http://www.slate.com/id/2260483/ (7/15/2010) <---Original Prudie Letters Can Be Found There
Hey hidey ho, Shippers! How in the hell are ya on this fine, fine Prudie Day? All here is well. I’m writing to you from Heidelberg, Germany, home of so much lovely goodness that I won’t even start to list it (although I’d terribly remiss if I didn’t mention the schnitzel)! But don’t get me wrong! There’s all sorts of lovely goodness in the states, too! I’m not defecting! Not even if they offered me whipped honey butter and their lovely warm brotchen buns! Unfortunately, due to Internet access issues and time constraints, I’m going to have to keep this very brief, but even still, I hope to keep the snark-to-Smag ratio at the proper levels. And so, with that in mind, let’s get crackin’!
LW#1: Dear Prudie. I have the bestest life and the bestest boyfriend in the whole wide world. We have sex one or two times per day, my boyfriend and I, but...I recently found him stroking the schnitzel while watching porn. I confronted him about it and he claimed that it’s just that he likes big boobs and would like for me to get bigger boobs. I’m very proud of my body, Prudie, honest! And I want my daughter to be proud of hers, but...I’m considering getting augmentation to please my boyfriend. What do you think? Signed, I May Have A Nice Body, But I’m Dumb As A Brick
Dear Brick. No, you should not get breasts augmented. Brain augmentation? Yes. Easily manipulatable personality replacement? Yepper! Look, I don’t know why the guy was wanking the kleinewurst, but you can bet that it’s not your lack of boobs. You are in serious, serious, serious trouble if you’re planning on augmenting your body to please the capricious whims of this or any man. But hey, since you seem so eager, how about you come over here and clean my car for me? It’s the only reason I look at new car ads. Honest!
LW#2: Dear Prudie. My husband and I are in our 50s. We live in the same town as his parents, who are in their 80s. That’s freakin’ old, Prudie, in case you’re wondering! They’re nice people, but they insist on coming with us on all of our vacations. I’m talking calling every night begging to go until we acquiesce. It’s terrible! I can’t take it. To make matters worse, my husband’s siblings are all capable, able-bodied people who just happen to live out of town, so, the responsibility of taking care of their folks never falls to them. Always to us. Am I selfish to be pissed about this Prudie? Is it okay to want to go on vacation without the folks? Signed, Tired of Being a Parent to my Husband’s Parents
Dear Parent. Nope, you’re not selfish or rude. But you are being a big ol’ pussy. If you guys don’t want to play vacation tour guides anymore, you need only say that. You can also helpfully point out that the other siblings would be happy to see them. Then, take the parents to the airport and send them to see one set of the other siblings while you take your own vacation. Then rotate siblings each vacation. Every once in awhile, take the parents with you when you go. If they balk at this excellent idea (either the parents or the siblings), just tell them to fuck off. See? Easy!
LW#3: Dear Prudie. I work in social services. I’ve been a recovering bi-polar-holic for ten years now. I tell everyone that I meet about my condition because I’m an honest person, but, a new intern who has way more education than I have, and who intimidates the hell out of me, says nasty things to me when we disagree and then she dismisses my points of view by saying, “Well, you’re bi-polar.” I’m well past allowing such a thing to upset me, Prudie (obviously), but it just might send a non-recovering bi-polar person over the edge into the danger zone of suicide. What should I do about this woman? Signed, Really, Honestly, Truthfully Over My Bi-Polarism
Dear Liar. No, you’re not over your bi-polarism. Worse, you feel the need to tell everyone you meet, even the fucking INTERN, that you are?! What the fuck, over?! You need to reel that shit in, Happy McPeppy! Personal shit like that is for your bestest friends and for your therapist. NOT the intern, or the guy on the buss, or your manicurist. Okay? But, in this case, it’s too late, so, what do you? Next time that little fucking twat says that to you, you need to have an epic fucking meltdown of monumental proportions right there in the office. Just fall on the floor, let the tears flow and agree with her, screaming “Oh my god, I know. I’m so terrible! You’re always telling me how wrong I am, how terrible I am and you’re right! You’re always telling me how stupid I am and how I don’t know anything and how weak and selfish I am for working here and how nobody likes me! And you’re right! You’re riii-iiii-iiii-iiight! Oh please help me, Ms. Intern With The Master’s Degree! Please help me get better!” Then, let snot and drool run all down her back as you hold onto her for dear life in a deep hug. Then, when you sense her getting truly, truly uncomfortable, straighten up, wipe your nose in her hair and say, “Ah, thank you. All better now.” Then walk out of the room and wink at your boss. It’ll be epic.
LW#4: Dear Prudie. My stepbrother died last week. My sister asked me to get flowers from our side of the family. Because I’m a former florist, a master gardener, and, have a kick ass floral garden, I made up an incredible but tasteful arrangement and delivered it to the funeral home. My brother asked me what he owed me and when I said, “Nothing, I made the arrangement myself.”, my sister came unglued, made a scene at the funeral, calling me cheap and tactless, and, has sided with our step-sisters in shunning me (except when they call to tell me what a cheap whore I am). What should I do? Signed, So Not A Cheap Whore
Dear Master Gardner (how does one earn this title?--ah, never mind). I’d block their phone numbers. And, what in the FUCK is the meaning of “our side of the family”. So, like, the step side is one side and the non-step side is another side. And each was obligated to buy a round of flowers? You’re One Big Happy, except when your sister gets her bitch on? Fuck that, fuck your sister, fuck your dumbass step sisters. Fuck ‘em all! Block the numbers and don’t even give it a second thought. Honest. For reals. Life’s too short. I mean, what an appropriate time to learn and embrace that fact, you know?
Well Shippers, that’s it. Good cheer, fair winds and following seas to you all. And to all, a good night! I’ll be coming to you live and in-person next week from my normal perch atop the conning tower. Good cheer!