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.
Tanya K. from Oswego Wisconsin writes, “Dear Answerman, my fiancee said he wants to pick my wedding gown. I want to do this with my mom and friends, but I don’t want to upset him, what should I do?”
Dear Tanya, let’s talk about what kind of fiancees help pick wedding gowns.
The first kind are control freaks. If your fiancee is one of these you’re in for a life of being treated like a child. Every waking decision will be made for you. It sounds nice, until he tells the waiter, “She’s gonna have the weight watcher plate. She’s trying to lose that lard-filled doughnut she calls a waist.”
The second kind are the closeted gay men. Honestly, this may not be a bad thing. He’ll know what shoes go with which bag, take you to musicals and love to chit chat about the Kardashians. Of course, the downside is that sex will be infrequent and usually end with him saying, “Excuse me while I go throw up and cry.”
Sounds like you have nothing, but joy and happiness in front of you.
Tanya sent us this picture with a note saying, “Good news, he isn’t gay!”
Julia T. from Scarsdale, New York asks, “Dear Answerman, my husband just told me he has a fantasy about wrapping me up in tinsel. I’m afraid if I do this I’ll never be able to look at a Christmas tree the same way. Help me!”
Dear Julia, just to clarify, your husband has a fetish that mixes dominance, bondage and the joyful celebration of Jesus Christ’s birth?!? Never being able to look at a Christmas tree the same way is the least of your problems. Do this and you’ll never be able to look at a Chrismas tree, your husband, or a roll of aluminum foil the same way.
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.
Casandra M. from Austin, Texas asks, “Dear Answerman, I would rather pleasure myself than have sex with my husband. Is that normal?”
Dear Casandra, professionals preach the necessity of freshining up a stale sex life, but “professionals” are oblivious to the damage 20 years of domestic beer, Cinnobuns® and back hair have on sexual magnetism. My call, keep doing what you’re doing and throw the guy a hump every once in a while. If having sex was always supposed to be fun there would be a ride for it at Disneyland.
Tabitha M. from Lima, Ohio asks, “Dear Poppy, my boyfriend Todd is perfect. He’s funny, smart and sexy, I think he’s the one, but how can I be 100% sure?”
Tabitha, cheap chardonnay, Prozac and Fifty Shades of Grey were created for women who were “100% sure” they were marrying the “perfect” guy. If you’re looking for 100% sure, always assume the NY Jets will suck and you’ll never be disappointed.
Yvonne K. from Davenport, Iowa asks, “Dear Answerman, I recently graduated college and I’ve been covering my living expenses and college loans by working as an escort. My parents expect me to go to law school, so if they find out they will explode. What should I do?”
Dear Yvonne, prostitution is a noble profession. You’re bringing joy and happiness to lonely men, whose wives are repulsed by them. And, if you think about it, the only difference between you and a lawyer is that lawyers won’t kiss their clients as they fuck them.
I wanted to take a break from offering advice and give a shout-out to the unsung inventions that make life, livable.
1) The Porto Potty Urinal.
Men are animals. They will pee on/in anything (including, but not limited to, glove compartments, refrigerator crisper drawers and unsuspecting hookers). Men are why the Porto Potty Urinal needed to be invented and is irrefutable proof that God, is a woman.
2) Air conditioning.
Huntsville Alabama, August 1924. Men wearing wool suits and hats. Women in granny panties. Oppressive humidity. No air conditioning. Unless you’re turned on by the smell of fried onions, I don’t know how people got past each other’s body odor long enough to procreate.
3) Frosty Paws by Purina.
Peanut butter flavored ice cream doesn’t make up for castrating the one living thing that is actually happy to see you…but it’s a beginning.