It’s been quite sometime since I’ve penned a response to a Dear Abby. I’ve done it quite a bit in the past, but I’ve been hella busy and, alas, good old Abs has been neglected. But, not today, my good sir (or madam)!
Today (well, technically, last week), Abby is confronted with a most vexing problem. A woman, whose mother is 70, has been invited to…dear lord…a lingerie shower for mumsy. I call her mumsy because I assume she is either from the northeast, Great Britain or some weird place where everyone calls their moms mumsy. I would do that, but my mom would just laugh and laugh and I would have to tell her to stop and there would be begging and ridicule.
Anyway, mumsy is 70 and little honey boo boo child is aghast at the notion of showering her mother in ladies under garments. Let’s listen in…
DEAR ABBY: My 70-something-year-old mother is being remarried soon. I’m happy she has found love again after my father’s passing. Several of her friends are throwing her a lingerie shower to celebrate. Abby, I am uncomfortable attending this party.
I asked that she exclude me from the list, but yesterday I received an invitation. Hooray! She has a new life which involves new love. I just don’t want to think of my mother in that role. Am I wrong to not want to attend? — THEY GROW UP SO FAST
GASP! The horror. Your mother has…OMG…SEX!
Look, I know we all try to imagine our parents as celibates and our births as immaculate conceptions, but the truth is, older folks still do the nast-ay. And you should damn well hope that they do because you, my dear, will be 70 one day (God willing) and I’d like to believe you want all your lady business to still get its freak on.
Of course, my mother is a saint. I assume that sex for her is like that episode of Star Trek: Voyager where the hot female Q and the regular old Q procreated by touching fingers. My mom isn’t an omnipotent being — that I know of — but I still hold out hope that her only sex is the finger kind. Wait, that’s not what I meant.
You know what, nevermind. She’s right. Case closed.
There’s nothing quite as
hot interesting as a good Dear Abby letter. Call me old fashioned. Call me silly. Call me Dr. Awesome (trademark pending). Whatever the case may be, I dig Abs and her homespun wisdom. It’s been a while since I had my own installment, so I thought I’d answer a couple of her letters myself. How hard could it be?
DEAR ABBY: I am 35 years old and the mother of two children. The oldest is 4 and my little one just turned 1. My mother-in-law had gastric bypass surgery two years ago. She lost a lot of weight and looks great, having gone from a size 16 to a size 4.
My problem is the comments she makes about my weight in the presence of others. For example, “Do you see that ‘Cate’ is so big-boned and I am so petite?” It hurts, and I don’t know what to do about it. What can I say to her the next time she says something like that? — “CATE” IN OKLAHOMA CITY
Dear “CATE” IN OKC –
By those quotation marks, I assume your name is not “Cate” but rather something completely different like “Catherine” or “Catonga,” so I’ll leave you to your anonymity because, let’s be totally honest here, Catonga is a horrible name. What is wrong with your parents, Catonga?
So, your mother-in-law lost a bunch of weight and now she’s criticizing you for being “big boned.” I’m sure Abby would suggest you be polite and mention how hurtful this is to your mother-in-law. I would take a different approach. Perhaps, the next time she brings it up, you could say something like, “That’s so true. I mean, remember when you were so goddamn fat, we were praying for the day when you’d get lipo or hop on the Jenny Craig bandwagon? Hell, I remember my husband saying that he wished you would start Rockin’ to the Oldies, but he figured you should do what you want since you are so old and close to death.”
If that doesn’t work, Catonga, just thank her for the fact that she gave birth to your husband who, despite her diminutive stature, carries a “big bone” of his own. That should break the tension.
P.S. You really should think about changing that name, Catonga. Maybe that’s why you are fat because of your embarrassment over your name. Poor Catonga.
DEAR ABBY: I am in my mid-30s, blond, blue-eyed, tall and slender. I am health-conscious and physically active. I have had a seven-year marriage and a relationship that lasted for four — but for the last five years I have been unattached. It took me a while to get used to being alone, but I have realized something that everyone needs to know: Being single can be very satisfying.
I clean my house; it stays clean. I have no extra dishes or laundry to do. There’s no toothpaste left in the sink. The toilet seat stays down. I can relax in front of the fireplace because no one is trying to get my attention.
My checkbook is always balanced, with no surprises. I can go to bed at night and sleep without having to spend half the night explaining why I’m not “in the mood.” I wake up refreshed in the morning without having to share someone else’s challenges.
I’m free to come and go as I please without the burden of anyone else’s expectations. And, if I’m feeling social, I can get together with a male or female friend and go out and have a good time.
Please reassure your single readers that it’s OK to be single, and not to allow their well-meaning friends, family or society to try to convince them they “need” to be in a relationship. If they’re happily single, as am I, they can remain that way and life will be just fine if they let it be. For me, it’s the only way to be. — HAPPILY SINGLE IN SEATTLE
Dear HAPPILY SINGLE IN SEATTLE,
I’d just like to say on behalf of all men, THANK YOU! You being single is the best thing that could happen to us and we’re glad you agree. Please remain that way so that no unsuspecting man becomes ensnared by someone as clearly annoying and conceited as yourself. You’ve saved us all a great deal of pain.
Now, you’ll have to excuse me as I need to dump clothes on the floor, empty an entire tube of Crest into the sink, pee on the toilet seat and bug the crap out of my girlfriend who is attempting to ignore me in front of a roaring fire place. It’s a challenge, I know, but it’s the life of most dudes like me.
Finally, perhaps one of the great letters of all time:
DEAR ABBY: I think my husband may be a cross-dresser. Last night while “Roland” and I were cuddling in bed, I felt his legs and they were smoother than mine. I asked him why he keeps shaving his legs and stomach, and then it dawned on me. Roland has sent me e-mails hinting about dressing up.
One year, he purchased a pair of high heels, saying he wanted to dress up like a woman. I examined them the other day and there is evidence that they have been worn more than once. My lingerie drawer is sometimes a mess, and sometimes my clothes are a bit out of place. I believe my husband dresses up while I’m out of town on business trips.
I’d kind of like to see him dressed up, but I’m afraid he might look sexier than me. Lately Roland has been asking me if he can join me when I go shopping for clothes. He does chores around the house (vacuuming, ironing, dishes), and if he enjoys cross-dressing, I say he can wear any outfit he wants. How can I tell him I know what he’s doing? — WISE TO HIM IN FORT WORTH
Dear WISE TO HIM IN FORT WORTH,
I would just like to point out a few things I was wondering while reading your missive.
1. You asked him why he “keeps” shaving his legs and stomach (ew!). So, he’s been doing this for some time and it just dawned on you something might be amiss? Have you considered taking a class on paying attention? Just a thought. I’m sure Dallas has many lovely community colleges that offer such educational opportunities for someone such as yourself.
2. He TOLD YOU “one year” that he bought high heels and wanted to dress up as a woman. Um, are you perhaps mildly retarded? There is probably a test for such things. You might want to consult a physician.
3. Your lingerie drawer is a mess and your clothes are out of place. Ok, dear, now I’m worried. I’m thinking brain aneurysm. Go to an emergency room immediately!
4. You are concerned he would look sexier than you in YOUR clothes. While you are on your way to the hospital, you might want to contact a therapist about your low self esteem issues. I think it’s just grand you accept your husband as he is, but I just don’t know what to say about your belief in his cross dressing hotness.
I’m just concerned here, Debbie. I call you Debbie because of that porno about Dallas and I don’t really think they have one about Ft. Worth. Maybe Fanny Fucks Ft. Worth, which has a nice ring to it, but I can’t confirm that is a real film. Since you are so into this cross dressing thing, once a team of physicians has cleared you for active duty, maybe you should consider making a cross dressing porno about Ft. Worth. You could call it Freaky in Cow Town USA or maybe something simple like Ft. Worth Cockyards, you know, instead of stockyards. It’s a play on words, Debbie. Oh, right, you have a brain injury.
Ok, best of luck.
Rainbows and unicorns,
She had dumps like a truck truck truck
Thighs like what what what
All night long
Let me see that thong
For those who don’t know me or haven’t read my blog until recently, you probably don’t know of my love of Dear Abby. She is brilliant for so many reasons, but mainly because she deals with some of the most insane questions with dignity and just a hint of smart assery.
Today (speaking of assery), she revealed the results to the “survey” she did regarding thongs (chicks dig them – hooray!), but, more importantly cracked the case (get it!) on thongs and the men who love them.
First, there’s Dino (is it DEE-noh or DIE-noh like the thongasaurus rex?) from San Francisco who calls Abby “girl” and wears thongs under his “tight white jeans.” I think he likes the International Male catalog for the thongs AND the pretty pictures.
Then there’s STRUNG UP THE MIDDLE in Vegas (naturally) who likes to wear them under clothing and as “swimwear by my pool in the summer” which he says to close his letter “makes him…” and leaves us hanging just like the front of his banana hammock. My first thoughts were: Embarrassing, terrifying and/or that guy that makes people scream “DEAR GOD, MY EYES!!!”
Then we have CONFUSED from Virginia (I bet he’s confused if he’s in a thong in Virginia) who decided to try an experiment and see what all the fuss was about and now finds women’s undergarments sexy…TO WEAR.
This is like the guy I knew whose girlfriend left him for another woman after he insisted they have a three-way with her. THE MORAL: If you don’t want the answer, don’t ask the question.
Finally, my favorite.
Iâ€™m voting thongs down. Iâ€™m 62 and grew up in the â€™50s and â€™60s with three good-looking sisters who always wore pretty ladiesâ€™ nylon briefs.
All the girls wore them â€” Marilyn Monroe, Bettie Page, etc.
In the â€™70s and â€™80s girls adopted those ugly bikini panties, and now theyâ€™re wearing thongs? Abby, please urge them to adopt those pretty panties of the â€™50s and â€™60s again.
JACK in Brockton, Mass.
Since Abby didn’t respond directly to most of these letters, I’d like to take a crack (get it!) at this one.
It is certainly understandable that an older gentlemen such as yourself would be put off by modern women’s undergarments. It is also easy to understand that you like a certain style since they were considered attractive at the time you were growing up.
But, your first paragraph makes me wonder something, Jack. How can I put this? Hmmm…did you ever see Flowers in the Attic? If not, rent it because it’s like so awesome and stuff.
There’s this scene where a young, naked Kristy Swanson (she got naked when she was older to, for reference) is in the bathtub and she and her brother are locked in an attic, slowly being poisoned by their grandmother. Because they don’t know any better, they learn about love the old fashioned way – with each other – kinda like the royals in England. It’s just like Blue Lagoon, but without the menstrual scene…or the ocean…but with the incest.
Anyway, I’m not concerned that you noticed your sisters were attractive but rather interested in this story you started telling about three hot sisters in panties. I’m also worried about your health, Jack. Did you start writing a letter to the Penthouse Forum and then decided half way to write to Abby instead? I think you might be senile…or inbred…or perverted…or all three. I suggest you seek medical advice.
finish that hot story about you and your three sisters in nylon panties back in the 50’s tell me more about your feelings with regard to your sisters. I’m totally turned on by your incest orgy doing research on sexual perversions of decades gone by and you’re just the kinky weirdo subject I’ve been looking for to complete my brother-sister porn study.
Stop looking at me like that. You know you thought the same thing, perv.