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November 24, 2006

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 calls himself Peggy Post With A Penis, priding himself on his encyclopedic knowledge of etiquette, the history of social behaviors, his posture, and his immaculate sense of personal hygiene.

Dear Aunt Fugly,

I'm at a loss. I hosted Thanksgiving for my in-laws, and when we asked if they wanted any leftovers to take home, my mother-in-law said yes... and then took everything. The turkey carcass, the mashed potatoes, the stuffing, even the leftover pies. She packed it all up in shopping bags and sailed out the door promising to bring the dishes back washed. I was shocked! We cooked the meal, paid for everything, and then didn't get to have any of it the next day. Worse, my husband doesn't understand why I'm so annoyed and thinks I'm overreacting and being selfish. And that's why he really wasn't impressed when he had to come bail me out because I TP'd my mother-in-law's front lawn that night and got booked by the Beverly Hills PD. But seriously... she deserved it, right? What should I do? Who's right?


My Turkey Done Left Me

Yo, Turkey,

Sounds like you GOT PLAYED, Playa.  Some people might call your mother-in-law a freeloader, but I call her a hero.  Is she single? Tell that bitch to hit me up: 1-800-FOR-KFED.  I will be all over her popozao.

But tell your husband to shut his damn mouth: chicks with records are hot, and you sound feisty. Maybe you and your mother-in-law and me can all get together sometime, if you know what I mean. You know, just the three of us and some PBR, chilling at my studio in Van Nuys. The dude next door has a hot tub. We can totally hop the fence.  It'll be SWEET. Blow up my cellie, girl! Holla!

Dear Aunt Fugly,

So... God, I'm nervous even writing this. Okay. Deep breath. See, I am a newlywed. And we're having our first Thanksgiving together. And his... traditions... are a tiny bit different than mine. For one thing, he doesn't want to have it on Thanksgiving because he thinks that's not what the Pilgrims would want, and whenever I try to explain that having Thanksgiving on Thanksgiving is kind of the whole POINT, he tells me that I haven't done my research and that he has and I should just let him handle things because he's a pilgrim expert. Also, believes that if we just leave the turkey on the counter overnight, Xe --  uh, I mean, some kind of cosmic force that he thinks is all-powerful -- will stuff it with good fortune. But I always thought it was sort of unhygenic to do that. He then wants us put on robes, rub our daughter with truffle oil, and read aloud passages from Battlefield Earth, because he says it's some kind of special auditing ceremony for babies who can't speak yet to confess their sins. Also, I like to say grace before we eat, but he likes to stand on his chair and throw his arms up to the sky and shout, "PURGE OUR THETANS, O GREAT ONE!" And then he starts laughing and clapping. Which, let's be honest, kind of weirded out my parents the last time so I told them it wouldn't happen again, but I'm not actually sure I can stop it. So I guess what I'm asking is, how the Hell did I get here, and yes, HUSBAND, I did say "Hell," because six months of your stupid free classes is nothing compared to a lifetime of being Catholic and I STILL BELIEVE IN MY OWN THING AND THERE'S NOTHING YOU CAN DO ABOUT THAT OWWWWWWWWWWWWW I think the chip he put in my brain just zapped me. What was I saying? Oh yes -- have you ever taken a Personality Test?


Everything Is Fine And I Am Fine And My Baby Is Fine And We're All Just Fine Here, Thanks!


Bitch, I have no idea what you're even talking about.

Hiiiiiii Aunt Fugly!

Y'all, I am having an AWESOME THANKSGIVING this year! First I lost weight... to be exact, 180 lbs of STANK-ASS HUSBAND! THAT'S RIGHT CAMERON BOY-NAME, you had better LOOK OUT FOR MY ASS NOW! Especially because I totally went and partied in Las Vegas with Paris and danced around in my tights because I don't NEED pants because I'm not KNOCKED UP any more and I'm not ATTACHED any more and I have all this money and all I want to do is smoke and drink and NEVER LISTEN TO ANY MORE RAP MUSIC EVER. And THEN when I got home my mother totally threw herself at my feet when she saw me and started weeping that she is the most thankful for my brain this year. Y'all she has NEVER said that to me before -- last year she drank all the cooking sherry and then threw the bottle AT my brain and, like, I'm not sure what she was talking about exactly . Something to do with peas, maybe? But she knows I don't eat green vegetables, like, HI, they're the color of GRASS, which my ex husband REALLY LIKED TO SMOKE IN MY HOUSE EVEN WHEN I TOLD HIM NOT TO, so she should know better than to think I would eat anything that color. Maybe she was just sad we're at war. But not this year! We ate like KINGS and my ex ate at DENNY'S and I hope they SPAT IN HIS CRANBERRY SAUCE... which I totally did last year (sssshhhhh, don't tell).

So I guess what I'm asking is: Don't you think my ex should SUCK ON IT? And aren't you glad I'm back? And do you know any guys? Hot ones? Who sing and dance? And were the lead in a boy band? And have ugly manly girlfriends I can SNAP LIKE A TWIG?




I strongly suggest you check yourself before you wreck yourself. Maybe your ex has a KILLER PLAN to make YOU suck it. No one breaks up with K Fed over text message, especially when you KNOW I can't READ real good. Damn. That was harsh, yo.  I'm writing a slow jam about it right now. It's called "You Have a Text Message from CheetoLover21" and it is a total panty-dropper.  But not YOUR panties.  You can leave those suckers on, beeyotch, because K Fed isn't interested anymore. YEAH!

And you can tell your MOM to stop calling me and laughing and then hanging up. I KNOW it's her, dude. God. It totally ruins my buzz, like, EVERY TIME.

So,  in conclusion: BITE ME, and I want the weed I left under that rock by the pool filter back within the next three days or I'm calling Child Protection Services and telling them that you don't recycle bottles OR CANS. Good luck with the custody battle when they find THAT out! YEAH THAT'S RIGHT. I'm playing with fire! Federline is on the OFFENSIVE.


Posted by H & J at 09:20 AM in Ask Aunt Fugly | Permalink


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