Oh, Delia!

I step out around this town more times than I’d care to face up to, and sometimes I can’t believe what I’m takin’ in through my ocular cavities. I carted myself over to the El Mercadito this morning for my weekly supply of Parliaments and Old Milwaukee and I came across a slow-wit named Gene buyin’ one of them big daddy plastic bottles of vodke with a check. With a check. The girl checkin’ his purchase through was just a-red with the giggles and I had to stifle a few my own self, because what kinda turbohonkey buys his hooch with a dang ol’ check? At least try to make your purchase look legitimate and throw in a pack of Huggies or a fishin’ pole or somethin’.

I seen this poor half-wit runnin’ around town with Glynda (my half-a-slut sister-in-law) a couple times. I’m ‘fraid to tell he ain’t got any kids, so the only one he’d be buyin’ them Huggies for would be his Ma, who he’s lived with ever since he got back from the first Iraq war labeled “Ain’t Right”. Nope, the vodke’s the only purchase he’d be makin’. Doesn’t fish none, except for compliments from the “town bicycles” and the loose change the strippers drop over at the Purple Viper.

I’d put up my smokes on the bet that them checks he uses has his Ma’s name on ‘em.

An afterthought: Do Huggies come in 3 XL? Pearlie Rose is a three day trip. Oh, well. Ain’t important.

Dear Delia,

Last weekend my sister invited me to a dinner party with a bunch of her stuffy friends and it was a complete disaster. She’s been trying to fix me up with some guy from her office for ages. I didn’t know he was going to be there because she didn’t let me in on this detail until the last minute. I’m no good in social settings. I have anxiety issues so I always drink way too much. I told myself I would just have one drink before hand to loosen up a bit but by the time the guests started arriving I was fit-shaced. LOL. I don’t remember much of what happened except that I rocked my “date’s” world. I think. All I know for sure is that I woke up in a puddle of my own urine with vomit in my hair. My sister is pissed at me and won’t return my calls. I’ve left her messages at home, work and on her cell. I’ve tried texting her. She won’t answer. It’s not like this is the first time something like this has happened. This isn’t even the most embarrassing thing I’ve ever done. If anything, this is her fault because she should know better. Don’t you agree?  — Elisa in Martinez, CA

All I see is a girl who knows how to have a good time fulfillin’ her obligations and THEN goin’ the extra mile and throwin’ some to the lame her sister wanted to set her up with. Sounds to me like your sister’s the one with the problem. If she don’t wanna admit to her ownself that she’s jealous of your free-wheelin’ lifestyle, it’s best y’all just go your separate ways. Sounds to me like she’s as sexless as a lady whore in a bathhouse and takes it out on fearless females like us. I mean you.

Don’t say “fit-shaced” anymore, sugar. And try to stay near a turlet when you’re drinkin’ your courage.

P.S.: You think she might could unconsciously like the boy she set y’all up with and that’s why she’s actin’ like a cat with a knotted up tail?

I started datin’ this guy that used to hide in the bushes  and take pitchers of me. I would see him everyday and I started gettin’ a crush on him so I walked up to him and batted my eyes like a toad in a hailstorm cuz that’s how I flirt. We struck up a conversation and I quickly realized that this man was my soulmate. He’s so worldly. I think he’s from Africa cuz he likes to eat sushi, a lot. My daddy says I’m ’bout as sharp as a cue ball, whatever that means. I just know he wasn’t too happy ’bout my new boyfriend. For a few months we were unseperatable. We went everywhere together. He taught me so much. He taught me how restrictin’ takin’ a bath and wearin’ underwear is. He was such a gentleman too. Everywhere we went he would jump outta the car and run around to open my door and take pitchers of me gettin’ out. He could NOT get enough pitchers of me. And he said lots of sweet words in his cute little accent. It sounds  Englishy like the Beatles. Do they speak British in Africa? Anyways,  one night when I was three sheets to the wind or whatever he talked me into makin’ a tape with us havin’ intimations on it. I didn’t see any harm in it cuz he was my soulmate and we we’re gonna spend the rest of my life together. When I woke up the next mornin’ he was gone and I didn’t hear from him again ’til he started tryin’ to sell the tape. Why would he do this to me? I gave him the best four and half months of my life. — “Chanelle” from New York City

*Not my real name and that ain’t where I live for reals

Cut the shit, Amanda Jean. Lee told you a million times he’s from Kansas just like the rest of us. You know good and damn well that tape’s in the custody of the sherriff’s department since y’all lied to my boy about bein’ 18. Have you even gone to see him since they took him away flailin’ and hollerin’ outta the Pucker Palace? No. Nobody cares about my boy. My sweet boy.

He’s a good boy.

P.S.: You know as well as I do nobody in his right mind would buy that tape anyhow ’cause nobody wants to see a man weepin’ about his malfunctioning dingus while his relations partner picks her feet and rolls her eyes.

Dear Delia,

I met a man online and at first I thought he was a nice, normal man. We chatted online for about an hour every evening and eventually started calling each other. One night he asked me if I own a web-cam. I didn’t so I asked my daughter if she could help me set one up. She came over one evening and installed it and showed me how to use it. I was excited to see what he looked like but also a tad nervous that he might be ugly. I know it’s shallow but I’m just telling it like it is. He’s not the greatest looking guy but he’s no Quasimodo either. Anyway, we did the web-cam thing for a few nights and then he started getting weird. First, he asked to see the shoes I wore that day. I thought it was a tad strange but I didn’t give it a second thought. A few nights passed and he asked me if I would take my socks off and mail them to him. When I refused he asked if I would take pictures of my feet and send them. When I told my daughter about it she was disgusted. She thinks I should end the relationship ASAP. I’m not so sure I want to. He’s a very nice man who just happens to have a foot fetish. If he were asking for pictures of my boobs would it be so odd? What’s your take on the situation? I’m no spring chicken. Men aren’t exactly beatin’ my door down for a date. — Nameless

Well now see that’s a tough pickle you got yourself into. Seems to me like feet is pretty low on the pervert totem pole. Just as long as he ain’t wantin’ you to step in anything disgustin’ on camera or say things of a sexual nature while you’re stickin’ your piggies into some cream cheese or somesuch, I don’t think there’d be any harm to it at all. And if he wants your dirty socks, well hell, sis. That’s just one less pair for you to wash. And hell, it give me the chance to live vicariously through ya, ’cause I always wanted to dirty somethin’ up and discard it. I got secrets.

…But you know they say feet is a gateway fetish. Today he might be wantin’ you to show him your tootsies and want to sniff your discards a little, but tomorrow he might want you to tickle his ballbag while watching Auntie Mame. You just don’t know what it might be.

I say do what he’s askin’, but high tail it outta there the minute he starts requestin’ things that would make you feel like such a filthy girl that no amount of scrubbin’ would wash off the shame.

I met this girl Anna about a year ago. We became friends and I know she wants more but I just don’t feel that way about her. A while back she got a new job near my apartment building and I let her move in with me until she can find her own place. Huge mistake! She immediately began acting like my wife. If wives act deranged, that is. She comes in my room at all hours just to ask me ridiculous questions like where I keep the mustard. She’s really just checking to see if I’m IM’ing or talking on the phone. If I happen to be doing either of these things she annoys the piss outta me until I tell her who I’m talking to and what we’re talking about. I had to delete my myspace account because she wouldn’t stay out of it. She had a mental meltdown on more than one occasion because she wasn’t my #1 friend.

What the F, Delia? A 20 year old woman should not behave this way. When I try to talk to her about her childish behavior she gets defensive. She says “I’m sorry my personality isn’t up to your standards” and storms off to her room and slams the door. Hard. We’ve had complaints from neighbors about her tantrums. I’m just going to come out and tell you that we have sex regularly. One night we were eating dinner and out of the blue she says “If I wanted to get back at you, do you know how I’d do it?” I said “Um no. How?” She says “I’d go to the cops and tell them you raped me and that I’ve been too afraid to come forward until now.” Again, WHAT THE F? Get back at me for what? Giving her a place to live? Putting up with her bullshit night and day? How can I get out of this mess without her killing me? She’s a real loon. — Micah in Los Angeles

I say stop your carnal relations with this girl, abruptly and without an explanation. Also, bring other girls to your apartment often. When she sees you’re movin’ on with your life, she’s bound to straighten up, fly right and start treatin’ you right. I hope to receive news of your progress.

Dear Delia,

How many dates does it take before letting a new person in your life know that you’re a freak in the sheets? We’re on our sixth date and we’ve had sex 3 times. Is it too soon? — D

If I see what you writ there correctly, you say you had relations with this boy (it is a boy, innit? you didn’t identify your genders at all) three times already and you only been out six times? I was always told you shouldn’t slop the hog ’til it’s in the pen. What I mean to say is, you should only offer the goods up for handlin’ after youse married and there’s no fear of everybody in town callin’ you a Good Time Charlene just because your own three-year-old son was the ring bearer at your weddin’. Um, but I’m gettin’ off track here a little bit. You must be from one of them footloose towns like Topeka where they don’t care how many times you been ’round the block, just as long as you keep goin’ ’round it, if you know what I’m tryin’ to say here. Nobody likes a whore besides the types a fellers you don’t want to hang around with under any circumstances anyhow.

I say quit lettin’ your beau sample the goods until he puts a ring on that finger. Then after that, hell, what do I care what y’all do in the bedroom? You could both dress up like Abraham Lincoln and touch yourselves while reciting the Gettysburg Address. It’s a free country to do as you please so long as it doesn’t offend God, and I think God liked Abe Lincoln just fine so go nuts.

Dear Delia,

I’ve been married to my husband for 6 years. We have three children, ages: 3, 2 and 10 months. The last few years of my life have been spent pregnant and taking care of babies and I’ve neglected to take care of myself. I haven’t lost any of the weight from any of my pregnancies. I’ve been too tired and too busy to exercise. At least that’s the excuse I use. I need to lose over 100 pounds. I avoid looking in the mirror because I’m so disgusted with myself. It doesn’t help matters that my husband told me that he’s physically repulsed by me. He says he can’t stand to have sex with me because I’m so fat he can’t tell my vagina from my fat rolls. He moos at me constantly and makes pig noises when I’m eating. I’ve joined a gym near our home and have been buying healthier foods but when I cook a separate meal for myself, he gets upset and tells me to stop this bullsh*t. He says he loves me the way I am. How can he love me the way I am and be repulsed by me at the same time? He even asked for permission to have sex with other women. I don’t want him sleeping with other women but I don’t want to lose him either. How can I save my marriage?? I’d be lost without him. — Fat & Desperate in AL

F&D,

You don’t need to save your marriage. You need to go upside this pig’s head with a frying pan. Dump this, uh…how does that go? Dump the hero, get with…that ain’t right. How does that damned thing go?

The bottom line is, though, get out of that hellpit you call a marriage before you go crazy and kill your own self or hisself. Course, if you’re willin’ to rid yourself of your burden once and for all, I know a guy. I’m serious as a heart attack. I know a guy who can make it look innocent-like. Like maybe your husband, let’s call ‘em Darryl, accidentally rammed a Pabst bottle down his own throat. It happens. Electronically send me a letter. Wink.

After weeks and weeks of my jaw-flappin’ I come to the realization that none of y’all really know me or how I’m put together. I’d like to change that right now, ’cause I don’t want the people who pour their hearts out to me or read my pithy rejoinders and whatnot to think they wouldn’t know me from Adam outside of this here web box.

1. Have you ever broken the law?
I only smuggled the cocaines because Lee needed braces. And I needed a new Chevy Corvair.

2. What’s your most embarrassing memory?
That would be the time Daddy’s business failed and a couple of the screws in his dome fell out and he ran out into the streets sobbing COONBUGGIES! AHHHHGHHGHGHHHHHH COONBUGGIES! I FAILED YOU! I FAILED!

I guess it woulda been more sad and less shameful if’n he hadn’t done it in front the whole town and God.

3. What’s your favorite childhood memory?
Watchin’ Daddy’s chickens run around with they heads cut off. Chicken dinners was so much fun.

4. How would your friends/co-workers describe you?
Sturdy, with good hips.

5. What games did you play when you were little?
I didn’t have time to play games. I helped my folks run a farm and I became a mother at 17. Unless’n of course 5 minutes in the back of a bread truck with a delivery man that resulted in 17 hours of sphincter-locking burning terror and THEN a baby at the end of all that mess counts as a game.

6. What was your first job?
Pulling a plow at 6.

7. If a genie offered you three wishes, what would they be?
1) Endless supply of Pink Squirrels with the little umbrellas, 2) Maybe be born again as Loni Anderson 3) Beat that stupid pig at the watermelon eating contest at the county fair. I don’t know why they put a pig against a human, you know the pig is gonna win every ding dang time.

8. On a scale of 1 to 10, how happy are you right now?
I don’t think you can measure happiness on a scale, son. Either ya are or ya aren’t, and I think I am.

9. Do you have a sexual fantasy you’d like to share?
If I had sexual fantasies, which I surely can attest I do not, I wouldn’t be a crude libertine saucebox and share ‘em with complete strangers in an electronic-like box.

10. Is there anything you were passionate about when you were younger but you gave up?
Oh, Hell. I don’t know. Passion is a sin. Since 1960 I’m tryin always to keep on the good side of things, therefore I don’t really have passions. Or interests.

11. What’s the stupidest thing you’ve ever done?
Giving that damned bread delivery man a roll in the rye.

12. If money were no object, where would you want to have a second home?
I wouldn’t want a second home ’cause all that means is another place to clean and another place where my family can come and be useless.

13. What would you do if your best friend came on to you?
I would tell her husband and we would take the proper steps to get her cured.

14. Where in the world would you most like to travel?
I’ve always wanted to know where County Road 44012 goes to. Never been that way before. Always go south.

15. What would you do if you won a million dollars? 10 million dollars?
Bury it somewhere in the walls for safekeepin’.

16. If there was one thing you could change about yourself, what would it be?
I don’t think I self deny enough. I could prolly stand to do some more of that.

17. What animal would you like to be and why?
I’d like to be a dachshund ’cause they’re funny lookin’ and close to the ground.

18. If you were stranded somewhere for a long time, which book would you want to have with you?
United We Stand: How We Can Take Back Our Country by Ross Perot, a man whom I’ve always admired.

19. Is there anyone from your past you have a hard time forgiving?
Yes and she knows the wheres and whyfores of that and I see no reason to bring y’all into it.

20. Where do you see yourself 10 years? 20 years?
Probably on senior bus trips to St. Gerard’s biweekly.

21. What’s the number one thing you’d like to improve about yourself?
My eyebrows.

22. What do you think happens after you die?
You feed daisies? Shit, son. I don’t have all the answers. I reckon if my body was personally responsible for springin’ forth daisies, I done somethin’ right. Daisies is so beautiful.

23. What is something you’ve always wanted to try?

Never did learn how to whistle. Might could now.

24. What does your family do that pisses you off?

Makin’ me have to fight the Law for their freedom every God-danged month seems like.

25. What’s your idea of a perfect evening?

A bottle of Cold Duck and a Password marathon.

Delia,

Every time my wife reads some new “Sex Tip” in a magazine, I suffer. I know I should be grateful that I have an adventurous wife, but it’s getting so bad that I want to clothesline the mailman when I see him coming with an armload of magazines. If she’s not putting scrunchies on my member, she’s pestering me with stupid quizzes. Her latest quest is to find my G-Spot. My wife’s — uh — “bedside manner” is seriously lacking. Last night while we were having sex, she just decided to jam her finger in my ass. She didn’t ask me. She didn’t warn me. Nothing, just sex, sex, sex BAM finger in the ass. Then she was hurt because I flipped out on her. She got pissed and said that I probably think I’ll turn gay. It has nothing to do with turning gay. Just warn a guy before you go and ram your Carmela Soprano fingernail up his butt. How can I explain that she needs to be a little more gentle and ask me before she tries new things in a way that she’ll understand? Everything I say is wrong and I’m “afraid of going gay”. — Name Withheld

Son, why would anybody want to go do somethin’ like that? Don’t you think if God wanted you (or Jesus forfend SOMEONE ELSE) to root around in there like a truffle pig he woulda made it a little bit bigger than a freshly sprouted rosebud? Lordy mercy baby got her blue jeans on that’s the most unwell thing I ever heard, and I just got done learnin’ about armpit copulation.

Some things oughta just be for your own self, so you tell her to twiddle around in her own butthole whenever the urge’s got her in the stranglehold.

What happened to the time when the fandangliest thing you’d hafta do during fornication was lie on your back and think of Texas?

Dear Delia,

I came out of the closet to my mother on my 18th birthday. She’s still in denial two years later. I’ve lost count of the number of times she’s tried to set me up with various women. I’ve told her time and time again that I’m not interested in dating women. I’M GAY! It goes in one ear and out the other. She refuses to accept that I’m gay. She thinks she did something wrong to make me the way I am. She’s convinced I just haven’t met the right woman yet. If only I would give so-and-so a chance, I might be able to change. My mother is such an incredible control freak. She can’t stand the fact that there is something she can’t “fix”. Is there anything I can say that will make her realize that this is something she can’t change? — S. in Vallejo, CA

Well now S, that’s somethin’ I can’t rightly know. Tellin’ her you’re of the homasexual persuasion doesn’t seem to be sinkin’ in any. You might could try paradin’ one of your — I don’t know if I got the terminology correct or incorrect — “man girlfriends”  around in front of your mama to show er you wouldn’t know what to do with a woman if ya had a instruction manual and a heterasexual to do the figurin’ for ya. Short of that, I don’t know what to tell ya, sis. Might could be that you’ll just have to put up with her for the rest of her days, less’n she gets a fast-actin’ incurable disease or somesuch. I reckon that ain’t too likely and you’re just gonna have to ride it out.

I’ll ask God to keep an eye on ya…oh, that’s right. He doesn’t like y’all. Sorry.