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September 16, 2005

Periodically, as their busy spa and Spider Club schedules allow, celebrity experts will join us to answer your questions about how to fug up your life as thoroughly as they do theirs. This week's expert has an advanced degree in pharmacology and is studying for an additional masters in legal briefs

Q. Dear Aunt Fugly,

My stepmother always told me never to wear brown and black together. Not ever. But, she also told me never to wear white after Labor Day, never to go out without a bra on, and never to wear a skirt without panty hose. Obviously she's outmoded. Still, every time I consider about pairing my favorite black pants with a new brown top I just bought, I get hives. Help! I don't want to be a prisoner to old rules! Do I still have to follow them? If not, how do I get them out of my head?


What Can Brown Do For You

A.  Dear What Can Brown Too Many Words To Type,

Can you believe they fucking sent me back to rehab, man? That's bullshit. I am NOT ON GOD DAMN DRUGS except for the stuff I have to take for my bad back which is really seriously pretty bad.  Hey, are those Cheetos? I love Cheetos. And Fritos. And Tostitos. God, I seriously can't stop eating. I should go to Wendy's. Yeah, for a Frosty. And one of those square hamburgers they have. Two square hamburgers. Three square hamburgers.

Hang on while I stick my foot over my head for a minute.

Right, your stupid fucking problem. I don't care. Wear whatever you want. Rules are for ASSHOLES.

Q. Dear Aunt Fugly,

What does a girl wear to an annulment? Is Carolina Herrera too much? And, how much time should I wait before contacting my ex? He might be married, but I'm pretty sure that was just a revenge wedding because I married a gay alien and he wasn't happy about it. Maybe I should wear something seductive so I can go right over to his place after I sign the papers? I'm nervous! God, I need a rice grain.

You complete me,

Afraid of Carbs

A. Dear You Had Me At I DON'T CARE,

You know, you people don't have real problems. I have real problems. I'm having Alan Partridge's baby and no I'm not yes I am no I'm not yes I am WHERE IS MY HAMBURGER? I WILL THROW THIS MICROPHONE STAND AT YOUR HEAD. No, I won't. See? It's just a banana. Banana. BANANA! B-A-N-A-N-A-N-A-N-A-N-A-N-A -- that reminds me, I have to call Stefani. Talk about people who can't DRESS. She makes ME look like -- hey, remember when I dressed all classy and shit? Like when I was in that movie with that guy from Cheers. Man, he had the best weed. I should call him except I totally don't remember his name anymore.

I'm going to take a nap now.

Oh, about your stupid fucking annulment like are you aware of the fact that I am a WIDOW? YOU'RE VERY INSENSITIVE. WEAR WHATEVER THE FUCK YOU WANT, BITCH.

Q. Dear Aunt Fugly,

Y'all! I'm a MOM! But listen up, though, because now I have a serious dilemmon. (I just learned that word! This is my first time using it. I hope I did okay! I just read in some book that if you use big words around the house your kids will stay off the crack, or something so I am practicing now so I am good at it by the time the baby is old enough to hear and stuff.)

Okay, so, here's the deal. I just gave birth (it was soooo sweet and loving, y'all -- my husband couldn't even be there because he was so afraid of fainting from love! Isn't he sweet?) and so now my lawyers told me I have to lose 60 lbs in two weeks, but... I looooooooooooooove my maternity clothes! Y'all, do you even KNOW how much they hide? As a test I taped three bags of Ruffles to my bra and walked around the house for an hour and nobody noticed. Although my husband was kind of preoctopied (whee! That was a good one. I totally would have passed those FATs or STAs or whatever that test with all the bubble-thingies was called. I am so lucky I didn’t ever graduate high school) by some papers he was trying to understand. He kept growling and saying something about a "loophole," but I don't understand why, because he doesn't even wear belts!

The trick is, nobody has made it fashionable to wear maternity shirts and pants even when you're not earning interest on his deposit. (Hee! That's what my husband calls it. I don't know why he keeps talking about money all the time but maybe he is looking into becoming a financial analyst or something like that because he told me to fire mine because he wanted to cook the books himself. AND he wanted to name the baby Dead President, but I told him that wouldn't work, ever, because what if he was president? Would he be President Dead President? That's so confusing! And so then he suggested Shut It as a name, I think, but I said a two-letter middle name is bad sheng fui or whatever, so he said, "How about calling it, 'Moooooooo,'" and then I cried a little and told him he was so mean that devil would dry up his swimmers and he'd never have another little baby and he was all, "Good, it's about goddamn time," and so I ran away and sat in the corner and meditated and talked to the red string, and it told me to name my son "Preston," because it's kind of a combination of "Priest" and "Justin," which means he'll be the perfectest little baby ever because he'll be all righteous and pious and stuff, but he'll also love dancing and singing just as much as he loves the Lord. … Hmm, unless the red string said "Presley" and not "Priest"… in which case he would probably love drugs, so I'd better start using more big words in my vocabilory because if my baby ends up addicted to crack or whatever I will be very sad because I don't even think they have a wing at Promises for babies. But maybe he would just love sandwiches, which is okay because everyone loves sandwiches!)

Where was I? Oh yeah -- Gwen Stefani needs to start wearing maternity clothes every day, so that I can too, don't you think. Can you give me that? I can't register for it even though I tried. The lady at the Wal-Mart just laughed at me which I think was really sort of rude. Also, it's hard to breast feed with Doritos taped to your chest. Have you tried? I asked my Mama to come help me but she said she was busy and then I saw that she was cutting up all my credit cards -- I think so that she and Kevin and me and Jamie Lynn can all have a piece to use. That was really injeanis of her, don't you think? I love her even if she did say she was going to take me and the baby and fly us far far away so that Kevin could never find us. I am pretty sure she just meant for a vacation.

Thanks for the advice, Auntie! I love you!

A.Dear Stupid Girl,

I forgot your question.

Okay, enough with the questions. I have to go to my lawyer's office AGAIN to do something about something that I don't remember. All I know is, if this is about how Dave Grohl is all pissed that I burned down the shed in his backyard WHICH I AM PRETTY SURE I DID NOT DO, I am OUT OF THERE.

Posted by H & J at 03:02 PM in Ask Aunt Fugly | Permalink


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