SHADDAP! Want some cheese with that whine?

(Photograph copyright 2010, all rights reserved.)

For those that are interested, the cat on the far left of this photo (Charlie) is only a seven month old kitten. The girls are two years old. Charlie has a lot of growing to do. This DOES make me nervous, because he's over ten pounds right now.

Right. To work.

I want to start with a whine of my own. Here's me, whining: I have a hideous head cold that has me wishing my eyes would just pop out to relieve the pressure. The fever that I had all day yesterday is finally gone. I think my brain is melting, though. I'm so clogged that the drugs are barely making a dent. I lost my voice three times yesterday. Woe is me. Woe! Woe! Woe!

How's that? Actually, I DO feel better today, but I was overcome with guilt because when The Boy had this cold, I wasn't as sympathetic as I should have been. When I told my beloved that I was sick, the answer I got was... let's just say pretty sarcastic and leave it at that, shall we? I figure we're even now.

Ok, off to the letters! Find them here .

1. Oh, you poor darling! I bet you're wishing you'd had that brain upgrade in high school instead of that shoe shopping spree! Oh. You don't get how stupid you were?

Let's review. On the very first day of your dream internship, you got sloppy, disgusting drunk, thought going to your boss's home was somehow a good idea, you barfed all over his living room and you're wondering if you should punish HIM for trying to kiss you?

You have problems, little girl, and sexual harassment is NOT one of them.

SHADDAP! No more wine for you!

When are you going to realize that you acted like a pinheaded moron from the sticks whose social skills include embroidery and pegging rocks at frogs in the woods? How stupid are you, anyway?

You got drunk. Very, very drunk. Sloppy, disgusting, vomiting drunk.

You got into a strange man's car (you only knew the guy for one day, even if he IS your boss) and went home with him and you think HE behaved badly? What did you expect? (For those of you who are going to get on my case about how no one deserves to be smooched against their will, you're right. She still acted like a complete ass.)

However, you are a very, very lucky little girl, aren't you? Granted, you're too much of a thick headed dolt to understand this, but your boss is TERRIFIED right now. Of course he doesn't want you to quit, moron, he's terrified of a lawsuit! You think he doesn't know the implications of sexually harassing an infant intern?

Are you underage? He could get in some serious trouble just because he let you go to that party at all! Oh, and in case you missed it? HE WAS DRUNK, TOO. Otherwise he would NEVER have let you in his car in the first place. Everything that happened after, including letting you sleep it off on his couch, was motivated by pure, unadulterated fear.

Take this as a lesson learned, cookie. You don't get to drink on the job - and ANY company-sponsored interaction, even if it's at a bar, IS on the job. A company get-together is NOT a goddamned frat party! A large part of being an intern is so that you can learn to behave like a professional with something to contribute. Wastebaskets full of vomit are not the contribution I'm referring to here.

You do realize that you will never work for these people again, right? Even though you'll be able to work there this summer, they've taken your measure and you came up lacking. Everything you did the first day on the job was so unprofessional, so childish, and so stupid that no one is going to want to risk being around you any more. If you complain about the "harassment", you're guaranteeing that you will never work in that industry again.

It ain't fair, but where is it written that life should be fair?

Pray that no one took pictures of your drunken revelling, kid. Because if they did, the vision of you acting like a jackass at work is going to follow you for the rest of your working life and might even keep you from working at the local Pup'n'Taco in whatever Podunk town you grew up in. Where you apparently belong.

2. Hoo boy! Lady, you got issues. Somehow you managed to raise a smart, pennywise young man who is considerate of others AND manages to keep his eye on the bottom line. Any five-year-old that manages to save half the price of a $250.00 gaming system by himself is bloody brilliant. Reselling to get an upgrade is even smarter.

Ah, but you aren't happy with that, are you. No, his uncle missed a payment and MUST be punished, right?

SHADDAP! Have a drink and chill!

If your son can manage to set up a payment plan so his uncle can have his old gaming system, then he can figure out that his uncle can't afford to finish paying right now. If the kid is upset - and I don't think he is - tell him that Uncle Gamer hasn't got a job, is one step away from ending up on the street, and sonny-boy will have to wait for his twenty bucks. Easy.

But no. You aren't happy with that, are you? You want that money, dammit and to HELL with Uncle Gamer!

What were you planning on doing? Catch your son's uncle in an alley and beat him with a Nerf bat until he antes up? Put a dead squirrel in his bed? Tell his Mommy? Steal his Teddy bear? Tell all the girls he has cooties? Spread a rumor that he still wears tightie whities?

Grow the fuck up, lady and stay out of this. Your kid is smarter than you are. Hell, my kitten is smarter than you and he's only got about three brain cells right now! Or do you WANT your son to learn from Mommy how to be a bullying whiner?

Leave the kid alone.

3. Gotcha. Gay exec, good job, fun people to work with..... It's all good. Are you sure you aren't a certain relative of mine? You SOUND like you're in an identical situation...but then he doesn't waste his time whining!

To recap, you went out with a group from work, the conversation turned to a same-sex smooch on TV and one of the women you THOUGHT you knew threw a fit and burst out with a homophobic rant that shocked the crap out of you. I get it. It's upsetting to find out just what some people are like, and this was especially shocking. She apologized, you accepted it, but you aren't comfortable with her any more.

I get this. I really do. I wouldn't want to be buddies with someone who pulled something like that either. So why are you having so much trouble with her now?

SHADDAP! No drinking with the staff!

How the heck do you succeed in your job and not know how to handle this? I'm guessing that a lot of what you do is manage people, and that requires the ability to be objective and just a tad cold-blooded when it comes to managing their expectations, too.

I'm certain that this women is sincerely embarrassed by the (possibly) booze-induced loosening of the tongue and subsequent rant. No doubt she's heard about it from other people who were there that night. She may be a genuinely nice person who likes puppies and kittens and gives money to orphans, even. It's not wrong for you to find her bigotry towards gays disturbing, though.

You DO have to talk to her. It's only fair. She's going to keep bothering you about this unless you set her straight anyway, so bite the bullet, pull off that Band-aid, um..... whatever cliche you can think of about getting your shit together.... and TELL HER. Make an appointment with her, sit down in your office, and tell her exactly what you told Prudie.

Prudie's advice on this sucks, by the way. You should NOT just put up with this nonsense, and you do NOT have to listen to some idiot rant nastily about your sexual orientation. What this woman said was reprehensible to you and the fact that she apologized does not mean that her attitude has changed.

Try this:

"I understand that you're uncomfortable about the comments you made. You should be, they were very upsetting to me. I accept your apology, but I feel that our friendship should be strictly professional and limited to the office."

That should do it. Oh, and take a lesson from this. Work friends and personal friends are different creatures. Keeping those two arenas separate from each other is sometimes necessary. Don't be afraid to say this.

4. Ooooh! I LOVE these. Bridezillas, Momzillas, Knocked-up-baby-sisterzillas....

I have to say that weddings, parties and babies are probably the most revealing events in the world. Want to find out a friend's REAL character? Pay attention to the way she acts when she's planning on of these events. THIS is where you separate the women from the girls and the girls from the assholes!

This one is a doozy, too! I agree with you. Four goddamned baby showers is three too many. Registering at TWO stores for the entire contents of each is tacky and greedy beyond all measure. Your sister either has balls the size of coconuts or is dumb as a bucket of rocks for allowing this to happen.

But that's not what you asked. You want to know how to tell her how cheesy this all is. I'm going to have to tell you to

SHADDAP! Drink her booze and let it go.

I can't believe your sister's friends are falling for all this bullshit, but that's their problem.

Yes, it's a shameless, tacky and manipulative grab for presents, and since she's registered for things like cribs, strollers and beds, then I have to wonder if she and her husband are perhaps too broke to be having a child anyway. Did they register for a minivan, too?

The etiquette on this says that parents are responsible for the necessities of a baby's life. Furniture is their responsibility, and if someone is going to buy it as a gift, it should be a close family member that does it with no fanfare at all. Simply put, you don't hit up friends for the big stuff.

There's not a bloody thing you can do about this, though. You know your sister won't listen. The way you describe her, she'd probably have a screaming fit if you even suggested she's acting like a greedy three-year-old. So do nothing.

Go to ONE shower. Don't get anything on the registry. Get something useful and pretty or whatever, and skip the list. I suspect a lot of people are going to do that anyway. Say NOTHING if your sister whines about your gift and don't cave and obey her when she embarks on a tantrum about it.

Oh, and relax. You aren't the only one that's noticed your sister's grabby behavior. She may end up with a few nasty surprises when she opens the presents at the baby showers. Not everyone is going to fall for this bullshit.

____________________________________________________

Practical suggestions for prosaic shower gifts:

1. A dozen onesies or tiny t-shirts. Seriously. Babies, as cute as they are, are also grubby little critters that need to be washed and tidied up on a regular basis. Having clean things on hand is important.

2. A dozen bibs. Babies drool. A LOT. Many clean bibs are good to have.

3. The monster pack of newborn diapers. Did I mention that babies are grubby? They need to be changed a zillion times a day, too. Diapers are not only expensive, running out is a tragedy of epic proportions.

4. A Costco-sized package of baby wipes. Again, grubby.

5. A couple of dozen white terry-cloth hand towels or restaurant side towels. These are to be used for general clean-up, burping and whatever else one needs them for. No matter how ghastly they get and no matter what manner of goo and grossness gets on them, you can bleach them and they will always look nice and white.

6. Baby bath gels, shampoos, etc. Running out of that stuff is really annoying.

7. A gift certificate to a spa for Mom that includes hair, facial, and a massage. She's going to need it.

8. An IOU for a couple of nights of babysitting. Weirdly, babies are not so entrancing 24/7 as you might think. Even if the parents need a break to walk around the block three or four times so they can use their adult voices, that's important, too.

9. A stack of trashy, no-brain-involved novels for parents that aren't going to sleep even when the baby IS sleeping. Magazine subscriptions are good, too. Distractions are necessary.

10. A card that's good for ten phone calls where the new parent is specifically allowed to vent with no comments unless they ask a question. Trust me. This is another necessity.

________________________________________________

That's it for this week! Have a good weekend and remember, when in doubt, SHADDAP!

SHADDAP! Wreak Havoc, Reap The Whirlwind Edition

(Photograph copyright 2010, all rights reserved.)

We're back! And summer is upon us. The City of Wind has had almost continual rain for the last week or so, and now that the sun is out, gardens are growing like gangbusters. My little front bed is looking downright jungle-like and some of the plants are starting to seem...predatory. The plants on the back deck are also growing like crazy. Between the mandevilla vines, the morning glories and the sweet peas (all screaming pink this year), I may have to use a machete to get into the garage soon.

I am loving it.

But there are letters. THEME letters, no less, because Father's Day is upon us. Read the originals at Dear Prudence .

1. Ok. This story is tugging at my heartstrings. Really it is. I'm sobbing. You can't see it, but there's mascara pouring down my face (note to self: buy Maybelline next time) at the mere thought of the angst you're putting yourself through for no good reason - er - going through in your tough, tough life. (Yeah. That's it. Tough life.)

To recap. You married your high school sweetheart. (I don't generally think this is a smart idea, but who am I to judge?) You had an affair. (See? This is why you don't marry the guy from high school. Boring. Just sayin'.) You got knocked up. Your husband agreed to raise your child as his own, which makes him a pretty good guy in my books. You got very, very lucky there, you idiot.

So. Now that your son is three, you're killing yourself in terror that he might find out that Dad is not the sperm donor?

SHADDAP!

Ok. We know you're an idiot. First for marrying the first guy that asked, second for having an affair. That being the case, I have to ask...How do you KNOW that the fling you had resulted in your son? Did you have a DNA test? No? Were you having sex with your husband at the time? The letter is maddeningly unclear. Because if you WERE with your husband and your fling at the same time, you KNOW either one could be the sperm supplier right? Right?

Do we have to have the "birds and the bees" talk here? Have you figured it out yet? I know there's no guarantee you have. It can take three or even four kids for some women to figure that out. Oy. It's like talking to a broken small appliance.

Right. This isn't enough of a complication for you, is it? No, you have to keep adding to the drama. You say "I worry constantly about my son growing older and learning about his paternity in some way."

Really? See, here's the thing. I know that if you felt free to write to the Internet lady about this, you've already told every single family member, friend, postal worker, grocery store clerk and all the guys on the road crew that time you were stuck in traffic. There probably isn't a hope in hell that the poor kid WON'T find out, thanks to your blather. No doubt you've solicited the opinion of so many people that one of them is GUARANTEED to tattle on you.

This isn't about your son. This isn't about your husband, who is raising the child that is, in all the ways that count HIS SON. No, this is about an idiot Bibby-Sue who is so desperate for attention and drama that you not only had an affair in the first place, you are now PLANNING to destroy your son's image of you AND the man that chose to raise him.

You can't content yourself with a happy marriage and a beautiful son, can you? Tell you what. Say nothing. Hope that when (not if) your son finds out what an idiot you are, he's already figured that out for himself. Rehearse playing the pathetic victim. By then you'll be an expert.

2. Well, well, well. The one and only Father's Day letter from an actual father! Congratulations! You win...some sort of prize. How about that granola bar that's been riding around in the glove box of my car for the last week or so?

You coach your son's baseball team, so you go to his games. You DON'T coach your daughter's softball team and so you don't go to HER games because....you don't feel like making the effort on a non-coaching night and you just don't understand why your wife thinks you should.

SHADDAP!

I was with the posters on The Fray that were saying that kids are overprogrammed anyway and that parents shouldn't have to attend their every burp and fart for their entire childhoods. I get that. I remember there were times when one neighborhood parent would chauffeur a bunch of kids to a game on a week night and then haul them all home afterwards. Parents get busy sometimes.

What I DON'T get is why you only feel the need to go to your son's games. What is the matter with you? Are you really too stupid to see what you're doing? Maybe you don't think girls should play sports? Maybe you really DO like your son better....

A DOUBLE SHADDAP for you, moron.

Your wife is right. You ARE teaching your daughter that she doesn't matter to you. You ARE telling her that her brother is more worthy of your attention than she is. You claim that you just don't want to be at the ball park every night of the week, but what you're really saying is that the park is only interesting to you is when your SON is there.

I really don't care what you're telling yourself. You might even think you're telling the truth. It's still an utter and unmitigated bullshit excuse for ignoring your daughter's accomplishments, though. Nobody is telling you that you have to go to every single event both of your kids have for the rest of your natural life. That would be nuts. Your kids can handle a lot of things without you and they should. They need to learn to be independent at one point.

But this is nonsense, right here. If you keep it up, keep ignoring your daughter in favor of your son, you're going to create a can of worms that will live on for both of them for the rest of their lives. Your daughter will learn that you can't be trusted. She will also resent her brother. She may do some pretty stupid things to get your attention, which I'm predicting you'll respond to by letting her mother handle it.

Eventually, though, she'll give up. She won't hassle you any more. She won't go to you for...anything. Why should she? It's not like you've ever shown that you give a damn about her. Nope. You'll have your peace and quiet one day, and no one will nag you any more. You won't ever have to deal with your boring daughter again, ever.

Prudie advised you to volunteer to coach your daughter's team next year. That would be the smart thing to do, as well as going to some of her games this year. But you won't do that, so I won't go there.

How do you like them apples, Daddy-O?

3. Here we go again. Hi, Marsha the Martyr! How's it goin' there? Yup. I see you STILL don't have a life! That's what you were aiming for though, right?

SHADDAP!

Oh boy. You have three teenagers, and you divorced their father when they were young. You say, "I...decided to sacrifice my personal life to make up for the loss of their father."

Ok. You chose martyrdom over a life of your own. I get that. It's about three generations too late to classify as "normal" in any way, but we can start there. How have your children "lost their father", though? I know he's not dead. You say yourself that they've been in constant contact with him throughout their lives.

No, visitation is not always fun. It doesn't sound like your ex exactly covered himself with glory as a parent, either. Planting three kids in front of a television all weekend is not what I'd consider good parenting and most people would agree with that. The fact that they don't want to visit him any more makes perfect sense. Why go over there indeed?

Ah, but you "cherish the time (you) have alone when they're with him." Again, makes perfect sense. Being a single parent is no walk in the park. You DO need some alone time once in a while.

You know what I'm hearing here? I'm not hearing that the idiot you were smart enough to divorce hasn't been the best parent in the world. What I'm hearing is I gave up my life. I need some private time. And the corker ( I LOVE this one), "Now I'm worried that in my old age, when they're stressed out, they'll put me away."

Really? Seriously? Instead of encouraging them to talk to their father and rebuild that relationship, instead of offering to go with them and help them open the conversation, instead of setting up an appointment with a counselor so that everyone can talk openly, all you care about is your "naked with ice cream time"!? You selfish jerk! I'd worry too, if I were you.

Get a grip, woman. If you don't take some control of the situation and PUT YOUR CHILDREN FIRST, for once, you won't need to worry about them putting you in a home. They'll leave you to your eternal whining and moaning and not even notice when you have to take yourself to the nursing home.

Here's what you need to do.... Talk to your kids. Get laid. Talk to their father. Get laid. Visitation may have to change - take care of that. Get laid....

See, if you have no life of your own, and I can see you don't, then your kids won't ever learn what a normal life is like. They won't learn what relationships are supposed to look like. They'll either be doormats like you, or lazy assholes like their father. And YOU are the one that chose to let them think that's what life is supposed to be. THAT is the biggest crime of all.

4. Oy. Again with the stupid questions. What is the world coming to when people can't give a simple, one-word answer to a stupid question? If anyone knows, please tell me.

Dear old 70-year-old Dad wants you to write a glowing testimonial that is designed to guarantee him a constant supply of fuckable chicks from the Internet dating site. Even though you say he's treated you and your family badly, even though he has "psychological issues" and even though YOU SAY "...there's a reason he's single" you think you should do it?

Your "reason" is classic, too. You don't want to hurt his feelings!

Hahahahahaha! OOOoooooooh stop it! HEE hee hee hee hee! No really, you're killing me here! HAHAHAhahahahaha! I mean it, I have to pee!

SHADDAP!

Try "no", dipshit! Unless you WANT to see him with some unsuspecting woman because you just HAD to help that loser?

SHADDAP!

(Photograph copyright 2010, all rights reserved.)

Hello, hello! I'm back. I'm even posting the same day the letters came out! Yay! The Great Procrastinator manages to get something done on time. I should get a medal.

I also have news! This blog, as well as One Messy Lady can also be seen on Salon. You can get to them here at Open Salon . I freely admit to shamelessly shilling for The Fly over there because...well because why not? What this means for you is that YOU get to tell me off in two different places from now on. Think of the possibilities. You can agree with me at one location and tell me I'm full of it in the other. I know at least two, maybe even three of you that would LOVE that.

For those reading this on Salon, I also answer real letters from people who write to me randomly. You can do this by sending me an e-mail onemessylady@gmail.com any time. Beware, though. I am not now nor have I ever been a professional counselor. I have no credentials but common sense and a decidedly odd way of looking at the world. Let me know if you want a SHADDAP! or to Ask Aunt Messy. Go to http://askauntmessy.blogspot.com for a sample, if you like.

Now to work. The originals are here as always.

1. Hmm. I'm of two minds on this one, so you get two answers. Ready?

You walked in on a superior who was having a little "private time" at his desk and you're "95 percent sure" that he was indulging in the kind of "private time" that has a happy ending. Ok. Now you're pondering who to tell, or IF to tell.

A. You're wondering if you should run tattling to one of your bosses....

SHADDAP!

DINGdingdingding! Give the girl a prize!

You're right! You can't go to anyone in your office with this because the "culprit" (even though you're the boor that went into HIS office without knocking) will accuse you of lying and you will LOSE that one. As far as everyone else there is concerned, you ARE the kid and you are dispensible. In fact, infant lawyers just like you are a dime a dozen. You could be replaced in less than ten minutes, twit! He could arrange to have someone fire your ass for using too much tissue during allergy season and no one would blink.

You're itching to tell though, I can see that. Is it already on your Facebook page? Did you only tell your bestest bestest friends? Have you whispered into the ears of everyone from the janitors to the conveyancing secretary that you saw Mr. X wanking in his office before anyone else was at work? If you have, do you really think that every single person you blabbed to is going to keep the secret?

SHADDAP! Again.

No, really. Shut up. It never happened. Duh.

Oh, I forgot. The next time you go to work very early, make noise. Lots of noise. Drop something. I'm sure you can think of something.

B. Now here I defer to Schuyler The Cat, who picked up on this part of your letter: "Unfortunately, he's not even the person who makes the pay decisions, so it's not as though I can leverage this in any lucrative way."

Here's another instance of the dumbness. Are you serious? You can't think of any way to leverage this? After all that schooling, did you learn nothing?

SHADDAP!

Yeesh. You are thinking too small, girl. A salary increase is the best you could do? Fercryinoutloud, do I have to walk you through it? Sigh.

Right. Now pay attention.

You are not going to work in that firm forever. One day, you might need someone to give you a glowing recommendation, right? If by some miracle no one finds out what a silly ass you are and you actually come up for partnership one day, do you even know that these things are decided by a GROUP of partners - just like Wankboy. Someone is going to have to nominate you. Someone is going to have to advocate for your acceptance....

Did you get any of that? No? Then I give up. If you actually need to write to the Internet lady to make this decision, you've got the worst case of cranial-rectal inversion I've seen in months.

2. You had a nasty child support battle with your ex, who has now told your 15-year-old son all sorts of nasty things about you, most of which are fiction. So far, that sounds pretty...pathetic actually, not to mention ordinary. These things happen often.

This is not your dilemma. Your dilemma is that you would never have known about this if you hadn't snooped in your son's computer. Now you feel all squicky and guilty and you can't decide whether to tell the kid how you got the information....

SHADDAP!

I thought you were the adult here? Your son - surly as most 15-year-old kids can be - is still your son. Your ex-husband is just the jerk you know he already is, which is why you're divorced, so he doesn't count as an adult... but you can't tell your son that.

I'm going to give you the advice that a LOT of people on the Fray did. Download everything you read on to a zip drive, and keep checking for more details for a full week. Then send it to your attorney and settle the child support thing once and for all. I expect your ex will be quite surprised to know that slander is actionable.

What I don't get is why the hell you can't talk to your son. Are you thick?

SHADDAP!

Prudie was right. Tell the kid that you snooped. Apologize. Apologize again. Teenagers are experts at self-righteous anger, pouting outrage, and excuse-making. You'll have to break through that before he'll be coherent. Give it a day or so. But no more.

Tell him that you read what his father said and then ASK him if he has any questions about that. Point out that he will never know the truth unless he asks YOU about your life. Also point out that you always wanted HIM. The fact that your relationship with your husband went south is no reflection on your son. Tell him this about a hundred times.

He's still your kid, and he is still a minor. You DO have the right to check up on his Internet usage, and you DO have the right to talk to him about it. Of course, if you spend ONE SECOND whining about your ex and telling his son that he's an asshole.....then you deserve whatever you get.

Don't put your kid in the middle of your divorce.

3. Having a friend die is tragic. Being the passenger in the car she was driving when she died is beyond tragic. It's awful. I can't imagine what that was like. I am so sorry this happened to you.

That's not enough though, is it? A year hasn't even passed and you have decided that you should be "...entitled to go through her possessions..." .

SHADDAP!

Idiot. I see I have to spell this out for you.

NO. You do NOT have the right to bang on the door of the grieving parents and demand to root through your dead friend's things, taking back all of the gifts you gave her. They're gifts, dippy. They stopped being yours the instant you handed them to her. What about that confuses you?

NO. Telling them that their dead daughter borrowed a book from you and you want it back now is NOT acceptable behavior. I suspect that you're trying to make this the excuse you want for pounding on the door of her grieving parents so that you can dig around in your dead friend's things.

SHADDAP! Again.

There is no universe where anything you propose to do is acceptable. You were a friend. You are not a parent. You are not a spouse.

Geez, where in blazes did you learn your manners? You gormless twit, you have no business intruding on your friend's parents UNLESS they invite you. Since they haven't done that yet, I'm guessing that you're the last person they want to see right now.

What? You're surprised that they might not want to see you? Or do you want to look in their eyes and see the wish that you were the one that died? They can't help that, you know. It's going to run through their minds. They'll be asking themselves what YOU could have done to stop the accident from happening.

Could you have stopped their daughter from getting behind the wheel if she was drinking? Could you have been the momentary distraction that killed their little girl? Was it your music that was on so loud that their daughter didn't hear the honking horn that would have saved their life?

Leave these people alone. You have mementos enough.

4. Well, aren't you special? Oh wait....none of this is about you. So help me out, why is it that you're offended when people hug your husband and thank him for his military service again?

SHADDAP!

Now pay attention. You know that your husband lost his leg after he left the military. He knows that, too. Yes, it's also incredibly rude that strangers make the assumption that the events were reversed. I've got all that.

So why are YOU writing this letter? I didn't see anywhere that your husband finds it upsetting. Is he even offended, or do you just not want people manhandling your husband, including little old veterans?

I will grant you that having strangers walk up and talk to you is unutterably rude. On the few occasions this has happened to me, I'm hard pressed to step back without slapping their hands or something. The words "piss off, weirdo" come unbidden to my lips and I have to bite my tongue to keep them from popping out.

So. Tell your husband that this creeps you out. Perfect the blank stare, the "deafness" to the cries of the intrusive, the art of not stopping for them. Own your sidewalk. Don't step aside.

Then just...deal. If your HUSBAND has a problem with this, then HE should write to the Internet lady for advice. You don't have a dog in this fight.

SHADDAP!

(Photograph copyright 2010, all rights reserved.)

Ah, summer is here! Woo hoo! I was out planting my container garden the other day, facing the sun in 90 degree heat and IT FELT GOOD! This is something I just have to do. At least one day of the year, I need to get outside and get all sweaty when everyone else is hiding out indoors. No sunscreen. And no, I don't care. There are times when you have to just let go of the preachiness and play in the dirt.

Then I read Dear Prudie and realized that dumbness has continued to abound, disregarding the season. This is going to be fun!

1. Ah, family shit! Where would we be without it? Everyone likes to subscribe to the total bullshit myth that "family is everything" and that "families all love each other all the time". People actually believe that Norman Rockwell paintings represent real life, and that everyone should always strive to be just like they think the folks in the paintings are like.

It's nonsense. We know it. We know that the lovely picture of Thanksgiving Dinner is a mere millisecond frozen in time. After that millisecond, Billy throws up all of the potato chips he inhaled before dinner because smoking a stolen cigarette behind the outhouse after that was a BAD idea. The baby barfs in sympathy.

As Mom and Grandma clean up the mess, the dog gets into the house, knocks down the bowl of sweet potatoes and eats the whole thing, running away on being discovered and barfs up the whole thing in the middle of the kitchen floor. Billy's little sister, Maisie starts eating what the dog barfed up. Meanwhile, the cat, ignored to this point because cats are quiet, has run away with a wing off the turkey and dragged it, grease and all, under a guest room bed to nibble on where it will be discovered weeks later because of the reek of rotting meat.

When they finally get to back to the table, Grandpa and Uncle Fred will start to giggle hysterically and fall asleep on their plates because they've been sampling the new batch of moonshine behind the woodshed and overdid it. Mom will then throw a screaming tantrum because of all the work she put into a dinner that's RUINED, just RUINED, and storm off to the back porch to cool off and see if there's any 'shine left in that jug.

Grandma, in the meantime, has turned off her hearing aid, filled plates for herself and the kids and takes them into the living room to watch "Halloween II" and "Saw" while they eat. Later that night, when the kids wake up screaming while Mom, Uncle Fred and Grandpa are still reeling around the back yard looking for another jug that was just there a minute ago, dammit. Dad will take the kids back into the living room to watch "Peter Pan" and scare the little buggers even more. They won't sleep for a week now.

The next day, everyone will eat cold leftovers for breakfast, bitch about the holiday and blame each other for the disasters all the way home in the car (stopping only once so that Billy can finally get it right and barf in the ditch instead of on Gran's good linen table cloth) and return next year, feeling all warm and fuzzy and traditional. Until the cat hurls a hairball on the kitchen counter and Aunt Mabel has hysterics.....

____________________________________________

And that's family life - the real thing. And so, LW, why should you be any different? You have a mother who's too dumb to come in when it rains, let alone take care of hordes of special needs kids and then adopts the most disturbed, violent teenager in the entire foster system anyway. Unable to realize that she's an idiot, your mother tries to dump your adoptive "sister" on you and your family and what do you do?

You feel GUILTY about not wanting the violent, suicidal, almost-adult stranger in your home with your children?

SHADDAP!

Your mother is a moron. Keep repeating this to yourself. You were very diplomatic in your letter, using words like "flighty" and saying that she "tends not to make rational decisions", but when it comes right down to it, you have to admit that your mother is not only not the brightest light in the chandelier, she's an outright drooling idiot who shouldn't be trusted with a house plant, let alone a mentally disturbed teenager.

So why do you feel guilty? You say that you could persuade your husband to take this kid in for two weeks, but even you admit that you don't want her....

SHADDAP! AGAIN

Are you that starved for Mommy's approval that you're willing to put your entire family at risk? Did she not like you best? Do you still hope that one day Mommy will grow a brain and appreciate you? You know that's not going to happen, right? Mommy doesn't give a rat's ass what anyone thinks/wants/needs. She does just exactly as she pleases and the consequences of that are just not something that enters her pea-sized brain.

Your sister has the right approach. She very sensibly chose to put HER OWN family first and not indulge your mother's idiotic whims. Yes, she is treating your mother like a child. Your mother deserves it. She's acting like a spoiled two-year-old, screaming "I want" and hoping that you'll give in just to shut her up.

Are you going to let her do that to you? Really? And if something dreadful should happen while the violent mentally disturbed teenager is staying with you - like she sets the house on fire or decides to sacrifice your toddler to the meth gods - will you be all right with that?

Listen to your husband and (heaven help us) Prudie. Acknowledge that life ain't fair, call your local child welfare agency and clue them in, then tell your mother that her vacation plans aren't going to work for you or anyone else INCLUDING her adoptive daughter.

2. Are you sure you're a graduate student? Really? Because that would make you older than twelve. I'm having trouble with the whole *he doesn't know I exist, but I know this is true loooooooooooooove!* thing.

SHADDAP!

You say that this 19-year-old is no longer in your class and is unlikely to be in the future, so you want to ask him out. Whatever. Even though you haven't exchanged three words with the guy, you're convinced that this is a grand passion that will sustain you both for eternity..... I'm having trouble going on. "Sappy bullshit" is something I just don't do well.

Whatever. When you go on to say "...I worry that if word gets out that I am dating a former student, my reputation as a teacher will be undermined." you're right. Your reputation WILL suffer. Is it fair? No. But face it. You're 25, he's 19. In your position, this matters.

Even if you DID, by some freak chance, hook up for a night or two, you are not senior enough and you don't have enough credibility at the university for people to just snicker for a minute and move on. Worse, if you do finally confess your love to the guy, you are running the real risk that he's going to tell the whole world that some old skank of a grad student has a crush on him.

So. Go find yourself someone else to fixate on. Preferably a fictional character. Someone that you can't make a fool of yourself with...

3. I feel for you. Cancer, surgery, chemo and radiation....all are things I wouldn't wish on anyone. I can't begin to imagine what you're going through. Coping with this, plus dealing with family and work is a nightmare. But it sounds like you're recovering - the treatment is going well and taking a pill at home beats the heck out of going in to the hospital every few weeks for treatment, right?

What I don't get is that you've been through all this. You've put your life and health into the hands of oncologists, a surgeon and various other health professionals and you're basing your prognosis on something you've read on the Internet? How silly is that?

SHADDAP! and pay attention.

I know you probably would rather eat worms than have to go to yet another doctor, but you have no choice. You need to sit down with your oncologist and ASK what the future might hold. See, you owe that, not to yourself, but to your family. How fair is it to THEM to have you walking around convinced that you're going to keel over at any minute?

Then you have to deal with this depression. Yes, you have a lot to be depressed about. You've been through a lot. You admit in your letter that you need to hold it together for your husband and family and you intend to fight for your life. You can't do that right now while you're obsessing about the death that the anonymous Internet person told you about, right?

So. If your doctor tells you to take an antidepressant, DO IT. Join a survivor's group. TALK to people. You need to find a way to cope, because you sure aren't doing that now.

4. Waaaaaaaaaaaaaahhh! I don't WANNA take out the garbage! Why can't my sister do it? Waaaaaaaaaaaaaah! I don't WANNA make the bed! It's just going to get messy again anyway! Waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah! I don't WANNA help the lady with the walker carry her groceries!

SHADDAP! Idiot. It's just a freakin' water bottle!

You are asked to do one 30 second job once every week or so. You are the one who can most easily do the job. So just do it and quit bitching.

It's tempting to take on the Mom tones and say something like "If you really want something to whine about, the garage needs cleaning." or "In the time you've spent whining about this you could have done it eleven times."

Do you really want me to do that, or do you feel like enough of an idiot already?

________________________________________________

Right. Now, The Boy looked at the last problem from an engineering perspective, because that's what he does. He has a suggestion. If anyone out there is affiliated with a university or knows an engineering professor - there's a design challenge that would make an excellent class project here.

Five gallon water bottles are heavy, but worse, they're awkward. Lots of people (men and women) can LIFT the stupid things, but aiming them into the machine is not so easy. The main reason for that is the bottle design. It's almost impossible to get a solid grip on the thing. There are no handles. All you have is this slippery plastic thing with no handles.

So here's the challenge. Someone needs to do a re-design on those bottles and come up with a new version that's easier to handle and most importantly, fits on existing machines. See, the machines are pretty sturdy and they're simple enough that they don't really break down often. It's the bottles that have the shorter life span, and they'll be adopted instantly if no one has to pop for new machines.

Just a thought.

Have a terrific weekend!

SHADDAP! TALK to Each Other, Morons!

(Photograph copyright 2010, all rights reserved.)

What a week! I get back from vacation, hoping for warm weather because we had sleet in Oregon fercryinoutloud and look what happens! For the entire week we were gone, the weather was lovely. NOW it's downright chilly out there. In the 50s-type chilly. Yeesh. Oh well. Good thing I didn't put ALL of the sweaters away, right?

This week is all about Mom. Good Moms, bad Moms, indifferent Moms, oddball Moms...they're everywhere.

We all know Mothers Day is this Sunday. How can I tell? Well, there's not a restaurant reservation to be had anywhere in this town for the next week. Plus there are a gazillion flower ads all over the place....and Prudie does only Mom-related letters. Read them here .

1. You poor little darling! What a terrible life you've led. Why, I'll bet you suffered so, what with the supportive parents, the love and care, the tuition they're no doubt paying.......

SHADDAP!

Please explain to me in detail why it is that your mother's FORMER, LONG IN THE PAST job is somehow a problem for you? Or did you just not want to know? Do you think she became a porn actress because she somehow psychically knew that you were going to be embarrassed by it all these years later and she wanted to do that to you? Are you so dense that you're willing to toss away your relationship with the two people who care about you most in the entire world?

Listen, kid. Your mother is the same person now that she was before you graduated high school. She is the same lady that changed your diapers, wiped your nose, made your lunches, and made the Closet Monster run away. In fact, the only reason she told you that she did work in porn is that she didn't want you to find photos of her online and have to deal with it when she wasn't close by for you to ask her about it. Damned considerate of her, don't you think?

The correct answer to the above is YES, dippy.

Get past this adolescent jackass bullshit and do it NOW. Your mother's life in porn is OVER. It was a JOB. It's how she made a living, as in a roof over her head and food on the table. Your father has always known about it, and has never stopped loving her or held it against her (because THAT you would have noticed). They BOTH have spent the last 18 years making sure that your life was happy and healthy.

NOTHING HAS CHANGED.

If you let this revelation affect your relationship, then you are a fool, little girl. Instead of freaking out over it and writing to the internet lady, why the hell don't you TALK to your mother? You know. Sit down at the kitchen table or on the couch and start by saying, "Holy crap, Mom! I had no idea!"

2. Another letter from a kid. Well it stands to reason, what with the Mother's Day theme and all.

You just graduated with an undergrad degree. Congratulations. You are also aware that it has little to no value in the marketplace (political science and history - nothing good there right now) so you want to go to graduate school. Congratulations again.

Your mother's cancer IS going to complicate your life for the foreseeable future, so

SHADDAP!

...for a minute and listen.

I can tell you all kinds of stuff here. Like Washington is NOT the only place to get a graduate degree, no matter what your political ambitions are. In fact... there are no doubt schools much closer to home that will serve you as well. It's the PERSON that gets hired, not the degree. If you want to go to school, then consider that.

You can take a year off, live at home, and get a part-time job. The academic world will not cease to rotate if you do that. In fact, some universities will allow your acceptance to remain valid so you can go the following year. It's a way to stay close.

Your mother's cancer IS very serious. Metastatic breast cancer is deadly. The fact that it's in her bones is not a good sign at all. You say in your letter that she will have to have chemotherapy for the rest of her life, and you need to know that her life may not be that long. Survival rates are virtually nil for this kind of cancer, and it can (though not necessarily) kill very quickly.

You need to TALK to your mother. It sounds like you haven't bothered doing that - in fact, all you say about her is "...deep down I think she really would like me to be close to home."

Did you ASK her flat out if that's what she wants? Some parents would rather their kids never saw them suffer and would prefer it if you went on with your life. Others would sooner have their kids close. You're an adult now, and now's the time to act like one. You aren't some little kid to just coast along - you have decisions to make and they are based on her life right now. What do YOU want?

Your mother is a grown-up human being. She is NOT her cancer and she is NOT just a diagnosis. This is the same woman who gave you hell for being out too late and forbade you to date the 30 year old guy whose wife "didn't understand him" when you were 15. She isn't going to break. TALK TO HER.

3. Ok. This is truly a fucked up mess. Seriously. How the hell do people let things get to this point before they actually do something about it?

Right. You know your mother is one truly fucked up, miserable specimen of a parent who probably should never have been permitted to reproduce in the first place, right? You knew that.... so....

SHADDAP!

Your question is what to do about your sister, and the answer to that one is easy. You jammed out on cleaning your mother's apartment after you said you would help, you sister is pissed at you and she has every right to be. Apologize, tell her WHY you jammed out, and let her decide what to do. You're both adults, so get a grip.

As to your fucked up, miserable specimen of a female parent... you have every right to resent her. I see some people over on Slate that are willing to make excuses for her. They seem to think that she's just a poor, mentally ill darling that needs to be taken care of. I guess they subscribe to the fantasy that anyone past the age of sixty automatically deserves different treatment than the rest of the world.

I am not of that school of thought. AT ALL. I'm here to tell you that your mother is nothing more than a lazy bitch who is taking advantage of you like a leech takes advantage of any mammal foolish enough to walk through the water. So there. I don't see her any differently than I see a forty-year-old kid that squats in Mommy and Daddy's basement, paying no rent and living on Cheetos and video games, sucking up his parents' pensions because he/she is too fucking lazy to get up off his/her ass and work.

I'm going to give you the same advice I'd give those parents.

You need to cut off the money train as soon as possible. You don't owe this idiotic woman a single thing. You did everything you could to get her off her ass and I have no doubt that all the counseling and medical bills came right out of yours and your sisters' pockets. YOU ARE DONE. This woman is not mentally ill, she's a lazy bitch who has a good deal going. She's got you and your sister on a string and she's going to take advantage of that until she dies.

Remember this. Your mother CHOSE to stop working at an age when most people are at least 15 years from retirement. She CHOSE to live on money that was no doubt meant to take care of her in her old age. 50 to 61 IS NOT OLD AGE. Now she has you and your sister somehow convinced that you owe her a living? What the fuck is that? It's pretty ballsy on her part, don't you think?

Tell your sister AND your mother that you just don't have enough money to support another person right now. Let them know that you will honor the agreement you made, but you'll have to cut it off after six months or a year. THEN.... tell your mother that you're going to give her share of the rent directly to her friend/landlord. Her reaction to that will tell you just how much she's sucked you into overpaying, right? Because you ARE overpaying. This isn't just about rent.

I know this hurts, but consider this. NORMAL parents want their kids to succeed and would NEVER demand that their kids support them. Good parents want their kids to be happy, successful adults, not ATMs with feet.

4. You're just sooooooooooo special, aren't you, you psycho-bitch-demon-mom? Just what the hell did you do to your girls? I'm surprised that you didn't force them to shave their heads and wear ankle-length calico dresses for their entire lives - because it wouldn't be fair for them to, say, have friends or normal social lives, right?

SHADDAP!

I was with you when you told Prudie that you tried to raise the kids to be unprejudiced and not to hassle other kids at school. Most parents try and do that. Very few would actually want their kid to be a bully or even a big meanie. Fair enough.

Your girls are doing all right. They're a couple of reasonably attractive (I'm guessing), well socialized kids who are nice to others (for the most part) and therefore have friends and acquaintances that like them.

Here's where you lost me:

"I resent popularity and have rallied against it both at work and when I was in school."

What the fuck is that? What did you do? Sit in a corner and pout? Put up signs that said things like "Popular people have cooties"? Try and convince the Chess Club to arm themselves and clobber anyone who cracked a smile during the day? Run around your office telling everyone that so-and-so shouldn't be promoted because everyone likes them? Quit your job in protest because one of your colleagues got invited to all the fun parties?

I really would like to know the answers to those. Dipshit.

SHADDAP! Again, dammit!

Yes. Your kids engaged in standard kid-like assholery when they were snickering about the kids they decided were "weird" . I get that. You found out that someone had rejected a friendly gesture by one of the kids and that was the reason for the nastyish hilarity and you no doubt over-reacted.

What you SHOULD have said is that not everyone is going to adore them all of the time, and that some people just don't want to be their buddy. There's nothing wrong with that. All people do not automatically like each other. I'm guessing that your kids are pretty nice and that being rejected like that stung a bit. That's no reason to behave badly, though.

That's beside the point, though, right? You resent your kids because they aren't the social cripples that you were at that age and are now. They get along with people because that's what YOU TAUGHT THEM to do. You don't get to crap on them now because of it.

Moron. Send them to boarding school NOW. Hopefully they'll unlearn your paranoia and the distance will keep them from outright hating you until they're old enough that they don't have to live with you any more.

_________________________________________________

Oh, and the picture... It's a barn door. Get it? It's a closed barn door! And the barn is empty! *snicker* I kill me!

SHADDAP!

(Photograph copyright 2010, all rights reserved.)

The sun is shining, the birds are chirping and all's right with the world. I even found a pair of pants that not only fit, they look GOOD. Amazing. I'm sure a lot of people (ok, mostly women) loathe the trouser-shopping ritual as much as I do. There is hope, though! I'm living proof that once in a while, when the stars align, you will find Them. The Perfect Trousers. And when you do.....please buy more than one, 'kay?

We're taking off on vacation this weekend, but I'll be checking in from time to time, so if you think I'm (as Tonto puts it) fulla crap, feel free to let'er rip.

You can find the letters here .

1. Oooh....this letter is candy to all of us, isn't it? I know a lot of people would like to think it's fake, but I doubt very much it is? "Why Messy", you ask, "How is this possible? Are recent college grads that mean and ugly?"

Oh, yes they are, kids. Watch and learn.

_________________________________________

Aren't you the specialist special ickle baby-girl! And don't you just deserve a pat on the noggin for being oh-so-very-clever! (That? Oh...just a mallet...No, it's just a rubber mallet, I swear! I was going to use it to....straighten out that picture, yeah, that's it, the picture!)

So you've been out of college for a grand total of a year and you know it ALL. Glad to hear it. Everyone should have a "great job doing promotions" at your age....wait a minute....does that mean that you're the nearly naked chickie that drapes herself over the raffle prizes at seedy shopping malls in the suburbs, trying to sell tickets for the station's pet charity? That was YOU? That was a ROTTEN thing you did to that oversized teddy bear!

Oh, and honey, think "wax", not "shave". Stubble collects, let's just say lint and leave it at that, shall we?

So. You know every aspect of the business and you found out some hot news that might even be a ..... scoop! Yes, that's the word. No really. It is. That big book in the corner is called a "dictionary". Use it. Maybe one of your little friends can help you with it.

SHADDAP!

So let's address your concerns, shall we? To start. The morning show host is not your "colleague". Nor is she a "co-worker". In fact, she's so far above you on the totem pole that if she notices you personally at all, it's not necessarily a good thing. Sort of like attracting the attention of Zeus, as many maidens discovered around the same time they discovered that the good old Olympian had a thing for human-flesh and making babies with them, then dumping them back in their villages.

Let's dismiss that then. You are the front-door mat under her feet. You are unworthy of being her door mat. You are the broom that sweeps the door mat under her feet. You are the dust pan that.... Got it?

Oh, but wait! She's OLD. Damn, what a revelation! Why, she's all of 30-something and she DARES to talk to college students! How could she! That should be a hanging offense! Something Should Be Done.

So, you started your little buddies on the playground chattering about her ancientness and You Made A Decision. Gag gifts at the birthday lunch! How perfect! She invites you to a lunch as an act of kindness, because she KNOWS you lot don't make enough money to foot the bill at Rotten Ronnie's, and you'll get to bitch-slap her around about her AGE!

Then everyone will KNOW HER SECRET and you'll get her job and be rich and famous and get those implants you always wanted and buy all of your friends big presents and take over their lives and never have to work for someone else again and you'll get all the hot guys and everyone will simultaneously worship you and be jealous of you and you can make them believe all the lies you tell because you're just so perfect and anyway you can give them money to shut up about it....... (*Smack* Messy, you gotta chill, woman. I know you're reading Kitty Kelley's "Oprah" right now, but this chickie isn't as smart as Oprah is, and that's going some...)

Aren't you all just so.... special?

SHADDAP! again.

Do you really believe, you vapid slut, that your bosses, don't know this woman's age? Really? They write her checks, you idiot! They have her Social Security Number. They HIRED her for the job. Better yet, she worked hard and EARNED that job! Believe me, infant-bimbo, her (and your) bosses know her age. They don't care, because she's wonderful at her job, which INCLUDES appearances at bars and college campuses.

Oh, and they NEED her. You are just a piece of Lego. A dime a dozen.

What do you think will happen at that birthday lunch? Do you think that you and all of your friends will ante in with your tacky, juvenile gag gifts and she'll just burst into tears and run away, apologizing for daring to deceive YOU - the titty-draped-over-the-Ford-Escort girl? Really, truly?

SHADDAP! yet again.

I'll tell you exactly what will happen. You little morons from whatever the lowest rung on the ladder is will come out with your stupid "gifts" and laugh your little heads off. She'll leave all right. And when you and the morons that listened to you go back to the office, your crap will be piled at the door, and you'll find that suddenly your office looks just like the hallway in the photo does above.

That's right, sugar. Closed doors. Many, many closed doors. And YOUR hallway will stretch as far as the radio and television industries go, because if you think you'll get another job like the one you have now, you are sadly deluded, little girl.

So go ahead. Knock yourself out. It's going to happen sooner or later, so why not now? Maybe you'll still be able to hook up with that football player you dumped for your big media career and convince him to marry you while he takes over his dad's hot dog stand over at the Little League diamond .....

2. Ok. I've seen the aftermath of three really horrendous, gory traffic accidents. That all by itself is upsetting. I had bad dreams for weeks after the last one, and that image is never going to leave me. Seeing human bodies tossed around like dolls and dumped into virtually unrecognizable heaps is nothing I would recommend to anyone, no matter how tough they think they are.

I wasn't on the spot, though, and you were. You got a front row seat to the whole godawful mess ON TOP of having to deal with the aftermath. I wish it weren't so. No one needs that imprinted on their eyelids.

I'm sure you know that this wasn't your fault. Let me repeat....NOTHING you could have done would have stopped this person from dying of stupid. THAT was the real cause of death, and I wish they'd put it into obituaries and on headstones. That girl had the terminal stupids and even if she had avoided the accident she died in, there would have been another with the same results at a later date.

That's a large part of your problem, but the part you dwell on is the asshole that blamed you for driving "too slow". You know that's bullshit, right? There was nothing you could have done. Not without risking someone else's neck - probably your own. Next time you think of this, close your eyes, look that asshole in the face and yell,

SHADDAP!

Then, get yourself to your therapist, tell him/her that whatever it is that you're doing once a week is not helping. Ask for a referral to someone that specializes in PTSD. Because that's what's going on with you. It's nothing to be ashamed of, and you CAN get past it. If the therapist recommends some medication, take it. It'll help you finish processing this mess and get past it once and for all.

Make no mistake. You'll never forget what happened. You WILL learn how to put it in it's place - the past - and stop blaming yourself for something you could never have controlled in a million years.

3. Are you related to LW #1? Because I'm hearing echoes of some truly ugly nastiness, here. To recap... you caught your boyfriend's buddy's baby sister and one of your boyfriend's college buddies screwing like crazed weasels on your sofa and making a lot of noise about it after a night of drunken revelry.

That got it?

Then you made disapproving noises, the guy apologized and that should have been the end of your obsession...but no. YOU want revenge! By Gawd, you aren't going to be happy unless someone bleeds for you and you have the perfect plan.....

SHADDAP!

Bitch.

See, and here's the other part of your plan. YOU want to make sure that the girl's big brother - that would be your boyfriend's buddy, all of his friends and all of his family to KNOW that the little sister is a goddamned rotten slut that probably (although you really couldn't tell what with the godawful plaid couch) dripped nasty body fluids all over YOUR precious sofa!

Yeah....that'll show that little skank what's what.

SHADDAP! again.....

Now think hard. I know it's a strain, but try. What do you think will happen if you do this? Let's see...

a) Yes. You WILL humiliate the girl. Which will ...

b) Piss off her brother, all of his friends AND their entire family mightily, so ...

c) THEY will go to your boyfriend with evidence of your psychobitch ways, and ...

d) Your boyfriend, having been thoroughly embarrassed by your behavior himself will...

e) Kick your vindictive ass out of his life so hard you'll be back in your childhood bedroom so fast the you won't even have time to register you're there until your suitcase hits you on the head.

Now, as I said above, think hard sugar. Is sofa-defilement worth all the shit that's going to rain down on your head if you're too stupid to hold back your psychobitch impulses? Are you the kind that gets splashed by a bus and demands the head of the driver on a barbecue platter with some greens and a nice mustard sauce?

I know you'll do it. And there WILL be one positive outcome. You'll be out of your boyfriend's life and he can go find himself a woman instead of a vindictive, rat-faced bitch.

4. You're bored by your husband's hobbies. You even go so far as to ask "(i)s caring about him sufficient reason to just suck it up and feign interest?"

SHADDAP!

YES.

And the fact that you feel the need to ask that question in the first place tells me that you don't love the poor man in the least.

Moron.

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