubdown!

1 comment:

  1. Thank you so much for your lovely comment I don't know if they are worth a thousand words but they are fun.
    You don't need them though. Word.


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