Amber M. from Peekskill, NY writes, “Yo Answerman. I ain’t afraid to admit it, I like to get my drink on, I like to shake my ass and I like to party, but my bestie doesn’t always get invited to the parties I gets invited to. Now she be upset because I go without her, is it okay if I goes anyways?”
Dear Amber, I can tell you are a classy woman who probably enjoys the finer things in life, like Kirkland brand vodka and bleaching your anus. While I approve of you getting your “drink on”, minus your bestie, always keep in mind the drunken, slurred words of Lindsey Lohan, “A shot of tequila will keep you warm for a few minutes, but a friend will keep you…oh my God, I think I just shit myself.”
Katrina S. from Alberta, Canada writes, “Dear Poppy, my live-in boyfriend barely works and I’ve been covering all the bills, but when I tell him he needs to chip in, he gets angry. Our relationship is already on the rocks, but this might end it. What should I do?”
Dear Katrina, let me cut to the chase, your boyfriend is using you like an ATM machine he can have sex with (by the way, if an ATM machine would give us money for sex, we’d have to train bank tellers to use the Jaws of Life, to extricate men, like your boyfriend, after they got their junk wedged in the deposit slot.)
My recommendation is; don’t think of it as “dumping” him, think of it as giving yourself a raise.
John M. from St. Paul, Minnesota asks, “Dear Poppy, I’m 48, divorced and I’d like to think that that I’m fairly experienced when it comes to sex. A few months ago I started dating a new woman who likes to stick her finger up my butt. I keep telling her I’m not into that, but she keeps saying that I need to relax. What should I do?”
Dear John, while I realize that “assplay” is all the rage with the cool kids, I think some things are better left mysterious…with your turd crib being at the top of that list.
So, I think you’ve got two options:
Option #1: Prior to any foreplay, have an honest and sincere conversation, where you clearly explain that your posterior is off-limits. Then, after she stops laughing at you, inform her that perhaps the two of you should take a break.
Option #2: Surprise her by having a “butt truffle” waiting in the chute. The moment she plucks a cherry from your ass, her prospecting days will be over.
Please write me back, I’m dying to know how this turns out!
Adam B. from Bardstown, Kentucky writes, “Dear Answerman, my mom says sex is better if you love the person, but I’m not sure I believe it. I have great sex with lots of skanks.”
Dear Adam, I’m going to put this in terms you will understand. A McDonald’s Filet O’ Fish may seem like a “great” meal, but it’s really just empty calories and explosive diarrhea, in other words the “skank” of food.
A “great” meal is made with patience and love and care and it’s served by people who don’t wear paper hats. Once you’ve had a truly great meal, you’ll never be able to eat McDonalds again…unless of course you enjoy explosive diarrhea.
Katie H. from Houston, Texas writes, “Dear Poppy, whenever I eat with my best friend she says she’s not that hungry, orders an appetizer, and then proceeds to eat off my plate. How do I tell her to stop without offending her?”
Dear Katie, I once had a similar thing with a mini-pinscher named Argyle and I think you should handle it the same way I did. The next time you are at lunch with her and she starts to eat off your plate, bite her just below her haunches.
Kenny R. from Pensacola, Florida writes: “Dear Answerman, my friend admitted he had sex with a goat, but he said, ‘I put it in the vagina, not the ass, because the ass would be gay.’ I’m totally freaked out. What should I do?”
Dear Kenny, I think it’s time you look at your life choices, specifically how you choose your friends. You see, most of us define a “friend” as someone you can trust through the good times and bad, while it seems you define “friend” as any random hobo you meet in a truckstop bathroom selling expired condoms.
But more importantly, please explain to your “friend” that putting your penis in the ass, or the vagina, of a goat does not make you gay OR straight, it makes you a felon.
Yvette M. from Los Angeles, California writes, “Dear Answerman, I’m about to get married (it’s both of our second marriages) and my fiancee came home in this car. I thought I knew him, what should I do?
Dear Yvette, this is not a car. This is a flame infused mid-life crisis, that advertises it’s driver has the penis of a Telletubby.
I suggest you be direct with him and say, “I can continue to make believe you satisfy me sexually, but the car has to go.” I’m sure he’ll make the right choice.
Mandy R. from Summerlin, Nevada asks: “Dear Answerman, we don’t get much rain out here in Nevada so I’m thinking about replacing my grass with artificial turf. Will my dog Kona be okay relieving herself on the fake stuff?”
Dear Mandy, fake grass, or as I like to call it a “yard merkin“, is as senseless as covering yourself in tattoos to prove you’re “butch” (yes, I’m talking to you Justin Bieber).
Will Kona be okay dropping ass biscuits on your yard merkin? Dogs aren’t picky, we’ll shit in your mouth if you lie on the floor. But, will she like it? In the same way you’d prefer having coitus with an electric toothbrush.
Tito H. from Orange County, CA writes: “Yo Answerman, I’ve been dating the same bitch for three weeks. I know she got me an X-Box for Christmas, which I fucking want, but I don’t want to buy her shit, ’cause I’m gonna dump her ass. What should I do?”
Dear Tito, the mature move would be to break up and let her return the X-Box. Then she will be free to find her soul mate, a parolee, who breeds hamsters in a broken down Chrysler Mini-van.
But, if you decide to part ways once you get the X-Box, I have written a riddle just for you:
Question: What’s the difference between you and my asshole?
Answer: One is a putrid, shit soaked hole that should never be kissed and the other lies between my ass cheeks.
Allison W. from Metarie, Louisiana writes: “Dear Answerman, I work for a small company and we’re about to have a retreat. The owner wants everyone to stay at his vacation home and said “drinking games, bathing suits, hot tub, yee-haw!”. The last thing I want is to see my co-workers drunk, in bathing suits, in a hot tub. What should I do?
Dear Allison, I’m trying to figure out if you work at a frat house or your boss based this “retreat” on the un-made Seth Rogan, James Franco buddy movie entitled “My Boss is a Fucking Perv, Yee-Haw!”
Regardless, my advice is to find a good lawyer and bone up on caribbean tax havens, because you just hit the sexual harassment lottery! Don’t forget your camera, juries LOVE pictures and videos.
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