Well, Ring In the New Year With a Kiss on My Taint, It's... DEAR APRON!

You're reading this, so I have every reason to believe that you're just as sick, depraved, and dubiously-proportioned as am I.

Boy, am I glad you're here. Because making fun of emotionally vulnerable, anonymous schdorks alone is just as bad as drinking alone. Or shooting up heroin underneath my toenails alone. Or conducting Nazi-era experiements on feral cats in my garage at odd hours of the night whilst wearing radioactive underpants alone.

Um....

Yeah.

Strap on your strap-on for another rock-em, sock-em, waka-waka, gluten-free edition of...

DEAR APRON:

Just how honest should you be with a friend? My friend "Frannie" did not receive a promotion in her department, and I think I know why -- her appearance. The promotion would have required more interaction with clients.

Frannie is bright, hard-working, has Christian ethics, a beautiful, trim figure, a wide smile and dresses well. But -- she wears no makeup, doesn't pluck her huge unibrow and wears sandals that expose her very hairy toes and the hairy tops of her feet.

Many people have commented to me about her hairy feet and face, but I have not had the heart to tell her what they say. She has also been asking me why guys shy away from her.

Do I say nothing, or should I offer helpful advice? -- FRANNIE'S FRIEND IN NORTH CAROLINA

DEAR FRANNIE'S FRIEND:

Wow. "Christian ethics" AND " a beautiful, trim figure"? I've gotta tell you, the hairy toes only adds to the intrigue for this hepcat...

People often write in to advice columns wondering exactly how far they ought to go in Ye Olde Honesty Departmente as far as friends go. Speaking as one who lost his best friend of many years because he was a bit too honest, I say, go for it. What do you have to lose, you know, besides your friendship? If Frannie can't accept the fact that you're just trying to do her a solid by advising that she bikini wax her toes, then that goddamned Christian Wildebeest just doesn't deserve you.

Although I have to say-- I'm a bit suspicious about one thing... you describe Frannie as "bright, hardworking" someone who does not wearing make-up, "doesn't pluck her huge unibrow and wears sandals that expose her very hairy toes and the hairy tops of her feet."

Are you sure she isn't Jewish? She sounds like every girl named "Sarah" that I went to college with.

DEAR APRON:

My husband and I separated more than a year ago, but we have remained friends for the sake of our children. During our marriage, my sister moved in with us. When I moved out, she stayed on to help my husband financially, and also to help with our children.

Yesterday, my husband confirmed that he's now sleeping with my sister. I must see them almost daily and I don't want to make a difficult situation worse. How can I get over the hurt and betrayal I feel toward them -- especially my sister? How can I forgive them? Will time really heal this wound? -- BETRAYED BY MY SISTER

DEAR BETRAYED:

Oh, Jesus Christ-- give me a break. You're actually surprised about this? I knew they were sleeping together midway through the first sentence, before you had even mentioned you had a sister.

DEAR APRON:

My friends and I were recently discussing supermarket etiquette and hope you can provide some insight. When checking out at the grocery store and a customer is standing behind you ready to unload her basket, is it your responsibility to move the divider bar to the end of your order or should it be the person behind you? Which is more proper? -- CONSCIENTIOUS SHOPPER, ERIE, PA.

DEAR CONSCIENTIOUS SHOPPER:

Just when I think there are no meaty, insightful, societally poignant questions left, there's always someone in Northwestern Pennsylvania who pokes through the woodwork like a Hep-C infected termite to prove me wrong.

Hon, I'm glad it's you.

It is, in fact, the responsibility of the nearest poverty-stricken, toothless sharecropper to place the divider bar onto the checkout conveyer. Typically, said sharecropper will be outfitted in a worn pair of overalls with rust on the buckles, and he will have a half-consumed pack of "Red-Man" in the center pocket of said overalls. If he does not provide the divider-bar service with due haste and humility, averting his gaze as he does so, you are protected by law and may break his knee with a swift kick to the side of his left leg.

DEAR APRON:

I have been unable to ask "Mary" out -- or at least see if she's into me -- because we both work at the same place. I am not the type to be shy with my feelings, but with her it's different. When I see her, I forget everything else. It's as if my whole world stops when I see her smile. She's amazing!

I want to ask her out, but I'm unsure how to, considering that I am a woman. She does not know how I feel about her. What should I do? -- HAS IT BAD IN ARIZONA

DEAR HAS IT BAD:

From the tone of this letter, you're not only a lesbian, you're ten. Go do your fucking homework in your marble composition book and don't write to me again until you've bled at least three good times. And email me your mother's phone number. That bitch and I need to talk.