I recently wrote you seeking help for my personal dilemma. You graciously responded with what I felt at the time was outstanding advice. I have followed it to the proverbial tee. So the question I now have is this. Will you be my co-defendant in the legal action now being taken against me as a direct result of following your advice (civil suit, breach of promise, restraining order, and the like)?
Can I count on you for support (emotional as well as financial) during my upcoming trials (metaphorical as well as actual)? I am beginning to have a much clearer understanding of why the dog may have attempted suicide. Were you advising the dog as well? Now that my life is in complete shambles (as opposed to only a few minor issues a week ago), do you have any more advice for me? Obviously some people take it seriously and can become quite vindictive (see above, law suit, breach of promise, restraining order, and the like) when you make them promises of things like trips alone to sunny warm places and free child care and housekeeping in their absence and then don't follow through, so it might be best if you keep it simple.
My questions are: I keep coming over the top and pulling every shot, is there a quick and easy fix? What do you think about older men dating younger women? Is W as dumb as he looks? Will it ever stop raining and conversely, will the sun ever shine again? If silver bullets are used on vampires, what are gold bullets used on? How young is too young? How old is too old? When is enough really enough?
Anxiously awaiting your reply
Dear Anxious for Good Reason (and I mean that in the fondest way),
Of course you can count on me for emotional, financial, legal, and most especially metaphorical support. Any time. But I can’t, or at least, won’t help you with your golf swing.
But wait! You misconstrued my advice. I didn’t realize you were looking for a phony line that you had no intention of actually carrying through on. Dammit, I hate that. Now I know how Einstein felt.
In a vague way, you remind me of a friend I used to know, he was smart and funny and a good Democrat. In fact, I’m pretty sure he was George McGovern’s second best friend, or second cousin or something, and he also invented the weekend. (Have you seen those bumper stickers? “Organized Labor: The People Who Brought You the Weekend.” And while we’re on the subject of bumper stickers, I saw another one yesterday: “I love my mother-in-law because she kicks ass.” I didn't even know this thought existed in the universe, let alone was available for posting on a car.) But I stray from the point. This guy, he turned 50 recently, I think his friends wanted to buy him a shot of top shelf whiskey or something, but he went bowling that day instead, and then decided to support Clark. Go figure. Hey, how did we get on him?
Back to you. You ask my opinion on older men dating younger women. If you want snarky judgmental advice, there are places to go for that. But here, I’m just going to say, um, maybe a red car would have been less hassle? But seriously, you are now the designated driver of a delicate young little heart and there’s way too much nastiness in the world already, so be careful and kind and most of all honest. I recommend that you snap out of it, tie up all of these loose ends in the gentlest way possible, and go to P.V. to play golf with your injured buddy. I bet he would cook for you.
We thankfully can’t answer the question about gold bullets. Because as of yet, it hasn't been used, right? But that could change.
P.S. That was an irritable little comment about the dog. When a dog is found passed out with a spilled bottle of aspirin all around, it's easy to leap to conclusions, but she may have just had a headache.
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