Tag Archives: advice

Delaware self-aware

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Dear Kitty Winn,

I’m a bright, affable gal, and I’d like to think I have a good outlook on life. The only trouble is the incompetent dugongs who surround me, bleating and secreting their sticky juices of mediocrity. Why can’t I find my peers? I don’t think I really am superior to the entire rest of the rest of the world, but where, oh where, can I find my equals?

Desperate in Delaware

Dear Desperate

Like a girl trying to lick a lolly with the wrapper still on, you are going about this all wrong. A bright little pop like yourself is doomed to be surrounded by grunting, lumpen troglodytes. You’d like to think your outlook on life is good, but you’d be wrong. Abandon all hope of being surrounded by your equals, and take pleasure in that very circumstance. Which sounds more well-adjusted to you: “Ugh, everyone in this room is practically unicellular.” or “Hurrah! I am the smartest person here! May my cynical wit and wide variety of fascinating pursuits enlighten the few that scrabble after my words like so many crumbs, and let the rest be crushed in fearful pain and self doubt!” ?

In other words, quit being such a Negative Nelly. Reality, like Emo, is for twerps.

-Kitty Winn

Heartbreak and Halitosis

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Dear Kitty Winn:

I was sitting home alone worrying last night, wondering what to do, when it occurred to me that what I needed was help from a purveyor of tawdry advice. After all, I have a terribly tawdry problem. I can’t seem to get over my ex-girlfriend. I’m beginning to annoy my friends, and even my therapist, by talking about her constantly. I’ve tried the usual techniques — moving to another town, drinking heavily, sleeping around like a two-bit whore– but none of them work. It just feels like additional betrayal: I’m not staying true to the girl I love, and the rebound girl knows what’s going on because I call out the wrong names. I just can’t achieve, how you say, release, without thinking of my lost love and the taste of her sweet, sweet anus. What can I do to get her off my mind? Also, can you recommend any good breath mints?

— Darren Hungus

Darren Hungus, I feel for you. I have been consumed with giving your problem the proper attention. It was hardly off my mind while I was watching a 60’s go-go film and having a Charleston Chew. You pose a difficult question, but without a doubt, use Fisherman’s Friend to expunge the foulness of your mouth. Those babies pack a wallop! Oh right, and your ex-girlfriend…clearly you have let the girl of your dreams slip through your fingers and will never ever be happy again ever.

Never ever.

You could endeavor to be satisfied with your lot, but Kitty Winn believes in setting things right! You don’t have a shred of existence without this woman, so you must dedicate your life to having her back. Write her, call her, lurk beneath her window- don’t let the girl have five seconds in which thoughts of you do not intrude. Give her no rest from professions of your unabated love! Praise her back door beauty! Erect a shanty in front of her door, where you live, unshaven, eating little snack foods and denied fresh air solely for a daily glimpse of her angry face in passing. No woman can resist such romantic heroism- you will be plumming her annals and hating her stupid laugh again in no time!

Good Luck,

Kitty Winn

What’s a gal to do?

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Dear Kitty Winn,

I have not been involved with anyone for a looong time. Before I saddle up and head out again, I wanted to know what sort of girls are “In” these days? Sluts? Power Vixens who talk about the books they read? Cute-n-Dumb? Or maybe Innocent Virtue is back? Please clue me in so I don’t have to waste any time “having opinions” when I ought to be pretending I don’t want sex so I can have some.

Thanks!

-liza jane

Dear Liza Jane,

I’ll tell you what’s in: eating disorders! Hoo, had you there, didn’t I? Don’t fret, my gauche gamine, we’ll have you up and humping in no time, and nary a drip drop of yesterday’s lunch need cross your lips. You see, the secret to love is to have an alter ego. It’s kind of like becoming a super hero. First you need a name, then a costume, then some press coverage, preferably in the form of a slavish internet fan site. I will even give you some ideas for free: Lurid Crimson, Cyan Chlamydia, Lulabelle the Liberated Librarian. Soon the young dandies will come flocking to you, drawn in by the many pictures of your painted pout! The more wigs you wear in your photo shoot the better. Really, you have nothing to lose. It’s not like you’re that much to look at in person anyway!

knock ’em dead,

Kitty Winn

Sit right back and you’ll hear a tale…

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Yes, dear readers, a tale of depravity, rapine, and even VOMITOLA….

I will begin by noting that I am in an upright position today, and rather puffed up with pride about the whole affair. You see, boys and girls, I had what is known in the business as a “sinus and middle ear infection.” That means my head was filled with a noxious goop from stem to stern, and my doctor had a moment of mirth making me try to move my eyes to follow her little light pointer (I turned green and could not oblige, as a simple head moment could have spelled spontaneous spillage!).

So the upshot is that I have a variety of medical miracles at my disposal. I was bucking for an MRI, but I seem to have netted some antibiotics and some anti-nausea stuff which works great except that it puts me to sleep within minutes. So I should have another ten minute window here, do pardon me if I trail off!

And I must say, who knew that 2 days off from work could be so interminably boring? Actually I also left early on Monday as I started dry heaving everytime I looked at the screen. I felt really bad about leaving too, because people had to do some work I was trying to finish. Anyway, I walked home through the Public Garden in kind of a zig-zag pattern. There weren’t any cabs in sight, and I figured barfing in the garden would be nothing new for me, so why despoil the T? I made it all the way up to Louisburg Square. I don’t know how familiar anyone is with that area of Beacon Hill, but it’s sort of a really lame answer to Gramercy Park. There’s about a 30 square foot area of fenced in trees and grass, and some plum parking spots. Only people who live in the nice houses right there may touch the fancy foliage. So of course that’s where the dry heaves took me over!

After that, I teetered back to my house. At least I didn’t get arrested for holding onto the wrought iron PRIVATE fence. An attractive older British fellow asked if I was OK. I wanted to assert that I was not simply a drunken prostitute (a – I was not carrying an umbrella b – we were nowhere NEAR the docks)…but all I could do was mumble something like “mrphhh yeah….”

At any rate, I return triumphantly, er, sort of. At least the room stopped spinning! I think my dr. was disappointed I didn’t have menningitis or something sexier. Thanks to Lambchop for brilliantly holding down the fort in my infirmity. Maybe I should give her Power of Attorney too! Although she’d probably just sign me up for a bunch of magazine subscriptions or government studies.

Also, I exhort you all to make use of the services of Kitty Winn! She’s a firecracker, she’s a pistol, she’s a former Miss Omaha. As you can see, her advice is top-drawer, just like her rack.

xxoo

Fabulous Golden Issue

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Dear Kitty Winn,

I am home sick. The doctor said to drink lots of fluids. But I am getting so tired of my soup recipes. Miso soup, alphabet, broth. ugh! While they are making me feel a little better I think i will vomitola if I look at another hot and sour. Can you recommend a new recipe for me, Miss Kitty Winn?? Please keep in mind I would prefer something vegetarian, and something without miso.

Love,

Sick in So

Dear Sick

My Doctor always recommends the consumption of clear and simple foodstuffs when i am ill- so I opt for things like jell-o and vodka, preferably together, followed by a healthy dose of Manchowder. You will be surprised at how soothing to all parties a good release into your larynx of joy juice can be. It beats a Werthers Original. So take it easy and rest upon your knees. I leave it to you to decide whether accepting a man’s fabulous golden issue is a violation of your vegetarian ethics or not. I suppose it depends on how attractive he is.

get well soon,

Kitty Winn

Ask Kitty Winn!

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Your lives are terrible. You’re lonely, you’re poor, and your hair is doing terrible things. Fret not, Kitty Winn has the answers!

Dear Kitty Winn,

I’ve recently inherited a sum of money. It’s not enough to spend the rest of my days drinking champagne from the navels of painted whores or nothing, but it’s enough for either some short term stupidity or a stab at fiscal responsibility. So I ask you, should I give in to my base urges and blow it all on penny whistles and moon pies, or do I save for a (boring) rainy day? Yes, the economy is uncertain, but the native boys aren’t getting any younger!

Love,

-feckless in rhode island

Dear Feckless,

You are overlooking the obvious. You can do something fun that will also ensure you a lucrative future- Breast Implants! There is nothing like a little unnecessary surgery to provide a girl with frivolous joy. And think of all the fun and career opportunites you will have with a great swinging set of hooters! Yes, fabulous breasts will line your pockets with cash and keep you knee deep in casual sex. Go for the whompin’ ‘taters!

-Kitty Winn

Lambchop wants to Know!

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So I am into medical accessories these days. My newest painting contains what looks like a Liv Tyler fairy on her way to be martyred in a back brace. Which is not a bad idea, really. Anyway, kiddies, your humble servant Lambchop does love realism and is taking a break from the studio hunched over this keyboard with ribs wrapped excruciatingly tightly in bandages. I feel like I am under 6 feet of mud. My advice to you- never break anything if you can help it.

But it’s not all about me me me. I have also been hard at work on an investigation that will benefit you, Dear Readers as well. I have composed the following letter to that all knowing sexpert, Dan Savage . It reads:

Dear Dan

My friend wants to put me in an empty bathtub and pour bottle after bottle of champagne over me. To which I would happily consent, but I fear injury to my tender bits when sitting in all that alcohol. And though I hate to repeat unsubstantiated lore, I even heard *somewhere* that Natalie Wood ended up in a hospital after springing into just such a cocktail.

So, Dan, help a young floozy out- is this risky business or can we pop our corks and have at it?

-drink me

I am chewing on my pencil waiting for his snappy reply. In the meantime, if any of our Dear Sweet Adorable-as-a-Puppy Readers have some relevant input, please feel free to share. You will remain anonymous unless otherwise specified, much like the dockworkers Lickety and I sell favors to on weekends.

Separating the Havrilesky’s from the have-nots

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Yes, store write us! We are full of opinions and inapplicable anecdotes! We are full of malarkey! We like exclamation points!!!!

So I got brand new teeth today. I am going to go out first thing and have a steak and an apple and a blo pop, help preferably all balled up in a crunchy, sticky, sinewy mass. Thank you, teeth, though i shall miss the gumjobs!

(in case you just tuned in, i had an accident involving some marbles, a pair of skates, and a semi. That will teach me to perform roadside slapstick!)

smooch

I love the big ones says kathy sally thinks.

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I get the best spam ever. If that subject line doesn’t entice one to read on, whatever will? I guess my second choice would have to be “26 pics of teen girls getting ass reamed in the ass.” I applaud that for both specificity and redundancy.

Say, Lambchop, thanks for reminding me of MLK day! I just realized I shot my Black People Love Us wad a day too early! Silly me! I suppose I should cast about for a Little Black Sambo fan site or something to make up for it, but I fear public outcry. Speaking of the public, should we post email addresses? I would love to get some reader mail going, maybe some problems we could publicly address!

Sample letter:

Dear Lambchop and Licketysplit,

I’m torn, befuddled, and perplexed! My boyfriend wants nothing but anal sex. And I know I’m supposed to be *gay,* but it just doesn’t do it for me! What should I do?

signed,

Scaredy Cat

Sample response:

Dear Puss In Boots,

You should do what we always do: Poppers! Failing that, try to strike a balance of the finer things in life. Take some time out in your relationship to try a new flavor of iced tea, or listen to that new Starbucks Jazz CD compilation. Lambchop has been known to loosen up by rearranging her living room, perhaps trying a new fabric softener. And I like to achieve ultimate relaxation by arranging my book jackets by color. Soon you’ll be but a puddle of a man, ready to trip trop the anal staircase. And should you feel any trepidation, lie back and think of the Snuggle Bear! Ease into the rooting and tooting, you’ll learn to love it as much as we have.

xxoo

L & L

So come on readers, dial us up on the ol’ interweb! We are here to help!

xxoo