Dear Agony Aunt...

[Guest]

 

[Guest]

i so know what you mean...
but still
she has a point. ill try to be nicer to ya Darnoel.. *vomit*

 

[Guest]

i so know what you mean...
but still
she has a point. ill try to be nicer to ya Darnoel.. *vomit*

That's funny babe.



EEEEeeewwwww!!!! I got some on me.

 

[Guest]

Vela dont be confuzed because he really is a nice person and I am a nice person too we get along really well but I could never do things with him because he is like my brouther and well I could never be that way with my brother. But really you shouldn't be means about it either because he is good and when you talk like that it makes me sad so try to be a good person. Maybe we can work on a story together because Ive read your stories and I think that they are all very funny and you make me laugh alot Darnoel has helped me alot with my spelling and periods. I know we could do fun toteher

Debbie

Debster
i dont think i would be able to keep up with your sense of ... humor... or your grammar... or your spelling. its hard enough to wade through my own mistakes. id love your comments though and ill be happy to lend an ear if you have some ideas if you would like to, but other than that, im afraid i cant commit at this juncture, wouldnt be prudent.

 

[OzSteamer]

Hi doormouse, OH, sorry...Agony Aunt, I should say!

Hey Oz!![

That's ME!

You sexy stud muffin.

Looks around...AHHHH, it's the wetsuit, yeeesss, you gals ARE attracted to guys in rubber, eh?



BLUSH, Now Agony Aunt...no getting frisky in consultation hours!!

 

[OzSteamer]

Hiya Agony Aunt

She sounds perfectly normal to me, what's the problem?

The problem is she keeps bruising herself every time she falls off the chair...HONEST, it isn't me paddling her rump that's causing the bruises!

I'd suggest hand and ankle cuffs to fix the falling out of the chair thingy...

Tried that and she now just sits there and moans an awful lot...(quote) " Oh, yes, oh, yes, oh, PLEASE yes, oh, please, oh, oh, oh OH, OHOH,OH,OH, OH, YES, OH YES OH GAWD, yes, oh, yes"

And it's getting a spot noisy...her OTHER clients think there's something strange going on in her office every time I visit, And the seretary is giving me weird looks...even MORE weird than before , I mean.

WHAT CAN I DO, AGONY, AUNT!?!?!?!

honey and a wetsuit? Ooo sounds yummy... go get 'em!!



You get to lick up afterwards, hee hee!

 

[OzSteamer]

Dear Agony Aunt

I've been having a discussion with Ginger Dom at the Lit bar, and we've been talking about the famour Indian mystic and political figure Mahtma Ghandi and his life and work.

Now, he walked everywhere, so it seems he had some very well calloused feet, and his health was never terribly good.

This was - in some way, I suppose - connected to his odd diet which gave him bad breath.

My contention is that this made Mahatma Ghandi a Super Calloused, Fragile Mystic, Hexed With Halitosis...what do you think?

I could get killed fer my puns!

 

[OzSteamer]

Dear Agony Aunt: you inspire me to poetry!

He killed the noble mudjokivi
Of the skin he had him mittens
Made then with the furside outside
Made them with the skin side inside.
He, to get the warm side inside
Put the inside skinside outside
He to get the cold side out side,
Put the warmside furside inside.
That's why he put the furside inside
Why he put the skinside outside
Why he turned them inside outside

(the Modern Hiawatha)

 

[RebeccaLeah]

Dear friend of Lost in a Timewarp,

There's an old adage, 'Everything improves with age'. Don't believe it!!

A 548 year age difference? Ever seen a month old banana? Let alone a 548 year old one!! Compost comes to mind.

Unless your friend likes to have her neck sucked, I'd suggest buying her a huge dildo (unless she has a thing for soggy, wrinkled and saggy bananas).

Do her a favor and switch her perfume with garlic oil to keep the fanged one at bay.

Dear Agony Aunt,
Thank you. I guess I'll buy her a bunch of old bananas and take her out for Italian food for a week straight. I was thinking of alerting the local vampire slayers anyway. Maybe I'll get her a pretty necklace with a cross too.
*hugs*
Friend of Lost in a Timewarp

 

[doormouse]

Dear Agony Aunt: you inspire me to poetry!

He killed the noble mudjokivi
Of the skin he had him mittens
Made then with the furside outside
Made them with the skin side inside.
He, to get the warm side inside
Put the inside skinside outside
He to get the cold side out side,
Put the warmside furside inside.
That's why he put the furside inside
Why he put the skinside outside
Why he turned them inside outside

(the Modern Hiawatha)

I'm blind!!

inside, outside, what about blindside?

side side side side side side side side side side side side side side
side side side side side side side side side side side side side side
side side side side side side side side side side side side side side
side side side side side side side side side side side side side side
side side side side side side side side side side side side side side
side side side side side side side side side side side side side side

Sui(side) comes to mind LOL

 

[Don K Dyck]

Dear Agony Aunt,

Yesterday the decrepit little liar that poses as Prim Monster called an election, seeking power for the Liberal Party for another three years. My brother, who is the local liberal Party branch secretary had been hinting at this election date for some time. But enough of politics because yesterday my family was all in a whirl.

My father was run down by a concrete mixing truck and broke nearly all the bones in his body. He was crossing the road from the town apartment where he had discovered my mother in bed with the milkman, going fot it nineteen to the dozen and yelling fit to shame a Banshee. He had gone to the apartment after being diagnosed with advanced siphlis.

Now my mother doesn't know that the milkman is her cousin by her first husband, and that he was diagnosed with HIV/AIDS last week

MY sister has gone on the game to support her heroin habit and spent the last weekend being repeatedly ravaged by the local football team. We found her at the hospital receiving attention when they brought in Dad.

Then my gf adds to the confusion by demanding to get married because she is pregnant to the guy next door who she had seduced during a wild coke party last month.

Now Agony Aunt, the problem is that my gf doesn't know my family very well . . . do you think we should tell her about my brother's political fetish?

 

[doormouse]

Dear Agony Aunt,

Yesterday the decrepit little liar that poses as Prim Monster called an election, seeking power for the Liberal Party for another three years. My brother, who is the local liberal Party branch secretary had been hinting at this election date for some time. But enough of politics because yesterday my family was all in a whirl.

My father was run down by a concrete mixing truck and broke nearly all the bones in his body. He was crossing the road from the town apartment where he had discovered my mother in bed with the milkman, going fot it nineteen to the dozen and yelling fit to shame a Banshee. He had gone to the apartment after being diagnosed with advanced siphlis.

Now my mother doesn't know that the milkman is her cousin by her first husband, and that he was diagnosed with HIV/AIDS last week

MY sister has gone on the game to support her heroin habit and spent the last weekend being repeatedly ravaged by the local football team. We found her at the hospital receiving attention when they brought in Dad.

Then my gf adds to the confusion by demanding to get married because she is pregnant to the guy next door who she had seduced during a wild coke party last month.

Now Agony Aunt, the problem is that my gf doesn't know my family very well . . . do you think we should tell her about my brother's political fetish?

I feel so cheap

political fetish?

He told me it was a furry rodent fetish

Ahh the g/f. Introduce her to your brother. The bastard must pay!!

 

[Virtual_Burlesque]

Postmark: NY, NY 8-30-04 09:21:11 AM

Dear Auntie Agony,



At last I am free!

Well, relatively free, at any rate. Let me explain to you what has happened.

I found out who my helper was, and why she was helping me.

Sometime after midnight, between employers, a woman crept into my room. She introduced herself to me as Mrs. Jacobi — Lawyer Jacobi’s second wife. It was she who had prepared my meals, and it was she who forwarded my mail, but I didn’t learn that until later.

Judy Jacobi cautioned me to ignore her presence, then hid in an empty closet. I must have dozed off, because when Lawyer Jacobi slipped through my door to take his place in the rotation of my employers, I had forgotten his wife’s presence there.

Finding it, as always, disconcerting to observe the lawyer’s twitchy rat-face looming above me, I closed my eyes. Upon reopening them, I spied Mrs. Jacobi in the background, busily operating a Nikon camera.

It seems that she was gathering evidence against her husband to set aside the prenuptial agreement she had signed before becoming Mrs. The Second. For her assistance, I have agreed to act as correspondent at their divorce, if the photos of last night are not enough to convince the lawyer to cough up decent-sized alimony payments.

Then, Mrs. Jacobi sneaked me down to the kitchen, where she provided me with a plastic raincoat to cover my nudity, and let me out the back door.

I had been curious where my other employers were, and whether they would come after me, but Judy explained that they had already departed, leaving me to their attorney.

“You are certain they won’t be back?” I asked, still not believing they would simply leave after all the money and effort they had invested.

“Quite certain,” Judy had insisted. “Not only were they exhausted from all the unusual exercise they had been getting, but none of them wanted to miss any more of the convention.”

“Convention?” I exclaimed, unaware that any conventions were in town.

“Yes, they have a contact who claims to know who to see about Alaskan drilling rights.”

“Oh?” I inquired, “Who do they want to fuck in Alaska?”

Judy shushed me, urging me to leave quickly, which I did.

Still, I wish she would have answered my question. Usually we know all about any conventions in town, at Joe’s Bar & Grill & Bar, but I hadn’t heard a word. I wonder what sort of convention they were going to attend? They certainly didn’t look anything like Shriners!

I put on Judy’s raincoat to conceal my nudity, then crept out into the dark and rainy city.

I had several adventures while traveling back to my e-bode wearing only a clear plastic raincoat, but that is another story.

Upon arriving home, I found a letter advising me that my presence would be required on Friday. My trial before the Grand Jury for one count of bribery and two counts of sexual misconduct would take place then.

What troubles me now is, should I put myself back into the hands of Lawyer Jacobi, should I try to find another attorney, should I go into court unrepresented, or should I skip bail and go on the lamb?

Your advice would be appreciated.



Your Unstrung Heroine
(Still Hanging On By A Thread.)



P. S.: Traveling through the darkened, back alleys of the rain-drenched city, clothed in nothing but a clear plastic raincoat, I felt completely exposed without the security of my lucky G-string. Can you suggest any way that I might recover it?

 

[OzSteamer]

P. S.: Traveling through the darkened, back alleys of the rain-drenched city, clothed in nothing but a clear plastic raincoat, I felt completely exposed without the security of my lucky G-string. Can you suggest any way that I might recover it?

AHHH, that's EASY: wear a wetsuit!!!

 

[Virtual_Burlesque]

That pun was

SO BAD

nobody except

Virtual_Burlesque

would stoop to use it!

 

[doormouse]

Postmark: NY, NY 8-30-04 09:21:11 AM

Dear Auntie Agony,



At last I am free!

Well, relatively free, at any rate. Let me explain to you what has happened.

I found out who my helper was, and why she was helping me.

Sometime after midnight, between employers, a woman crept into my room. She introduced herself to me as Mrs. Jacobi — Lawyer Jacobi’s second wife. It was she who had prepared my meals, and it was she who forwarded my mail, but I didn’t learn that until later.

Judy Jacobi cautioned me to ignore her presence, then hid in an empty closet. I must have dozed off, because when Lawyer Jacobi slipped through my door to take his place in the rotation of my employers, I had forgotten his wife’s presence there.

Finding it, as always, disconcerting to observe the lawyer’s twitchy rat-face looming above me, I closed my eyes. Upon reopening them, I spied Mrs. Jacobi in the background, busily operating a Nikon camera.

It seems that she was gathering evidence against her husband to set aside the prenuptial agreement she had signed before becoming Mrs. The Second. For her assistance, I have agreed to act as correspondent at their divorce, if the photos of last night are not enough to convince the lawyer to cough up decent-sized alimony payments.

Then, Mrs. Jacobi sneaked me down to the kitchen, where she provided me with a plastic raincoat to cover my nudity, and let me out the back door.

I had been curious where my other employers were, and whether they would come after me, but Judy explained that they had already departed, leaving me to their attorney.

“You are certain they won’t be back?” I asked, still not believing they would simply leave after all the money and effort they had invested.

“Quite certain,” Judy had insisted. “Not only were they exhausted from all the unusual exercise they had been getting, but none of them wanted to miss any more of the convention.”

“Convention?” I exclaimed, unaware that any conventions were in town.

“Yes, they have a contact who claims to know who to see about Alaskan drilling rights.”

“Oh?” I inquired, “Who do they want to fuck in Alaska?”

Judy shushed me, urging me to leave quickly, which I did.

Still, I wish she would have answered my question. Usually we know all about any conventions in town, at Joe’s Bar & Grill & Bar, but I hadn’t heard a word. I wonder what sort of convention they were going to attend? They certainly didn’t look anything like Shriners!

I put on Judy’s raincoat to conceal my nudity, then crept out into the dark and rainy city.

I had several adventures while traveling back to my e-bode wearing only a clear plastic raincoat, but that is another story.

Upon arriving home, I found a letter advising me that my presence would be required on Friday. My trial before the Grand Jury for one count of bribery and two counts of sexual misconduct would take place then.

What troubles me now is, should I put myself back into the hands of Lawyer Jacobi, should I try to find another attorney, should I go into court unrepresented, or should I skip bail and go on the lamb?

Your advice would be appreciated.



Your Unstrung Heroine
(Still Hanging On By A Thread.)



P. S.: Traveling through the darkened, back alleys of the rain-drenched city, clothed in nothing but a clear plastic raincoat, I felt completely exposed without the security of my lucky G-string. Can you suggest any way that I might recover it?

Far be it for me to critique on attire, but a clear plastic raincoat?

I thought those things died out with Doris Day

I suggest a total fashion make-over!! How do you expect to keep the sugar daddies happy in that (shit) plastic wrap?

disappointed

Edited to add: at least you didn't have panties on (wiping brow)

 

[the_last_rites]

dear agony aunt, i need to know if i will ever get my fat n mature aunt???

 

[doormouse]

dear agony aunt, i need to know if i will ever get my fat n mature aunt???

You mean 'large' and 'sexy' aunt, I presume.

I need more details for a proper analysis.

Have you at least flirted with her?

 

[OzSteamer]

Dear Agony Aren't...

I be a pirate-in-th'-plannin'...

Harrgggh, harrrgh, harrgh, me hearties!

I plan ter run me colours up yer mast, me lady, and plunder, pilliage, loot and occasionally seduce in yer name if that be OK?

Why? Well, I have hankerin' fer a life at sea, and besides, the guvermint has the LAND all sowed up...

What advice can yer give an apprentice Pirate?

Pucebeard the Pirate WELL, it sounded better than Diahorrea Yellowbeard, or or Baby-poo-brown beard...

 

[doormouse]

Dear Agony Aren't...

I be a pirate-in-th'-plannin'...

Harrgggh, harrrgh, harrgh, me hearties!

I plan ter run me colours up yer mast, me lady, and plunder, pilliage, loot and occasionally seduce in yer name if that be OK?

Why? Well, I have hankerin' fer a life at sea, and besides, the guvermint has the LAND all sowed up...

What advice can yer give an apprentice Pirate?

Pucebeard the Pirate WELL, it sounded better than Diahorrea Yellowbeard, or or Baby-poo-brown beard...

Dear Pucebeard the Pirate,

You ask if it is okay to seduce in my name? What ever happened to the good ol' days where pirates would capture and devour us fair maidens? *sigh*

I'd be working on the dialogue too

If you get a parrot, make sure it's toilet trained

(wouldn't want to be walking around with parrot shit down your back)

Ask pop LOL

 

[Virtual_Burlesque]

Postmark: NY, NY 9-01-04 05:57:43 PM

Dear Auntie Agony,


I have spent the last two days hiding in my e-bode awaiting a message from you, Auntie Agony. Imagine my chagrin when I received your latest note offering me fashion tips!

Not only were those tips inappropriate to someone in my condition, but they did not accurately describe my situation. To liken my fashion faux pas to Doris Day in some romantic comedy movie romp, is to fail, dismally to appreciate my situation. Compare me rather to Joanna Cassidy crashing through plate glass windows in effort to escape Harrison Ford in Blade Runner, and you will be closer to the truth. It seems that you have little imagination or appreciation for my condition, during my nocturnal perambulations through a city teeming with depravity.

Now that I have had time to consider the matter, I recall that little of your advice has been of any demonstrable good to me. In fact, some was quite the contrary. Who suggested that I try to reach a mutually beneficial agreement with Sargent Murphy? Who suggested that possession of multiple Sugar Daddies would be superior to attaching a single one?

Maybe I am Unwise in soliciting your advice, but I will give you one last chance to redeem yourself.

After receiving your latest letter, I crept over to Joe’s Bar & Grill & Bar to see if I could pry my last week’s salary from between his avariciously grasping digits. I should have known better. Joe swore that until the present pay period ended this Friday, he owed me nothing. Even then, he was only obliged to pay my usual salary, minus pay for those days that I had missed work. Unless I was prepared to immediately resume my duties, he would consider this my official resignation, and withhold my last two-week pay in leu of notice.

I tried to explain the situation I was in, but Joe was adamant. He cared little that I need to hide from a group of randy financiers who want me back to fulfill an illegal contract. He cared even less that there was a lawyer preparing to garnishee my wages as we spoke, to pay for services that I had never authorized. Finally, he betrayed no concern that I must dodge the law to evade imprisonment for a simple costume malfunction that wasn’t my fault, as well as a bribery charge that wasn’t my idea.

“That will teach you,” The Reverend declared, gleefully.

The Reverend, I should mention, is a regular patron of JB&G&B who spends nearly every waking hour on the premises, sitting at a center table drinking and ogling the performers. Between performances, he spends his time hectoring the girls about their heathen existence, tempting decent men with their sinful bodies. Nobody pays him much mind. If he becomes too vociferous, someone hands him a whiskey and he shuts right up.

“Instead of gathering with an aggregation of loose women, shedding your garments and waggling your naked tuchus beneath the noses of your betters, you should be attending a business college, where you might learn telephone answering or typewriting. Then, perhaps you could get a decent job.”

Sam, the bartender, handed The Reverend a shot of Three Feathers saying, “Gee, that’s too bad, Burley. We’re going to miss you. Of all the girls who take their clothes off around here, you’re the only one who always seems sincere.”

On that encomium, Sam changed topics, “By the way, a fellow stopped by yesterday looking for you. He said he represented the DA’s office. You’re to make an appointment to see Assistant District Attorney Doggett, as soon as possible.”

I let out a groan.

“Bad news?” Sam inquired.

I told him I never got any other kind lately, and left JB&G&B to return home.

I’ve decided that there is nothing more I can do. Ever since my lucky G-string disappeared, my life has been on an unbroken downward spiral. I might just as well hear the bad news and get it over with.

Tomorrow morning, I’ll make that appointment with Assistant District Attorney Doggett, and take my medicine. But that obviously means court, which means I’ll need a lawyer.

For one last time, I am asking your advice.

Should I contact Lawyer Jacobi, even though that might cause additional problems? If his wife Judy has already served him with papers for their divorce, perhaps his heart won’t truly be in my defense.

Should I rather accept a court-appointed lawyer, even though they may not be especially qualified?

Or, should I take every valuable in my apartment to a pawnshop, then, as soon as I have met Assistant DA Doggett, hop a bus for parts unknown?

I am very serious. I am at my wit’s end. Do not fail me!

I have no idea what I should be doing tonight, and — tra-laa-laa-laa tra-laa-laa-lee — I don’t know what will happen tomorrow.



Your (Fully) Unstrung Heroine.


P. S. The only reason why I don’t take French leave before my meeting with Assistant District Attorney Doggett, is because, every second longer that I remain in town, is one more second to hope that I might recover my lucky G-string.

 

[Lord DragonsWing]

Dear Aunt Agony,

I'm at a loss here. I'm trying to decide which goes better dripped over your lover. I love fruit and I love cheese. Is there a good combination that you recommend? Shall I just stay with the pizza drippings of mozzarella?

I personally love raspberries but I'm not sure what they would go with. Since Julia Child has left us I'm at a loss for culinary hints. Oooohhhhhhhhhh I'm so confused.

Strawberries with Swiss? Blackberries with Monterey Jack? Help me Aunt Agony.

 

[doormouse]

Dear Aunt Agony,

I'm at a loss here. I'm trying to decide which goes better dripped over your lover. I love fruit and I love cheese. Is there a good combination that you recommend? Shall I just stay with the pizza drippings of mozzarella?

I personally love raspberries but I'm not sure what they would go with. Since Julia Child has left us I'm at a loss for culinary hints. Oooohhhhhhhhhh I'm so confused.

Strawberries with Swiss? Blackberries with Monterey Jack? Help me Aunt Agony.

Dear Oooohhhhhhh so confused,

Stick with some bland cheese and use her navel for fondue. With long slow licks, you can clean up the chocolate once you're done. You can also use strawberries.

Have fun.

 

[Lord DragonsWing]

Dear Oooohhhhhhh so confused,

Stick with some bland cheese and use her navel for fondue. With long slow licks, you can clean up the chocolate once you're done. You can also use strawberries.

Have fun.

Chocolate?

Now I'm really confused Aunt Agony. Shall I mix chocolate with berries and cheese? Please, I'm lost without Julia Childs. The Food Network avoids this subject. Emeril just yells BAM as he adds garlic to a dish. Can you give me some recipes?

 

[doormouse]

Postmark: NY, NY 9-01-04 05:57:43 PM

Dear Auntie Agony,


I have spent the last two days hiding in my e-bode awaiting a message from you, Auntie Agony. Imagine my chagrin when I received your latest note offering me fashion tips!

Not only were those tips inappropriate to someone in my condition, but they did not accurately describe my situation. To liken my fashion faux pas to Doris Day in some romantic comedy movie romp, is to fail, dismally to appreciate my situation. Compare me rather to Joanna Cassidy crashing through plate glass windows in effort to escape Harrison Ford in Blade Runner, and you will be closer to the truth. It seems that you have little imagination or appreciation for my condition, during my nocturnal perambulations through a city teeming with depravity.

Now that I have had time to consider the matter, I recall that little of your advice has been of any demonstrable good to me. In fact, some was quite the contrary. Who suggested that I try to reach a mutually beneficial agreement with Sargent Murphy? Who suggested that possession of multiple Sugar Daddies would be superior to attaching a single one?

Maybe I am Unwise in soliciting your advice, but I will give you one last chance to redeem yourself.

After receiving your latest letter, I crept over to Joe’s Bar & Grill & Bar to see if I could pry my last week’s salary from between his avariciously grasping digits. I should have known better. Joe swore that until the present pay period ended this Friday, he owed me nothing. Even then, he was only obliged to pay my usual salary, minus pay for those days that I had missed work. Unless I was prepared to immediately resume my duties, he would consider this my official resignation, and withhold my last two-week pay in leu of notice.

I tried to explain the situation I was in, but Joe was adamant. He cared little that I need to hide from a group of randy financiers who want me back to fulfill an illegal contract. He cared even less that there was a lawyer preparing to garnishee my wages as we spoke, to pay for services that I had never authorized. Finally, he betrayed no concern that I must dodge the law to evade imprisonment for a simple costume malfunction that wasn’t my fault, as well as a bribery charge that wasn’t my idea.

“That will teach you,” The Reverend declared, gleefully.

The Reverend, I should mention, is a regular patron of JB&G&B who spends nearly every waking hour on the premises, sitting at a center table drinking and ogling the performers. Between performances, he spends his time hectoring the girls about their heathen existence, tempting decent men with their sinful bodies. Nobody pays him much mind. If he becomes too vociferous, someone hands him a whiskey and he shuts right up.

“Instead of gathering with an aggregation of loose women, shedding your garments and waggling your naked tuchus beneath the noses of your betters, you should be attending a business college, where you might learn telephone answering or typewriting. Then, perhaps you could get a decent job.”

Sam, the bartender, handed The Reverend a shot of Three Feathers saying, “Gee, that’s too bad, Burley. We’re going to miss you. Of all the girls who take their clothes off around here, you’re the only one who always seems sincere.”

On that encomium, Sam changed topics, “By the way, a fellow stopped by yesterday looking for you. He said he represented the DA’s office. You’re to make an appointment to see Assistant District Attorney Doggett, as soon as possible.”

I let out a groan.

“Bad news?” Sam inquired.

I told him I never got any other kind lately, and left JB&G&B to return home.

I’ve decided that there is nothing more I can do. Ever since my lucky G-string disappeared, my life has been on an unbroken downward spiral. I might just as well hear the bad news and get it over with.

Tomorrow morning, I’ll make that appointment with Assistant District Attorney Doggett, and take my medicine. But that obviously means court, which means I’ll need a lawyer.

For one last time, I am asking your advice.

Should I contact Lawyer Jacobi, even though that might cause additional problems? If his wife Judy has already served him with papers for their divorce, perhaps his heart won’t truly be in my defense.

Should I rather accept a court-appointed lawyer, even though they may not be especially qualified?

Or, should I take every valuable in my apartment to a pawnshop, then, as soon as I have met Assistant DA Doggett, hop a bus for parts unknown?

I am very serious. I am at my wit’s end. Do not fail me!

I have no idea what I should be doing tonight, and — tra-laa-laa-laa tra-laa-laa-lee — I don’t know what will happen tomorrow.



Your (Fully) Unstrung Heroine.


P. S. The only reason why I don’t take French leave before my meeting with Assistant District Attorney Doggett, is because, every second longer that I remain in town, is one more second to hope that I might recover my lucky G-string.

Should I contact Lawyer Jacobi, even though that might cause additional problems? If his wife Judy has already served him with papers for their divorce, perhaps his heart won’t truly be in my defense.

For a simple exposure charge, I am finding your treatment exceptionally unreasonable. For legal advice, I highly recommend contacting him. Grounds for suing are evident here, thus freeing you of your obligations to the few sugar daddies left for your random usage.

Or, should I take every valuable in my apartment to a pawnshop, then, as soon as I have met Assistant DA Doggett, hop a bus for parts unknown?

This is confusing me. Exactly what did your sugar daddies give you in return for sexual favours? I was guessing a few material possessions in the least, along with lavish dinners and the essential faux fur coat. If anything, these items would be of some substantial value unless you sold yourself to these leeches for less?

As for leaving for parts unknown, I feel strongly that you should contact Jacobi and have him represent you and sue the state for negligence.

P. S. The only reason why I don’t take French leave before my meeting with Assistant District Attorney Doggett, is because, every second longer that I remain in town, is one more second to hope that I might recover my lucky G-string.

I'm guessing your lucky G-string was unwashed and by now is being used by a corner window washer to clean bugs off car windows. I suggest you invest in a new thong and write the other one as missing in action.

AA.