Sincerely yours,
Alexis

Savannah Says:

Your name positions you perfectly for a lifetime of marriages to men of wealth and privilege, do you realize that? You should thank your parents for this every day, as you lounge poolside in Cancun, sipping drinks with little paper umbrellas in them. All parents should be so shrewd in gifting their child with a “power name” like Alexis.

I’m glad to see you’re planning ahead about your pending marriages. Any serious pursuit, such as a career or beauty pageant, deserves an investment of thoughtful advance planning to make it a success. Prep school is not too soon to begin practicing the delicate social arts, the conniving and scheming, that will lead to married bliss in 5- to 7-year increments over your lifetime. Twenty years from now, when you’ve “traded up” for the third time, you’ll be glad you spent some time strategizing as a youngster.

Let’s assume that with a name like “Alexis,” you’re currently engaged to a recent Ivy League graduate whose utter lack of professional credentials, or even intelligence, prove no obstacle to success, as he’s about to enter a full partnership in Uncle Austin’s 150-year-old law firm, complete with a corner office, well-stocked bar, and a staff of assistants and paralegals to do his work for him. What should you expect, as you move through your engagement with this prize catch and on toward the nuptials?

Well, first you can expect to be treated like the debutante you are, whether you actually were a debutante or not. Your social calendar will be overbooked with soirees hosted by each side of the family, events where you can look forward to being groped by drunken older men usually characterized as “dear friends of the family,” “Colonel,” or “governor.” Obviously, you don’t want to rebuff this sort of behavior, as one of those “dear friends” may eventually become Husband Number 3.

In fact, the main purpose of these parties, as far as you’re concerned, is to reconnoiter the social landscape for prospective targets. Is there a wealthy bachelor cousin in the mix? And is he hetero? What preliminary threats from other females can you identify in his regard?

You should spend a lot of time showing off your not-less-than-1.5 carat engagement ring. Remember: you ARE a trophy to be won. The size and quality of your engagement ring determines whether you’re viewed as a “bowling” or a “Super Bowl” trophy. As you can see, there’s a world of difference! Of course, since this is your first engagement, you can’t expect to be the Stanley Cup. But you do want to set a respectably high bar for future suitors to leap over in their quest to win you.

Also during your engagement, you should be prepared to sit through hours of excruciatingly boring meetings with wedding planners. Naturally, you’ll have no say in planning any aspect of this momentous occasion. All of that will be left up to the respective mothers, who’ll broker agreements designed to maintain the balance of power between your two families. The smallest details, down to the flavor of jam between the layers of your twelve-tiered, cascading, monogrammed cake, will be handled by women who know far more than you do about what you really want.

And then there’s the issue of The Dress.

The Dress might be one handed down through generations in your family. Or it might be an heirloom from your husband’s side of the family. If so, you’ll look dowdy. And you can’t afford that. You deserve a Vera Wang creation, and you shall have it.

[Note from Savannah’s long-suffering secretary, Elizabeth: Well, Alexis certainly wound Savannah’s crank with her question. Savannah’s been dictating for hours, and I hear no end in sight. We’ll have more on “The Life Cycle of Marriage” next time.]

The post The Life Cycle of Marriage (Part One) appeared first on Just Laugh.

What do you do with a drunken sailor,
What do you do with a drunken sailor,
What do you do with a drunken sailor
Early in the morning?

Signed,
Basil
Cheddar, England

Savannah Says:

I don’t understand this. What can it mean? Broncho wants, nay demands, that I pay his hospitalization costs. It’s a very perplexing development.

To explain (for those of you who aren’t Fan Club members and therefore didn’t get this news bulletin earlier), Broncho fell off my roof last week while installing my new DirecTV satellite dish. Luckily, he was virtually finished with the job when the accident occurred, and I’ve been enjoying over 100 channels of high quality entertainment with crystal-clear digital reception for the past several days. It really helped take my mind off poor Broncho’s condition.

He broke his collarbone, and I had Elizabeth take him immediately to the emergency room where, seven-and-a-half hours later he was seen by a doctor. Unfortunately, they don’t have DirecTV at the hospital, so Broncho was not able to enjoy watching the TCM John Wayne marathon consisting of True Gritfollowed by Rooster Cogburn and rounded out with The Shootist, which made me bawl my eyes out as it always does. The man deserved that Oscar.

Anyway, now that Broncho’s back home at the hacienda, he gently informed me that I should submit a “Worker’s Compensation” claim to cover his accident. Actually, what he said was, “You’ll pay for this.”

After all I’ve done for him.

But back to your question, Basil.

Do many English men share your fascination with drunken sailors? I’ve heard you Brits are randy, but I’ve yet to plant a flag on your territory, so to speak.

Your letter omits many details. However, I think we can safely assume the following, based on little clues and inferences you’ve given us: you and the sailor are naked, or nearly so; you’ve woken up in a compromising position; the sailor is not all that attractive; you have a severe headache; you’re not sure where you are; the sailor is still asleep and snoring loudly; the gasthaus provides only a single, communal toilet down the hall and you think you’re going to be sick and aren’t sure if you can sprint down there in time, given how dizzy you feel and the fact you can’t find your robe, lingerie, or any stitch of clothing to don before you burst into the hallway. Is that a fairly accurate picture, Basil? I’ve never been in this situation before, so I’m just guessing.

Setting aside the issue of hangover, the first thing you should do is quietly rifle through the sailor’s personal effects to find out who he is and whether or not he has a substantial amount of cash on him. If he is of a respectable rank, then you can safely wait around for him to awaken and take you to brunch. If he’s an ensign or something, then you’d better gather up your belongings as quickly as possible and sneak out unnoticed. Also, it’s wise to check for a wedding band, whether on his finger or in his pants pocket. If you do find one, the classy thing to do is to quietly leave the premises and call his wife from a phone in the lobby to let her know where to find her husband. She’ll appreciate this gesture.

Naturally, these guidelines apply only during times of peace. During wartime, you should refer to the Geneva Convention, section 82, paragraph 12(a)5, subsection “C,” which clearly delineates the rights and responsibilities of both sides during a romantic tete-a-tete. It’s also helpful to refer to old, black-and-white war movies, such as In Harm’s Way and From Here to Eternity for guidance.

Good luck, dear!

© 2000-2002 Elizabeth Hanes

The post Savannah Salutes the Military Man appeared first on Just Laugh.

My girlfriend has a checkered past. When she was in college, she worked as a topless dancer. She’s also been divorced twice, although she doesn’t have any kids. Also, she used to have a drinking problem (now she only drinks socially), and she used to be a heavy smoker, but she’s cut down to a pack a day.

Then there’s the age difference. She’s 37, and I’m a 19-year-old college sophomore majoring in civil engineering. I come from a very straight-laced, religious background, and my parents don’t approve of Bonnie. They don’t like the fact that I met her during a life drawing class (even us brainiacs have to take a certain number of fine arts credits), where she was working as a nude model, and they strongly disapprove of her past history, not to mention the fact that she sings in local nightclubs and plans to become a recording artist.

The thing is, I love Bonnie with all my heart. I feel she’s my soulmate, that I can build a life with her. How can I get my parents to accept her?

Lovelorn,
Brandon in South Carolina

Savannah Says:

I think I saw something like this on an episode of Bonanza. Adam Cartwright fell for the daughter of a Jewish peddler, who didn’t approve of Adam because he wasn’t Jewish and didn’t know the first thing about the old Jewish traditions. But then Adam came to the peddler’s rescue and managed to kill two guys who were trying to steal his money, not to mention torturing the peddler and trying to rape his daughter, and then the peddler came around to the fact that maybe he was too strict with his daughter and should probably let her go to the dance with Adam after all, because, let’s face it, the prospects of finding his daughter a Jewish scholar to marry in late-1800s Nevada were pretty slim.

OK, maybe that doesn’t really match your problem, because Adam Cartwright was a fine, upstanding man in the community, with no skeletons in his closet. Educated, handsome, and rich, it’s incredible he went for five seasons without getting married off.

Come to think of it, your problem is more like the episode in which Little Joe hires one of the ranch hands, a former bounty hunter, to find out who’s rustling the herds of the Cattlemen’s Association. The ranch hand’s dating a saloon girl in Carson City, and he keeps promising her he’s going to make some “real money” soon and take her away from “all of this” to something better in San Francisco. The saloon girl keeps pretending she believes in his fantasy scheme, but deep down she doesn’t believe she’s worth it. She thinks Dan, the ranch hand, deserves better than her, even though she truly loves him. Dan ends up falsely accused of killing a rustler, but Little Joe proves one of the Cattlemen’s Association members did it. Meanwhile, the saloon girl keeps plying her trade, and Dan ends up leaving town without her, his heart shattered by her infidelity, but with a nifty $1300 in his pocket.

Yes, this is much more like your situation. Of course, in the television show, Dan did the sensible thing. He accepted the fact that the saloon girl would never change, and he cut his losses by leaving her.

Naturally, that is wrong. That only works in the movies. In real life, you have to try to change the people you love, and that is what I’d recommend you do with Bonnie. If you work at it hard enough, I’m sure you can mold her into the kind of woman your parents want you to have: an honest, loving, responsible helpmate who will bear you many children and always be there to support you in your times of need. You simply need to tell her what you expect of her, and if she truly loves you, she’ll be more than willing to change herself into the woman of your dreams.

Or, you can tell your parents you want $1300 to dump her and take the cash. Either way, it’s a win-win situation. Good luck!

[Note from Elizabeth: Next week, I’ll make sure Miss Lawless does not have access to both the remote control and the liquor cabinet key. Gin and Pax-TV just don’t mix.]

© 2000-2002 Elizabeth Hanes

The post The Tao of Bonanza appeared first on Just Laugh.

For several months now I have followed your advice column with interest, and never thought that I’d be drunk enough to write, but here I go!  Er, could you edit out the drunk part? [Elizabeth: No.]  Thanks!

Anyway, I kinda fell for this woman and after worshiping from afar asked her to go with me on a picnic (in a public, safe spot).  She said she’d check her schedule and get back to me.  A few days later she called and said that she was seeing someone else, and that she didn’t feel comfortable going with me at the same time.  After sobbing a bit and consoling myself with assorted beverages, I realized that there may have been something else going on.

One possibility was that she had a moral code and was willing to stick to it.  Another was that fact that I drive a used minivan and he has a more expensive vehicle.  We won’t discuss jobs or incomes right now, thanks.

So, here’s my question.  Do I just forget her and move on with my pitiful life, or should I hire a detective and scope this guy out with the option of having him disappear after a little accident?

Your sincerely,

A Devoted Reader

Savannah Says:

I see so many issues here, I don’t even know where to begin.

Should you hire a private investigator?  Definitely.  But not to investigate the alleged boyfriend. Instead, you need to turn your sights on this girl you admire.  What is she hiding?  Does she really have a boyfriend?  Does she have an embarrassing sexual attraction to squirrels that would make a picnic in the park an uncomfortable experience?

Could it be that she has children?  And a husband?  Or two?  Or more?

Is it possible she’s involved in an affair with her boss, who’s secretly blackmailing her into keeping quiet by threatening to reveal the sordid details (and Polaroids) of that unfortunate night in Cancun involving an alpaca, a bottle of Jose Cuervo, and a transvestite trapeze artist named
JoJo?

But I digress.

If you’re serious about getting this girl, you need to find out where she lives – and I mean that in the metaphorical as well as literal sense.  Learn her habits: where she works, when she comes and goes, routine appointments (like time at the gym) she keeps on a daily, weekly and monthly basis.

Once armed with this ammunition, you can confidently begin your courtship.  Leave little “love gifts” leaning against her front door.  Include notes that say things like, “I know you’ll be home around 4:30, like you always are,” and “When I saw you this morning at 8:37, striding confidently into the law offices of Bluenose and Twitch, where you’ve worked for the past 4 years, 8 months, I knew you were the woman I had to have.”

After several weeks of establishing this romantic bond between you, create an aura of intrigue and mystery around yourself by phoning the girl’s home at times you know she’s away and leaving messages on her machine.  You might say something like, “That blue scarf you wore this morning really lit up your eyes.  I wonder if a candlelight bath at my place would do the same.”
Love poetry also can be very effective at wooing the girl of your dreams.  How about, “Roses are red, violets are blue, nothing could keep me, away from you”?

Eventually, of course, you’ll want to reveal yourself and establish a physical relationship.  Nothing could be more romantic than prying your way into her car, hiding in the backseat, and popping up suddenly while she’s driving.  Be sure to have a gift in hand.  Perhaps a bottle of her favorite perfume (you DO know what perfume she wears, right?) or a bobble-head doll in her likeness that says “I Love You.”

Trust me, she’ll be thrilled the man of her dreams has finally arrived in her life.  If you both survive the car crash.

Good luck, dear!

© 2000-2002 Elizabeth Hanes

The post Lawless, P.I. appeared first on Just Laugh.

Twenty-seven years ago, I made a horrible mistake.  I got pregnant by a guy who claimed to be a wealthy ex-frat boy but turned out instead to be just a caddy at the local country club.  He had no family status, no money, and no prospects.

It’s inconvenient enough to be pregnant under any circumstances, and when I considered the hugely negative impact an unwanted child would have on my lifestyle, I realized I couldn’t go through with it.

Unfortunately, by the time I learned the terrible truth about the child’s father, I was already in an advanced stage of pregnancy.  I put a 2-pronged plan into action to rectify the situation.  First, I fired the private investigator who took so long to find out the truth about my lover.  Next, I did the only prudent thing I could to spare myself the financial anguish of single motherhood: I wrapped the newborn in a receiving blanket and left it in a basket on the doorstep of a Tudor-style mansion in the wealthy district and put the whole sordid incident out of my mind.

Recent events, however, have brought me a tremendous amount of guilt and pain over what I did.  I’ve cried a river of tears since last Tuesday, when it suddenly hit me what a horrible mistake I’d made in not staying in touch with my dear, darling daughter.

You see, I read in the newspaper’s business section that despite my daughter’s genetic heritage, she turned out to be very smart, graduating from an Ivy League college with an MBA.  In fact, she just inherited control of her late adoptive father’s vast hosiery empire. My baby is now worth several hundred million dollars.

I’m inconsolable.  I can’t express to you how much I regret giving up my baby.  It pains me that my daughter, my flesh and blood, has no idea I exist.  I’m not even sure she knows she was adopted.

How can I ingratiate myself back into her life and pocketbook?  After all, don’t I deserve to embark on a financially fulfilling relationship with my long-lost daughter?  I mean, consider all the suffering I’ve gone through in the past few days, not to mention 20 hours of labor to bring little Jessica into the world and the thousands of dollars of plastic surgery required to rid me of all those stretch marks. 

I figure if anyone knows the answer to these difficult questions, it’s you, Savannah. Thanks in advance!

Pining birth mother,

Becky Sue
Lincolnwood, Nebraska

Savannah Says:

I always knew there was at least one good reason to have children, and I do believe you’ve pinpointed it for me.

I can well understand how you must be feeling.  Once, I gave away a puppy that eventually became a champion stud worth thousands of dollars.  How I rued the day I ever gave him up!

The first thing you must remember is that you hold the high moral ground in this situation.  After all, you were only thinking of Jessica’s happiness when you relinquished her.  How happy could she possibly have been, tagging along with you on those all-expense-paid singles weekends in Cancun, pretending to be your nine-year-old sister?  Or posing as the maid’s illegitimate child when well-to-do gentleman callers arrived to take you to the opera?  No, you did the right thing by leaving Jessica on that family’s doorstep.  So, stop punishing yourself with guilt.

I recommend you take the bull by the horns and drive to her home unannounced,  preferably in the middle of the night or some other time when she’s sure to be at home, confused and/or emotionally vulnerable.  Weepily demand an audience with your long-lost daughter.  Present her with a piece of heirloom jewelry, even if it’s an heirloom from some other family.  You want to come across as a giving person.  As the old saying goes, “If you establish a reputation as an early riser, you can sleep as late as you want.”  By giving Jessica something of value right away, you open the door to a lifetime of receiving.

Good luck, dear!

© 2000-2002 Elizabeth Hanes

The post Working the Adoption Option appeared first on Just Laugh.

This relationship problem’s not really about me.  See it’s my best friend, Carol.  Well, she was recently dumped by her boyfriend, Jon.  I never really did like him.  It all started out when another one of my friends, Kyla, was going out with him. Jon dumped her, and started going out with Carol.  So they were doing fine and everything, until Kyla comes in, still liking Jon, and starts flirting with him and of course Jon does it back.  Jon starts to talk to Carol less and less.

Carol, thinking she could trust Kyla, said, “Kyla, I might dump Jon.”  Well that was a mistake because Kyla told him.  So Jon asked one of his pals what he should do and they said he should get rid of Carol.  So the next day he broke up with her.  Kyla pretended she’d done nothing, but Carol knew she did.  Kyla also said, “I won’t go out with Jon if you’re still hurt,” and Carol was, but Kyla asked him out anyway.  He said yes and that was that.

So now every time Kyla and Jon are together she rubs it in to Carol.  Carol doesn’t deserve that.  She’s always nice to everyone.  Kyla is just Kyla, if you know what I mean.  Carol’s never told me this before, but I think she’s in love with Jon.  Her actions speak louder than words: the way she’s always talking about him, the way she smiled when he held her hand, the way she dances with her head on his shoulder, and most of all the way she cried her never ending tears.  Please tell me how to get Jon back with Carol.  I’ve tried everything and they need to be together.

Thank you,
Melissa

Savannah Says:

I think relationships by committee really are the way to go.  It’s very difficult to step back and manage one’s own relationship objectively.  It’s much better to get your entire circle of friends (and even acquaintances, or people you’ve just met in 7-11) involved in the management of your love affair.  I mean, how else can you really know what’s going on?

Anyone who’s been in business knows that committees work through gossip, backbiting, and alliances formed late at night at the local fern bar.  You people have that part down pat.

What you lack is organization.

Go around to your friends individually and set up secret rendezvous to “bounce some ideas” off them about the Kyla/Jon/Carol situation.  Naturally, you’ll schedule all of these for the same time and place.  Make sure the principal players (Kyla, Jon, Carol) aren’t invited.  Once everyone shows up and starts asking “who called this meeting,” you can take control by saying things like, “Since we’re all here, what do you think of busting up Kyla and Jon and getting Jon back together with Carol?” or “Why doesn’t Margie take notes to make sure we’re all on the same page?” or “Do these pants make me look fat?”

Work to build consensus by cattily referring to the past indiscretions of your fellow committee members when they disagree with you.  Don’t spill the beans entirely, just cock your eyebrow and strategically drop the names of people, places or events to remind your friends they’d better go along with you or risk having their dirty laundry aired.  Saying, “So, Josh, did you ever explain to Jenny how you got that rash during your, ah, ‘hunting’ trip last fall?” is going to quickly build more consensus than pleading or logical reasoning ever will.

Once you’ve established the group’s support of your plan, assign individual tasks.  One member could be charged with spreading false rumors about Kyla’s past, while another could confide to Jon that Carol has a sizeable trust fund “she doesn’t really like to talk about.”  Set a follow-up meeting so they can report on the results of their efforts.  That should do the trick.

Good luck, dear!

© 2000-2002 Elizabeth Hanes

The post Who Called This Meeting? appeared first on Just Laugh.

Is revenge ever an option?

Last week, after a wonderful six-week relationship, my fiancé, Ned (his real name), cleaned out my apartment, sold everything off, and left me penniless.  He drained my checking account, then wrote a bad check on our joint account to buy a $36,000 Ferrari.

He even killed my fish.

I have vowed to devote every waking moment to tracking him down and well, probably not killing him, per se, but getting him back really, really good.

But before I quit my job, I wanted to check with you to find out what relationship etiquette dictates in this sort of situation.  Are there any rules governing this type of thing?  I mean, what sort of retaliation am I allowed to commit?  Can I push his new car off a cliff?  With him in it?

Or should I just drink heavily until the feeling passes and forget about the whole thing?

Signed,
Perplexed

Savannah Says:

“Revenge” is such an ugly word.  I prefer vengeance, requital, reprisal, repayment, quid-pro-quo, retaliation, retribution, avengement or spite.

But that’s just me.

Women are not vengeful by nature.  We are nurturing, loving, and slow to anger.  Our patience knows no bounds.

Unfortunately, men often force us beyond the limits of our sweet dispositions.  At these times, revenge certainly is one tool at our disposal to restore our emotional equilibrium.

Knowing when it’s appropriate to exact revenge is something of a science.  However, it’s safe to say that when a man tells you he made his fortune in “securities exchange,” when what he really means is “I knocked over an armored car filled with stock certificates and then sold them to my fence,” this would be a case for requital.  And if he says, “I bought you this beautiful purebred Quarter horse/appaloosa/pinto stallion because I love you,” when he really means, “I stole this horse in Texas and rode for days across the New Mexico desert in order to outwit law enforcement officers,” then probably you’d be justified in retaliating.

Generally speaking, these guidelines provide a framework for knowing when it ‘s all right to give in to your feelings of vengeance:

• If he lies to you.
• If he cheats.
• If he steals any of your possessions or money.
• If he conceals his criminal past (or present).
• If he’s late picking you up for a date.
• If he snores.
• If he makes obnoxious slurping noises while eating soup.
• If he watches too much TV.
• If he spends too much time in the bathroom.
• If he refuses to take you shopping.

Keep in mind, this is only a partial list.

As far as your own behavior in exacting vengeance, let me just say that revenge is a beautiful art.  It requires skill, finesse, timing, and intelligence – all qualities women possess in abundance.  For example, embarrassing a man in front of his friends (or boss, or parents) always works well.  If he disparaged your cooking skills the night before, tell his co-workers at a cocktail party the next evening how much happier you’ve been since he went to the doctor for that “little blue pill.”

Your case, Perplexed, justifies more drastic action. Setting his Ferrari on fire (though not with him inside) would make a bold statement.  Lashing him to the mast of a catamaran and setting him adrift on the ocean also comes to mind.  And, of course, there’s always that old standby: getting him really drunk and putting him on a plane (without his wallet or passport) to any communist nation.  A one-way ticket, naturally.

Revenge provides a tonic for the soul.  In fact, its health benefits recently were documented in a study by Johns-Hopkins University, which found that two out of three people who retaliated against others who had wronged them felt significantly better afterwards.  So, don’t be afraid to indulge your spunky side!

Good luck, dear!

© 2000-2002 Elizabeth Hanes

The post The Beautiful Art of Revenge appeared first on Just Laugh.

I have a real problem.  I love women too much.  I mean, when it comes to women, I just can’t say no.  That’s how I wound up with six wives.

Of course, they don’t know about each other.  It’s been fairly easy maintaining this charade.  I tell them I travel a lot in my job as safety manager for a plush toy company and, since none of them are too bright, this has worked out all right.

With Christmas, Hanukkah and Kwanzaa around the corner, it might be a little trickier than usual to finesse the situation.  Naturally, each of my wives is begging me to be “home” for the particular holiday she celebrates.  I’m looking at a whole lot of airplane travel throughout December.  My frequent flyer account will be bulging!

My question is, with increased airport security, can I still hope to smuggle enough tiny liquor bottles onboard to keep me fortified?  What would be the best way to do this?

Flying high,

Vernon L.
Alabama, Arkansas, Mississippi, and Kentucky

Savannah Says:

I can understand why you’d need fortification.  Those long airport waits can be exhausting, especially now that so many airports have closed their VIP lounges.

Fortunately, I have picked up some strategies for dealing with such a problem, due to my occasional stays at the spa – which doesn’t allow any alcohol.  I’m happy to share these tips with you.

One solution to your problem would be to forego taking the actual bottles, which can be bulky and look suspicious inside your X-rayed carry-on.  Instead, mix your own cocktails in plastic zipper bags and tape them to your body.  (If you were a woman, you could augment your  cleavage with these natural-looking “prosthetics.”)  Once onboard, you can remove the bag from your person, slice a small piece off the corner of it and squirt the cocktail into your mouth, like using a bota bag.  If the flight attendants catch you, tell them it’s “medication.”  Be sure you say “medication” and not “medical device.”  The latter could cause suspicion and disgust to fall upon you.

This method also works well for sedating the unruly small children sharing a seat next to you.  Nothing is more disconcerting than getting to your tenth fingernail with fresh polish in that expensive new Tangelo shade from Neiman-Marcus and then having your elbow bumped so that the polish goes all over your finger, hand, and seatback tray.  The solution is simple.   squeeze a stream of Absolut from your homemade wineskin into the little hellions’ nationally marketed cola beverage.  The wide mouth of those plastic airline cups makes an easy target to hit.  By applying enough pressure, you can send a stream several feet through the air, arching it over the heads of other passengers, to reach the glasses of obnoxious children several rows away.  You’ll bask in the glowing looks of approval from other passengers after the little scamps pass out.

Men have fewer options for transporting their own alcohol than women do.  For instance, women can obtain those fake plastic lipsticks used for display at better cosmetics counters, seal them for water-tightness, and then fill them with booze.  Once on the plane, pull out your “lipstick,” surreptitiously poke a hole in the tip of it with your nail file, and empty the contents into your mouth.  It only holds about a single shot, but if you choose well – filling it with, say, a good tequila or stiff rotgut whiskey – the blast will serve you nicely.  This technique works especially well for short, nerve-wracking flights on turbulence-prone small jets.

Through trial and error, I’ve found certain techniques sound great in theory but don’t really work at all.  For instance, filling large, 00-sized gelatin capsules with brandy and passing them off as “cold pills” isn’t very effective.  It’s difficult and labor-intensive to get the liquid in those  darn things, and you tend to arouse suspicion by dosing yourself every ten minutes.  So, I can’t recommend this.

Good luck, dear, and happy holidays!

The post I’ll be Home(s) for Christmas appeared first on Just Laugh.

Unlike that idiotic crap you usually print, I have a real problem.  I’m engaged to be married after the baby comes because I don’t want to look fat in my wedding dress.

That’s not my problem.  My problem is, I just found out my fiancé has been cheating on me.

I had my suspicions all along.  Not too long ago, I was going through the voicemail box on his cell phone (he doesn’t know I have his security code, but I greased his secretary with a 10-spot and she coughed it up) and discovered a message from “Vanessa.”  That’s it.  Just “Vanessa” and a phone number.

Now, I come from a big family, and people talk.  So, I casually asked my cousin Tracy if she knew anyone named Vanessa.  She said she didn’t, BUT she’d heard our cousin Phil mention a Vanessa once.

Phil told me he couldn’t remember any Vanessa, but he knew a convenience store clerk named “Leigh Ann” who was pretty hot.  She works in the next town over.  So, I took a drive to see Leigh Ann.  She’s young, with long red hair, and boobs that look fake.  She’s definitely pretty hot.

As I paid for my Slurpee, I casually asked her if she knew anyone named Randy (my fiance’s name).  She thought for a minute and said she gets a lot of customers and can’t remember all their names.  BUT, I noticed she had a tattoo on her wrist that said “Loverboy,” which is Randy’s favorite ‘80s band.

When I got home, there was a message on my answering machine from Taryn, another cousin, who told me she knew of a girl named Vanessa in Lakewood who works in a lingerie shop.  So, I drove all the way up to Lakewood, but it turned out Vanessa wasn’t working that day.

BUT, I talked to her co-workers, and they said Vanessa (who is very cute) is dating a guy named Lance, and they’ve been going out for over two years.  I asked if Vanessa knew anyone named Randy, and the other clerk, Jessica, said she didn’t know, BUT Vanessa has a totally hot body and likes to wear lace thong panties to show off her cute butt. Randy likes cute butts.  AND her favorite mall drink is Orange Julius, which is also Randy’s favorite.

Since I was already in Lakewood, I called my cousin Moose over in Erindale to see if he wanted to have lunch.  He has a good job and usually will treat.  So, we get together at the Dairy Queen, and just then my cell phone rings.  My cousin Elaine tells me she just remembered the 1998 LeSeur County Pork Princess was named Vanessa.  She doesn’t know the girl’s last name, or where she is today, BUT Randy’s favorite meat is pork. AND he likes princesses.  He cried like a baby when Princess Diana died.

I confronted Randy with all this evidence of his affair, but naturally he denied it.  He told me he loved me, and he thought maybe my hormones were a little out of control.  He said it’s possible he has a policyholder named Vanessa. (He’s an insurance salesman.)  What else would he say, though?  Of course he’s going to deny having an affair!

I’m thinking of calling off the wedding until he comes clean with me and admits his cheating ways.  What do you think?

Sincerely,

Distraught in the Midwest

Savannah Says:

I applaud your excellent detective work.  A girl can never be too thorough in investigating allegations of cheating.

It’s lamentable the way men have to drag out these scenarios.  If only Randy would admit his wrongdoing, the two of you could walk the path of atonement and shopping.  Instead, you’re looking at tears and recriminations.  How much credit card agony could be spared if only Randy would tell the truth.

I would go ahead with the wedding as planned.  If he’s cheating on you now, chances are he’ll do it again.  And if you can catch him doing it after you’re married, the rewards for you will be so much greater.

Good luck, dear!

The post To Catch a Cheater appeared first on Just Laugh.

Is it unusually kinky to wear an empty ice cream bucket on your head during lovemaking?

My girlfriend thinks so.  The way I see it, it’s pretty harmless.

I took a 5-quart ice cream bucket, scrubbed it thoroughly, then cut out eye holes and painted on a pleasant-looking face.  When I put this mask on, I transform myself into a superhero: Quiescently Frozen Confection Man, fighting to rid the world of selfish lovers and improve sexual techniques everywhere.

Quiescently Frozen Confection Man is mild-mannered by day, but when he dons his superhero outfit, he becomes a suave ladies man, who’ll stop at nothing to please his woman in bed.  He vigilantly stamps out boring lovemaking wherever he finds it and lectures wrongdoers about improving their skills.

I think it might be this lecturing part that my girlfriend objects to.  Hey, I’m just trying to help her be a better sex kitten, you know?

Another problem, according to my girlfriend, is Quiescently Frozen Confection Man’s habit of peeking into people’s windows to observe their lovemaking techniques and, if necessary, burst into their bedrooms to offer advice and assistance.  My girlfriend seems to think I’m going to get arrested for this, but the fact is, QFCM’s super power (“Brain Freeze” – the ability to temporarily, but painfully, halt all cognitive processes in mere
mortals) will save him from those evil forces who would try to stop him from accomplishing his mission.

We’ve been dating for about three years now, but my girlfriend’s increasing lack of tolerance for QFCM is starting to drive a wedge between us.  How can I get her to understand that being Quiescently Frozen Confection Man is not a choice I’ve made but a responsibility that’s been thrust upon me?

In the spirit of romance,

Quiescently Frozen Confection Man
Somewhere in the Big, Dark City

Savannah Says:

I’ve never met a woman who didn’t like ice cream.  It’s positively perplexing to me that any such creature could exist.  My personal favorite is Chocolate Mousse Royale by Baskin Robbins, but in a pinch any flavor or brand will do.  Butter pecan, French vanilla, Rocky Road, Margarita Chiquita and Strawberry Daiquiri Cream (which we mix up in small batches here at the ranch) – they’re all good.

So, I would think the combination of love, sex, and ice cream would be most women’s idea of heaven.  Your girlfriend must be a real kook!

One thing I’m wondering, though, is how you manage to keep the ice cream from melting all over.  And, doesn’t it freeze your head?

I can see a couple of way of resolving your problem.  First of all, you need to open the lines of communication with your girlfriend.  Obviously, you’re not choosing ice cream flavors she likes.  Once you can get her to open up a little, talk about what she likes and doesn’t like, then you can accommodate her desires and fantasies.  It can be difficult to talk about such intimate things, but your loving persistence will pay off in the end.

Secondly, the cleanup must be a nightmare.  Be sure you’re a considerate lover in this respect.  Keep plenty of large bath towels on hand to mop up the mess – during and after.  I mean, five quarts is quite a volume.  Don’t be chauvinistic and think your girlfriend’s job is to clean up all that goo.  Laying down a drop cloth or spreading out old newspapers could be seen as a thoughtful gesture on your part.

If you have pets, you could always invite the dog up onto the bed when your girlfriend’s not looking (say, when you’re in the cuddling phase) and let him take care of cleaning up the mess.  Just be careful where he puts his nose.

On the whole, however, my advice is to dump this woman.  She sure doesn’t sou nd like much fun.  You’ll be a lot happier with someone who understands your love of ice cream.  And I do mean “love.”

Good luck, dear!

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