Am I right? Tell me I'm right. And I'll tell you my shoe size.
But seriously, former-First Lady Barbara Bush, I was thinking about doing a right down, re'glar royal Dear Apron column for today, where I bum-pirate letters written to Dear Abby shoot out my own special word-jat of slightly sardonic and scintillatingly saintly advice, but then I thought-- no.
After two years of dispensing often cruel and violent advice to the masses of dunderheaded, wicker-lipped sponge-asses out there, I thought it was time to mix it up a little bit. Just for today.
Just for you.
I was thinking to myself: what is the world missing when it comes to unsolicited, hopelessly-flawed, easy-to-mock, cookie-cutter advice? And then it hit me like a 1990 Olds Cutlass Ciera being piloted by a leathery nun:
Dating advice dispensed by an out-of-touch, suburbanite, surly thirty-year-old man who has been in a committed relationship since February of 2003, and who has been married since October of 2006.
That's right, Cumbums. Hold onto your short-n-curlies, 'cause it's gonna be a wet'n'wild weekend if you follow the glittering, crusty, ne'er-to-be-questioned advice of...