December 21, 2007
Periodically, as their busy spa and Hyde 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 is a mother of three who is currently working on a doctorate in banging her head against the wall, is penning a new Young Adult book called Sperm Hates You, and has developed a sudden passion for the Siberian real-estate market.
Dear Aunt Fugly,
I hate the holidays. They are so stressful. I feel like I have a million things to do and no time to get it all done. This year, the real problem is my husband. He expects me to buy all the gifts for his family as well as my own and I barely know them, Aunt Fugly -- we just eloped six weeks ago! I haven't even met his mom. How am I supposed to know what to buy her? Why is he being so ANNOYING? What should I do?
Dear Mrs. Grinch,
That's a tough situation. My daughter is really busy, so she always buys us gift cards, like the year we all got a $20 credit at KFC, or the time she sent me a coupon for 2-for-1 sirloin at the local market. So try that. Especially if his family is as DUMB as my daughter is.
I can't believe your husband put you in this position. Men ARE real pills, aren't they? They're ALL about jamming us into positions we don't really want to be in. Or, they're all sweetness and peaches and Christmas cheer, and then one day you find out they're burning their yule log in your daughter's pants, at which point they turn quiet and surly and start calling you "Ma'am," and suddenly your publisher wants you to stop writing about parenting and unfortunately the only other thing you know enough about for a whole book would be, like, The Encyclopedia of Unexpected Smells, or How To Swallow Your Swelling Ball of Face-Enflaming Rage And Refrain From Disowning Your Child. I mean, seriously. They're all scum. And since your husband sounds like that kind of asshat -- trust me, I know 'em when I see 'em -- maybe give HIM a surprise vasectomy and call it a GIFT FROM SOCIETY. Right!? YES.
Dear Aunt Fugly,
I have a problem with my ex-wife. I'm still in love with her and I think she's still in love with me. We have two beautiful kids.The problem is that she keeps marrying other dudes! And not like brain surgeons or professors or something. Like LOSER DUDES. Who are sort of like ME, but LAMER and less successful and grosser. This most recent loser was even in a sex tape --like me! -- but with PARIS HILTON, which I think we can all agree is not nearly as awesome as making a sex tape in which you drive a boat with your wang. Right? I mean, I'm right, right? Look, Aunt Fugly, my ex and I have had a LOT of problems (a lot; I might have given her the Hep, for example). But she's awesome and I miss her rack and want her back. How can I convince her to divorce this guy and come back to MY sex swing?
Dear Mr. Tee (HAHAHA, see what I did there? Oh, God, now I sound like my DAUGHTER, I need a drink),
Have you ever considered that maybe it's your fault? That maybe she keeps getting married to random-seeming people, and making bad decisions, and getting drunk, and running off to Vegas, because you are MAKING HER INSANE and she's just disturbed in the head and needs a little PROPER love and guidance and support and a bath?
Wait, I'm sorry. I can't push blame on anyone. I can't be a blame-pusher. Nothing is anyone's fault. [DO YOU HEAR ME? NOTHING IS ANYONE'S FAULT, YOU HEARTLESS BLAME-PUSHERS.] Maybe you should sit down and write her a sensitive letter or a song. Lay down some mad-awesome trippin' love-beats, as my son-in-law says, all about how magical she and her chest are. Call it something like "Rack of Hearts." But don't put any stupid made-up-sounding words in it. Girls hate that. Trust me; one time I had to listen to a two-week argument about that, which ended in a certain person screaming, "OH YEAH, WELL, THERE'S A REASON 'POPOZAO' RHYMES WITH 'SHUT YOUR CHEETOHOLE, YOU DUMB COW.'" You do not want your song to end that way.
Or, just knock her up. APPARENTLY THAT WORKS TOO. GOD.
Dear Aunt Fugly,
Listen, I am seriously having a problem. I am dating this guy who is like really famous in Texas, which is where I grew up. Let's say he's the most famous guy on the Dallas Curling Team, okay? And people are REALLY INTO Curling around here, okay? Like REALLY INTO IT. Anyway, I went to one of his curling matches and it's like all of a sudden he could not curl AT ALL. He was like the WORST CURLER EVER all of a sudden. But instead of being like, WHY CAN'T TONY CURL ANYMORE? all the papers are blaming ME for him being all sucky all of a sudden! Like I am the REASON he's a cruddy curler now or something. Aunt Fugly, I have done a lot of stupid things in my life, but I am not MAGICAL. I can't change people's CURLING SKILLS. It's SO UNFAIR. I got BOOED at the Sonic yesterday. I can't live like this anymore, okay? I need to be able to get onion rings in peace. And I really like this guy! I've had really bad luck with men since....a while. What should I do?
Jes -- er, I mean, "OJ" Simpson
Well, I can certainly understand your pain, honey. We all know at least ONE person in life who suddenly sucks at things they used to be good at, like curling, or bathing, or singing, or basic speech. Am I right? Haven't we all been there, when suddenly someone you love is not performing the way you expected them to, and it makes you really freaking mad at them but you have to bite your tongue and love them anyway because otherwise you might never see your grandchildren again? Are you WITH ME? Who among us HASN'T taken the blame for stuff that is NOT OUR FAULT, like, what are we supposed to do, STAND OVER THE BED and STRAP THE CONDOM ON FOR THEM OURSELVES?!?!?! WE ARE ONLY HUMAN AND THERE IS ONLY SO MUCH WE CAN DO TO STOP SOMEONE ELSE FROM BEING A COMPLETE GODDAMN MORON. So you know what you should do? JUST GIVE UP. Seriously. It's over. You tried. People suck. Disappear somewhere nobody will ever find you, where they don't have gossip magazines or Nickelodeon or HAIR EXTENSIONS or any of that goddamn stuff. I'm so tired. Please make it stop.