DP mania: an inhuman lack of control.

Human relationships always help us to carry on because they always presuppose further developments, a future --and also because we live as if our only task was precisely to have relationships with other people.
     - Albert Camus

An update from the “Better Late than Never” department. I have a busy, and apologize for my lateness to the DP party.

I live in interesting times lately. I have been a consultant for a decade or so, and have worked from home exclusively for the last three or so years. Now, I have a desk with my name on it and a stapler in the drawer, there’s a coffee maker across the building, and people sit all around me, making noises, asking how my weekend was, talking to their wives about last night’s episode of “Real Housewives of Weaverville, North Carolina.”

I am, oddly, a little out of place. Normally I am pretty gregarious, outspoken, and approachable in public settings, but this feels like a new world to me. I introduced myself to a coworker yesterday, shook her hand, and found it hard to look her in the eye. What the fuck?

Whatever the case, it feels good to be out among the normal. I look forward to coming in every day, and that’s an odd feeling in itself.

Meanwhile, I need to build a timeslot into my schedule to get DP work done on Thursdays.

Off to Proodieland. What a lovely brood this week.

Originals here.

***

Dear Prudence,

I began dating a man last summer, and he loves anal sex. I often shy away and feel uncomfortable. He told me that it's a make-or-break for him in a relationship. Should I bite the bullet and just go for it or let him know that I'll probably never enjoy it to the extent he does and let this "break" our relationship?

—Make or Break

Dear Break,

Damnit. What the hell? Do I need to remind you it is your responsibility, nay; duty, to take a manly meat missile up the puckered pooper whenever a man says to, goddamn woman! This whole “I shy away and feel uncomfortable” thing is a bunch of whiny girl bullshit. You love it. You know you do.

We straight guys remember prostate exams – the ones where the doctor has really big fingers – and tend to be a little more understanding about these things, unlike your anally addicted amour, and tend to make this activity optional. In your case you don’t need a prostate exam. You need a brain.

***

Dear Prudence,

I am in my mid-20s and pregnant with my first child. My MIL is a wealthy woman, and she has offered to pay off my considerable student loans. My fiance is all for me accepting the gift, however, one of his sisters is furious and has accused me of getting pregnant for financial gain. I would love to have my student loans paid off but do not want to ruin my relationship with my future sister-in-law. What should I do?

—Pregnant and Puzzled

Dear Puzzled,

Every time some woman gets pregnant it is automatically assumable she’s after one of the following:

- A husband. Most women, as you know, are helpless nitwits who cannot function without a man by their side, giving them guidance on things like what to cook me for supper, or when to fetch me a goddamn beer, bitch, and would you mind hurrying the hell up?

- Attention. Women need attention like babies need their asses wiped, and pregnancy is their favorite way to seek attention, second only to marriage, which is another story entirely.

- Money. It is a well known fact that women are not as able as men to earn money, and getting pregnant is a fine way to troll for extra cash, all the while basking in the additional attention from their new fiance.

Clearly you missed the boat when nature handed out basic life skills.

The rest of us – when we stop laughing, would say “geez, you’re stupid. I would tell Mumsy in Law to publicly give the money to the boy, or simply don’t bother to invite the sister in law over for Thanksgiving.”

***

Dear Prudence,

My parents were divorced when I was young, and my father remarried. My stepmother is a mean and manipulative woman. When it was time for me to go to college, my father agreed to pay for my schooling. Then my stepmother called me and said that my father had a heart attack and that his dying wish was to see me, but that she wouldn't let me see him. It all turned out to be a lie, just her strange attempt not to have him pay my tuition. I broke ties with that side of my family after that incident. My father and stepsister reached out to me a few years ago after more than a decade of silence. I've had a hard time reconnecting as I'm not sure my father knows what my stepmother did. Should I tell my father and stepsister?

Dear Conflicted,

Conflicted, my ass. In order to be conflicted you’d require an IQ higher than a tablespoon of pureed maggots, or maybe a bicycle tire. I have doubts.

It’s evidently perfectly natural to walk away from a family without said family knowing why. You certainly seem to have just split with no clear explanation when the stepmother – a woman of some import, I am sure, like the one in Cinderella – made a big icky and got you all scared and shit.

In the end, if there is any truth to this story at all, that truth is this: you are an easily manipulated brainless twat of the highest order. You should marry letter writer #1’s husband. Matchmaker, me.

The rest of us are thinking “call your fucking dad, dickless. Unless he’s in a coma, he already knows.”

***

Dear Prudence,

My husband and I enjoy entertaining. We are friends with one couple we include frequently. They are bright, enjoyable people, but they don't know when to leave. They always stay at least a couple of hours after all the other guests have gone. Is it ever appropriate to send guests home? If so, how do I do it? The wife has very strongly held opinions about etiquette—and heaven help anyone who violates her rules!

—Pulling in the Welcome Mat

Dear Welcome,

You are out of order here. If you have a soiree at your place, slated from 5 to 8, you are, first of all, a fucking old man and need to learn how to have a goddamn party, and second a controlling clock-watcher who needs his ass whupped like a bad dog.

The rules of etiquette state:

12.2.0 PARTY OVERTIME: A party may run long for a number of reasons. For instance your guests may be enjoying themselves greatly, and have simply lost track of time. It could be that you, as a host, project a message that you are extending the hours of a particularly successful party. Or perhaps your wife is giving blow jobs in the guest room and some of the male guests are going back for seconds.

Whatever the case, when a party runs late it is considered inappropriate to brusquely shoo the guests to the door in haste: a deft touch is needed. Dropping gentle reminders is acceptable, such as

12.2.0.1“Sorry, Dick, but we need to slow down a bit, as we are rising early in the morning to attend worship.”

12.2.0.2 “My goodness, would you look at the time! I didn’t realize it was so late. I sure hope we aren’t keeping you up too late.”

12.2.0.3“Ted, sorry to rush you, but it’s about time to get your cock out of my wife’s ass. We have a long day tomorrow. Jim, you better finish up right quick, before her jaws tire out, because she bites. Oh, and hello Pete, didn’t see you under there. You almost done too? And hey - you fuckers better be wearing rubbers.”

Summary: When you need to bring your party to a close, gentle reminders are key in ensuring you don’t anger your guests.

The rest of us learned to say “go home, bob, we ran out of fucking beer half an hour ago” years ago, you ninny. If you can’t handle it, let your wife do it. She might be the one who has the balls in the household anyway.

***

It’s really goddamn cold out there (to me, anyway: 17 degrees is as close to intolerable as I can imagine, being from California) and I have to brave the walk down the street to Jimmy John’s for a sandwich, since I forgot to pack my lunch today. There’s still a buncha ice on the sidewalks from the recent weather here, and I have limited experience with that. Pretty funny, watching me penguin-walk my way along. I should YouTube it for you.

Nah.

Happy Friday to you all, my Flysters, until we meet again!

Cheers,
STC =^oo^=