Hey there shippers! How in the hell are ya on this fine, fine Prudie Day? It’s a strange day here at the Lagoon. The weather is starting to get a little warmer, but the sun is hiding from me, behind the clouds. And though shade is sometimes nice, I suppose, it’s so early in the spring that I really miss it! However as you may know, I’m an optimist. So, here’s hoping that tomorrow is warm and brighter! My weekly weather report aside, though, let’s looks at these letters! What do we have today, eh?
LW#1: Dear Prudie, I’ve got a problem. See, though I like to sound all progressive and enlightened and forward thinking, I’m really just a Neanderthal asswipe fucktard chump, with a Ph.D. vocabulary and a knack for mimicry. In truth, I don’t much care for the thoughts or opinions of the women in my life. They serve a purpose, sure, but as for value? Not so much. And so it is with my wife (function: life support system for a vagina, personal value: zero). We have a baby together, which is okay. And, she cooks really well (my wife). But, like all women, she’s a cheating whore. How do I know? Well, she got HPV and yet claimed she was a virgin when we met. Seeing as she's never had it before this check up, the cause is obvious. And, since I know good and damned well that it wasn’t me, because I’m a fucking bastion of morality and my penis has touched no one but her, ever, I know it’s because she’s a lying whore, and likely balled about 500 men at once, probably over the course of a single day when I wasn’t looking. What should I do? P.S. Oh yeah, for the sake of this letter, let’s pretend that I really trust her and that I’m all torn up about this issue and don’t know who to believe, okay? Listen you fucking unparalleled, inimitable, peerless twattling turd-breath-having mother fucker. You don’t deserve a wife. Go buy yourself a Ronco Pocket Pussy (®2010 SmagBoy Industries) and carry it with you wherever you go. My bet is that you will find that, after a little bit, it’ll have HPV, too, but, holy fuck, don’t let that deter you, mother fucker, throw that piece of shit away and go get another. How hard is it to google ‘HPV transmission’ and glean how many ways this could have happened without your wife cheating? I don’t even have anything more to say to you, you stupid fucking idiot.
LW#2: Dear Prudie, for some reason I haven’t figured out that my betrothed is a materialistic bitch. I mean, I should have figured it out by now. We’ve been going out for four years and I’m totally and completely devoted to her in every way and I want to marry her (after I service her, of course, work eight hours, pick up her dry cleaning, ride the bus home--because she needs the car to tool around town while she's home all day--cook dinner and clean house), but, she says that I’d better not even think of having the engagement talk with her until I’m ready to produce a “sizable” ring. I hate to admit that that requirement bothers me just a little, Prudie. I’d never tell her that, though. I can’t afford a ring right now and though I will be able to soon, I’m just having a hard time with the whole "sizable" ring thing. What should I do? Run! Run like the wind. I’m serious, dude. I’m known for telling people, right up to the very moment of saying “I do”, that if they have any doubts, DON’T.GET.MARRIED! You sent out the invitations? So what! But, you’ve already put a deposit on the catering? Who gives a shit! Dude, I can’t stress to you enough how wrong your “wonderful” girl’s thinking is. If she loves you, a fucking twist tie would do for a ring. A rubber band would do. A bubble gum machine ring would do, and would mean more to her than anything you could possibly buy on soul-crushing credit from a jewelry store. Those feelings you’re having? They’re called red flag warnings. You don’t want to marry someone who’s going to suck the account dry every time you put anything in there, and then complain because it’s empty. Let her take her vacuous, materialistic, selfish, boorish, sorry ass elsewhere and you go find someone with whom your values are more aligned and for whom you don’t feel as if you’re serving with every fiber of your being.
LW#3: Dear Prudie, I’m a successful lawyer, married to a wonderful, supportive man. We have a lovely child together and a happy life. My problem? I don’t want to be a lawyer. I want to be a doctor. However, when I was in school, my mom told me I’d never be one. That I wasn’t good enough or smart enough. That if I didn't listen to her, I'd amount to nothing. My fiancé at the time, too, told me I was incapable of being a doctor. So, I never pursued it, even though I really wanted to. My grades in the few science classes that I took as electives indicated a true aptitude, but, even though I have a loving, supportive family now, I feel like pursuing this course of action would be selfish on my part and hurtful to my family. What should I do? First off, go to a counselor. I'm serious. Your mom put such a fuck job on You that You seem to think that no one else in this world can love You or support You without wanting something in return. Your Bitch of a mom made You see Yourself as a burden and convinced You that others would, too. She was a fucking nut job and You were an innocent child and need help getting past her fuckery. And that’s okay! Your fiancé at the time was just a manifestation of her control. Now that you have people around you who Love You and want to help, you have a hard time believing that doing anything for yourself is allowable or worthwhile. You’ve been programmed to think of others and defer your own wants. Your desire to be a doctor is not unreasonable (it’s simply a desire to be happy). Get the counseling, talk it over with your family (but not your fucking terrible cretinous bitch of a mom), and if it can work out, go for it! You deserve happiness as much as anyone. And far more than a number of assholes out there. And no matter what, you always have your law degree. It’s not like that’ll go away. Good luck! :-)
LW#4: Dear Prudie, I had a party for Oscar night and asked everyone to put in $20 toward an Oscar betting pool. There was a prize for first and second place, and no house cut. Well, my wife and I won the entire thing and now I feel supremely guilty. What should I do? First off, never ask people at a party that you’re hosting to enter a betting pool at your house. They’ll feel obligated and then you’ll feel guilty if you win. Know what I mean? You can tell people ahead of time that you’re having a betting pool and the price and that, if they’re interested, they can buy squares at the party. That’s it. That's all you can do. Then, divide the money collected by the number of sqaures in the pool and go from there). Simple. That solved, let's talk about the issue at hand. How guilty do you feel? A lot? Give the money back. I mean, Jesus, how hard is that? Say it seemed unfair and felt weird and you hope everyone can get together for a dink sometime. Only a little guilty? Just host another party with the same friends, make it a nice one, and call it your “Holy Shit, We Won the Oscar Betting Pool” party! But don’t have a betting pool at that party, okay? Because, buddy, you don’t have the balls for it. And at next year’s Oscar
Well shippers, that’s it! Another wonderful week in the Lagoon. I hope that everyone has headed over to Beckaroo’s Blog to look at her incredible BBQ pics and read about the yummy cooking she did! And, too, all, has anyone seen Bella? fanshawe? Nagatuki? NachtMusik? I miss them! Please come back, guys! That's not a criticism of anyone here! I would miss you all, too, if you went away! This is just an search signal for them is all. :-) Have a wonderful week, Shippers. Fair winds and following seas to you all, and to all, a good night!