Sometimes a gal has man trouble. From the moment Adam drove Eve off her diet (thereby condemning mankind) through that night Lorena Bobbit Bobbited hubby John's wee donnie doblin (causing every man in the Western hemisphere to sleep on his stomach for a month). Face it girls; occasionally dudes make you behave in a most unladylike manner. In fact, several of you have prompted us to write. We Know. Sometimes we just care too much.
Dear Keri Heath,
We worry about gals whose names end with an "i" as they seem unfairly predisposed to become pole dancers or Bennigan's hostesses. But apparently you'd avoided both fates and were coasting through life with your cutesy name until your boyfriend Joseph Strasburg did something you found irksome. So you created a fake ad on Craigslist using naughty pics of Joe (featuring his excitable pants worm), soliciting nasty men to call him at work to engage in rude conversation. After fielding a couple odd phone calls, Joe put two and two together. Your hilarious prank hardly seems worth it. You're facing felony charges (a giant step closer to a career on the pole) and word has it Joe has met someone who's naughty whispered insinuations turn his crank in ways you couldn't imagine. Oh and a note to guys everywhere: sending phone pics of your shame hose via text message will never have a positive outcome, because all roads lead to craigslist. That is all.
Dear Tracey Davies,
We read with interest the story in the Daily Mail about how you were feeling sulky when you whined to your lucky beau (the forlorn Mr. Mark Coghill, whom you'd met on a singles site) that he never kissed you anymore. When he tried to mollify you by slipping his tongue into your perty cakehole, you started acting a tad bite-y. Specifically, you chomped down on his tongue and bit a third of it off before spitting it out on the carpet. This strikes us as rather unwise, Ms. Davies. For not only have you now been convicted of causing grievous bodily harm, but you've also been dubbed "Tongue Chomp Woman" by the tabs, a nickname we suspect drastically reduces your chances of any man putting anything he values anywhere near your mouth. Ever.
Dear Betty-Jo Leonardson,
Sometimes a gal gets a hankering for a lil' hippity-dippity. And Lord knows we don't judge, because who hasn't exercised questionable judgment at the hands of an active libido and a shot or ten of tequila? But there are lines we don't cross. One of them is humping a homeless grandpa. In public. Next to a playground. In broad daylight. We must admit, however, that your naughty escapades likely provided the lil' tykes frolicking nearby with an invaluable lesson in sex education. And they are likely to remain celibate until their thirties or until they've taken enough Xanax that the mental image of your spread-eagled hobo humping seems like a John Waters movie.
Dear Khamisa Sawadi,
What a filthy old broad you are. So the morals in Saudi Arabia have decayed to the point where a 75-year-old widow is discovered in a room with her 24-year-old nephew and his pal? Sure, you had asked your nephew to bring you some bread, and tantalized by the thought of saucily co-mingling with his ancient breadless auntie was simply too much temptation to resist. You slut. When you are dragged out to the public square and your sentence of 40 lashes is carried out before a crowd of totally moral Saudi subjects, do have the decency not to nap off. You are a succubus from hell, and when your bread-handling nephew is given his public flogging, the lesson will be learned: hungry old widowed aunties are a bunch of disgusting whores. Because as every Saudi knows, Allah only wants sex to occur between a man and one of the twenty-seven twelve-year old wives for whom he traded a goat.
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