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.
Anise R. from Darby, Oklahoma asks, “Dear Mr. Answerman, my husband is a non-practicing Catholic and I’m an atheist. His mom, the hard-core Catholic, keeps telling me that if I don’t convert, when we have kids they’ll be ‘bastards and damned to hell’. What should I do?”
Dear Anise, religious bigots are like spoiled milk. From a distance they look normal, but up close they stink like Oprah’s ass sweat. It’s time your fiance got a sack and let his mommy know that if she can’t behave she won’t ever get to see her unborn “damned to hell, bastard” grandchildren. She’ll understand, Catholics know all about ex-communication.
Jimmy J. from Bronx, NY asks, “Yo Answerman, Shyanne be getting up in my grill about marriage and shit. She threatenin’ to leave my ass if I don’t be giving her a diamond ring. I’m a player yo! Jimmy J, can’t be roped into a commitment! Do I break up with her or just string this bitch along?”
Dear Jimmy J., I have begun a Kickstarter campaign to get you a vasectomy. In the meantime, if you feel the need to spread your seed, masturbate and use a tissue…or in your case, an empty pack of Marlboro Lights. Regarding Shyanne, I’m not sure what she ever saw in you, but please break up with her so she can find her true love…an unemployed, middle school drop-out, doing a 15 to 30 for armed robbery.
Anna V. from Beaumont Texas asks, “Dear Mr. Answerman, my fiancee isn’t circumcised so his thing looks like an earthworm. I’m not sure I can spend the rest of my life thinking my husband has a worm in his pants. What should I do?”
Dear Anna, would you be writing me if instead of an earthworm his penis reminded you of an anaconda? Exactly. Let me leave you with some advice my mother gave me, “Size is just a number, but love is unquantifiable.” Of course take that with a grain of salt, my mother liked to eat poop and had six litters from random dog park sex.
Betsy R. from Vicksburg, Mississippi writes, “Dear Mr. Answerman, I just moved in with my fiancé and I found this picture of him in the back of a drawer. When I asked him about it, he said he was in love with this “waifu” pillow a long time ago, but it’s over. He’s a super nice guy, but I’m having second thoughts about marrying him, what do you think?”
What is, flying to the Philippines and telling the customs agent, “I’ve got a kilo of heroin stuffed in my colon and I’m looking to party with some of them hairless boys.”
A better decision than marrying the guy who once dated a pillow case.