The Offended Blogger

From an actual Dear Abby letter:

“DEAR ABBY CHELLE B.: I am 22 years old and stuck in a long-term relationship. My boyfriend has taken care of me since my mother died last year. She was my only family, so without my boyfriend I’d be alone.

My problem is, I am no longer attracted to him. I don’t want to hurt his feelings because of everything he has helped me through, but is a relationship worth staying in if you don’t feel the “connection” anymore? — ALONE IN THE SOUTH

Dear “Alone”,

First of all, this whole ’southern belle’ thing isn’t fooling anyone. Let’s break this down into plain language. You feel guilty because you went from having your momma pay your bills to sponging off of some poor bastard you met at eHarmony (who is more than likely the type who is loyal and faithful and hung like a horse) and now you’re bored with him and you’ve met some loser on a World of Warcraft forum and want to dump Mr. Nice Guy for Mr. Gonna-Knock-You-Up-And-Down-And-All-Around-Before-Leaving-You-For-Your-Sister but deep down you know it’s wrong and need validation from a stranger to justify doing so.

Am I right?

Of course I am!

I’m always right.

Hooyah!

Anyhoo, here’s my advice.

First of all, since Mr. WOW probably exaggerates about having a larger penis than Mr. Nice and isn’t going to stick around long anyway, I suggest not breaking up with Mr. Nice just yet. Simply use your southern charm to acquire enough pocket money from Mr. Nice to fly Mr. WOW in for a weekend of mediocre sex at a Motel Six and get him out of your system.

It probably won’t take all weekend, so maybe find one of those motels where you can pay by the hour and use the left over money to buy yourself something nice.

Now then, with that short-lived disappointment behind you, next you need to focus on your long term problem, which is how to get rid of Mr. Nice! If you really don’t want to be stuck with him, why bother putting yourself through the hassle of a painful “it’s not you, it’s me” breakup? I mean, you seem nice enough yourself, so could you live with all that post-breakup guilt?

Of course not!!

So here is what you do in 3 easy steps to take care of this problem in the most practical and painless way possible.

I’m sure you’re intelligent enough to figure them out:

1) Term Life Insurance
2) Succinylcholine (or if you can’t get a hold of that, Pancuronium Bromide will do in a pinch)
3) Sex Change Operation

There you have it, problem solved.

No one will ever need to take care of you again and you don’t have to troll the internet for that illusive “big one” because you will be able to afford to have one of your very own to play with for all time!

Well, until some needy chick who just lost her momma on eHarmony finds you and then finds this post and…

Heh.

After all, karma is a bitch.

Dear Chelle B., Do you remember me? I wrote sometime back asking for your help on how to deal with my frigid, militant, Mary worshiping wife and you had some pretty radical suggestions for me to try. I admit that at first I was a bit shocked and rather offended by your advice, but after slamming a fifth of Vodka and having intimate relations with Rosy Palm for the fifth time that week, day, hour, I realized that you were right!

All I really needed to do was grow a pair and attempt to exert my manhood once and for all and get what I rightfully deserved from the woman who vowed to honor, cherish and obey me.

Which I did.

Attempt to exert my manhood that is.

Between you and me though, I don’t think I got quite what I deserved, no matter what she wants me to think:

Don’t worry, the doctor said I should recover within a year or two, but I may never regain the ability to attempt to bend her over the bed and show her that I am the man of our house ever again.

Or have full control of my bowels…

Or the full use of my left eye or right arm…

….but hey, I did gain some self respect so it was almost worth it!!

Had it not been for you, I may have never gotten past my fear of exerting my manhood!

Unfortunately, though, that fear has now been replaced with a deep seated phobia of St. Francis of Assissi strap-ons, and I don’t think they’ll ever be able to surgically remove all of the rosary beads from my colon, but all of that pales in comparison to the permanent scars left from her homemade tattoo removal tool:

Yeah.

I know.

On the upside, she did leave a large bruise on my left ass cheek that bears an uncanny resemblance to the Virgin Mary so I now have thousands of faithful, young, nubile Catholic school girls making pilgrimages from across the globe to see it and to kiss my ass!!

And we both know how slutty those bitches are before you put a ring on their finger, right?

Hooyah!!

Of course, I still haven’t gotten laid, but hey, a man in my position has to take whatever he can get so that is just what I am going to do.

Well, at least until the bruise heals.

Thanks again, Chelle B.! You changed my life.

Signed,

NO LONGER FRUSTRATED

*******************************************************************

We have a winner for the “Name That Nasty Crap” special Valentine’s edition!!

The answer was…

…the plaque pulled out of a human heart.

That’s right kids, so remember that shit the next time you eat 12 pounds of chocolaty Valentine goodness given to you by a so-called loved one!!

Now you know they really only want to cash in that life insurance sooner.

Congratulations to Spaz for guessing correctly, you earned the coveted Golden Poo award:

Don’t miss this week’s edition, which will have a multi-cultural theme!!

PS – Does anyone else see the Virgin Mary up there in the top part of that plaque or am I smoking crack again?

Hmmmmm….