The Bountiful Vault of Mary True

Life would be even less fair if there was no place to store the gems of Mary’s faithful. Tut tut, here you are. Read. Weep. Laugh. Sob. I know Mary has. If you find that you can’t stand the pain anymore, tell Mary all about it.

Dear Mary True,
My husband and I were at a party this weekend and I fell in love with this extremely attractive woman. I don't know what to do! I love my husband, and am definitely not a lesbian. I have kissed one woman before (with my husband watching) but I still desire men. Could I be bi-sexual? Anyway, the real problem is how do I have the best of both worlds - a beautiful woman and a wonderful man? It may end up to be nothing, because she lives too far away, but I can't take my mind off her!
Signed,
Lesbian Lust in Florida

Luscious Lesbian (is there any other name?)-
You do not have to be a lesbian to become infatuated with a woman. Lesbians may kill me on this one, but lesbian sex is nothing more than stepping outside of yourself and masturbating like you have never masturbated before. As scrumptious as this sounds, there are things that may be missing (like one big thing), and unfortunately, it may leave you a little cold. However, and this is a BIG however, technology is a wonderful, beautiful, delicious thing (battery powered and otherwise). And you did mention she lives far away. In cases such as these, an on-line relationship just may come into powerful play. Cybersex, naughty emails-not to mention a few nudie pics. I suggest you get a Polaroid (I never leave home without mine) and get creative. You may just be in for a hot time in the old time. Just make sure that your hubby does not divorce you over this...somehow, I do not think it will be a big issue. Men have fueled the porn industry with fantasies like this. As for your possible bi-sexuality...ahhhhh, perhaps. But you say you love men first. A woman can certainly appreciate another (one of the benefits of being female). I would say you have a little streak of it in you, but it is nothing to worry about. It is just a little streak, but it is enough to explore. Go forth. Conquer-just get permission first.
Anticipations rising,
Mary True

Mary True, Trapeze Artiste-
How right you are. I intend to obliterate this new assistant directly and without regard for its sycophantic simpering.
The cream corn dish sounds simply lovely. I intend to also purchase some Dr. Pepper and Moon Pies for dessert and a case of Pabst as a *bonne nuit* to wash down the whole affair. (This calls to mind a fine young citizen I had the good fortune to encounter one day. she had an India ink tattoo of the Pabst logo emblazoned across her back. Bless her.)
With any luck my neighbor will not interpret my newfound enthusiasm for his bejeweled dentures as some sort of invitation or swinger innuendo.
There's just something so incredibly right about the notion that our country is being defended by jets fueled, much like the pilots that steer them, by meat, potato, stewed carrot, etc. Ah, the symmetry. I suppose my lack of military service has kept me in the dark on some things (for instance, what's the deal with that white camouflage?)
A riddle:
1) If you have a bar celebrating its fiftieth anniversary, with a capacity of, oh, 200 or so, under extraordinarily warm conditions, in an urban area not generally known for its nightlife, with approximately 500 people seeking entry, of which 60 people claim to be in the bands which are performing, 100 people claim to be close personal friends of the bartender whose name they cannot remember right now, 300 having some connection with the person letting their friends slip through the side door, 20 claiming to be television newspeople, 15 with multiple personality disorder, and 5 members of the national security council; how many parking tickets will have been written by the time the DJ gets around to spinning that lounge cover of "Hot for Teacher"?
Yours in puzzlement,
Rubik's Lube

Rowdy Rubik’s,
It doesn’t matter. Little do they know that they only have hours to live. Someone slipped Orange Crush in the beer.
Love,
Mary True
PS-and RC Cola is the Only acceptable complement to the Moon Pie. Accept no substitutes.

To Mary True, Attorney-at-Law:
Accustomed as I am to being at the bottom of the corporate ladder, fighting for scraps under the table with my fellow proles as the corporate Cossacks fire their cost/benefit analysis death rays (or perhaps it would be more apropos to say manlicher-carcano bolt-action rifles, given that the corporation still embraces office technology such as carbon paper and typewriters which come with their own suitcases - but I digress) upon us, I find myself in a most unusual situation indeed. Hark: I have been given an assistant.
I'm sure you can detect, in your omniscience, where this epistle is going. I'm not sure how to handle an assistant as in many respects I am an assistant myself. Should I abuse this eager young soul? Should I slap this worker bee around the office until the green turns to the proper somber ashen-grey seen on the countenances of countless spokes in the corporate wheel (and if you think that's a mixed metaphor, just wait until I take the flask out of my desk and REALLY get going)? Or shall I coddle this naive newcomer? Your counsel, please, should you deem me worthy. And to continue for but a moment, I have a few quick items that perhaps you can also be of some assistance with:

1) I have at home a lovely bottle of Chateau Y Cain, from a very good year, and am wondering what dish might best go with. I'm eager to open the bottle but want to be sure that the accompanying spread is equal to this fine vintage. Suggestions? Recipes?
2) My neighbor has gold teeth, and keeps taking them out, insisting that I hold them in my hand to properly appreciate their luster and their heft. Is it rude to refuse my hand? Would it be ungrateful to first equip myself with a set of surgical gloves?
3) I noticed a man driving a baby blue Delta 88 the other day, and on the seat was a large can of Dinty Moore beef stew. I'm concerned about the environmental hazards such a venture may present. Should I have stopped him and implored him to transport his gravy-laden offal in amore secure vehicle, such as a tanker or perhaps a Wells Fargo truck? This has caused some sleepless nights, as I am nothing if not at one with the earth.
Too fast, too fast for love,
Nikki Sixx

Nibelung Nikki,
The only way one ever gets ahead in life is to crush those in, on, around, or within 100 feet of your path. This includes assistants. Assistants are nothing but leeches in wait for the next blood source. Pour salt over this miserable being before it is too late. Otherwise, you will look behind you one day to find your own tail in a shriveled, dehydrated crispy mass.
Now for your other inquiries:

1) Get a 9 X 9 baking pan with about 3 inches of depth. In a separate pan, fry up about 3 pounds of ground beef until brown. Line 9 X 9 pan with ground beef. Pour creamed corn over beef in a second layer. Whip up some instant mashed potatoes and spread over the creamed corn in a third layer. Throw this in a 350 degree oven and bake for about 30-35 minutes, or until there is a light brown crust on the top of the mashed potatoes. This is a delicacy in many families that keep major household appliances and overturned furniture on their front lawns. Serves 5. Enjoy.
2) As for your friend with the teeth. Act so taken by these teeth that you stare, pasty faced and wide eyed each time he shared them with you. Repeatedly ask if you may borrow them for the evening-you want to impress your girlfriend with them. Wink at this neighbor, elbow him lightly in the ribs and say, “With these choppers, I can get me a little sompthin’ sompthin’ if ya know what I mean.” Slobber a bit when you say this and look excited. I guarantee that these gold teeth will never be shared with you again.
3) Don’t be silly. Dinty Moore beef stew has had a major impact on our fine county’s safety. What do you think fuels those B-52 Bombers? Jet fuel? No way, buddy. They are Dinty-Powered. The notion that jet fuel is involved is just another government cover up.
Shouting at the devil,
Mary True

Sweet Sweet Mary,
Recently my prostate has been acting up. It makes these weird sounds in the night. They go "gurgle gurgle" and "whann, whann". I am concerned. My girlfriend thinks I'm strange and won't sleep over any more. If fact, she has rebuffed my last two invitations to go out for pistachio ice cream. What if my friends hear about my problem? Will I be ostracized? Will I be hunted down like a rabid boar and shot? Has my life come to an end? Please tell me how I should proceed.
Mr. Problematic Prostate

Plangent Prostate,
With the state of synthesized pop music today, I think the world needs some innovative acoustics. You, my peculiar friend, have such a gift. Get yourself some denim pants and a silver guitar. Then politely ask the ladies if they will kindly call you sir. You will have to keep your self respect or you’ll never be a star, because there are just two songs in you boy, and you’ll have to write a third.
Ear pressed to the jukebox,
Mary True

Dear Mary:
I am consistently dreaming of sexual escapades in crowded, urine-soaked public toilets. I am usually in socks only, and horribly preoccupied with whether or not they too are becoming urine soaked. What do you think this means?
Also, do you have recurring dreams, and if so, about what?
Your comrade,
Lalita St. Shoe

Soulmate Lalita,
It means you probably cannot live without listening to other people’s woes. I used to have the same dream, but thanks to you good-hearted folks, they have ceased. Why don’t you try an advice column of your own? Now instead of focusing on sick little dreams, you can feel relief knowing that comparatively speaking, you are pretty normal. Now I just dream that my teeth get too big for my mouth and fall out. Then Tinky Winky flies up and all hell breaks loose. I still have not been able to figure that one out.
In friendship,
Mary True

Thou most omniscient seer,
Mine is a problem that could easily drive the less sturdily constructed among us to acts of workplace violence or worse, the reclusive home manufacture of Martha Stewart inspired baubles. I'm willing to grant that while the world may benefit from the periodic burst of personnel hygiene, I think we can all agree that the world does not require anymore driftwood wall clocks with hands fashioned out of shards of aluminum yoo-hoo cans. if I wanted such items, I'd just move to Branson, Missouri and be done with it.
So...
It seems that the most worldly and educated people in my office, the ones that have attended Stanford or Yale, the ones whose resumes read like a catalogue of esteem and accomplishment, the ones who devise brilliant solutions to the most pressing of problems, are incapable of the simple act of placing more paper in the printer or dialing the fax machine. And while I'm well aware that current developments in neuroscience suggest that the brains of geniuses are constructed differently, I'm not buying the feigned ineptitude of my colleagues. These people are not geniuses. They are bright, they are charismatic, but they are certainly not heir apparents to Einstein or Gertrude Stein or for that matter Ben Stein. I've seen these people tie their shoes and order from menus. I've seen them drive cars, open and close umbrellas, and in some cases even fill out complicated overnight mailing forms. They are of ordinary, though cultivated, intelligence. So why do they turn into pillars of salt when faced with the prospect of changing a toner cartridge?
Should I be forced to suffer in silence?
Alas.
Love the galoshes,
Eddie Spaghetti's Sister, Edie

Edible Edie,
You are not alone. Millions of office workers are in the same predicament. I quote Scott Adams on Why Life Will Never Be Like Star Trek published in The Dilbert Future by Harper Business:

On Transporters:
It would be great to be able to beam your molecules across space and then reassemble them. The only problem is that you have to trust your co-worker to operate the transporter. These are the same people who won't add paper to the photocopier or make a new pot of coffee after taking the last drop. I don't think they'll be double-checking the transporter coordinates. They'll be accidentally beaming people into walls, pets, and furniture. People will spend all their time apologizing for having inanimate objects protruding from parts of their bodies.
'Pay no attention to the knickknacks; I got beamed into a hutch yesterday.'

---

See? It has nothing to do with not knowing the ins and outs of your average printer, but it is sheer laziness and the belief that there will always be some other sap around who can take care of these little office maintenances. In this case, the sap is you. Do not fear however-the sap is me too.
Suffer in silence, suffer in explosive turmoil. You will always suffer.
Forever changing paper,
Mary True

Lovely Mary quite contrary,
I would like to submit for exploration some inquiries about etiquette. Though such questions may rest somewhat outside the parameters of the conventional advice column, you're hardly a conventional advice columnist, and thus I suspect that you'll be more than equal to the task. To get right to it, the matters at hand:
1) If you feel that the (insert artistic activity) reviewer at your local cultural publication is conducting a semiotic inquisition against the sort of signifying activity you find most agreeable, thus destabilizing your subject position by undercutting the cultural artifacts you use to (in some modest fashion) manufacture your [identity] in late capitalist fin de siecle America, what is the proper course of action? We are cultural animals and thus defined by what we produce and what we consume. While one would wish to defend oneself against such semiological drive-bys, one would hardly want to do so rudely.
2) Why is it that certain individuals feel it necessary to, when telephoning a home or business and finding no one available to answer the phone, wait until after the tone to hang up the phone even though they have no intention of leaving a message? Leaving the one you are calling with a message that amounts to little more than a click or a rough blast of plastic tumbling back on plastic seems a tad wasteful and perhaps, at some preconscious level, malicious.
Well I wonder.
On bended knee,
The masked cilantro enthusiast

Eccentric Enthusiast,
Why, thank you ever so for the kind words. Miss Mary blushes.
As for your ponderances:
1) Huh?
2) It is indeed rude to wait until the machine beeps to hang up the phone. I find that the ones who are most guilty of this are telemarketers and creditors. So by their own trade, they are supposed to be shitty little weasels. It is in the job descriptions. It reads as such:
I (Joe Phoneguy, aka people hater) solemnly swear to call during dinner, showers, massive poops, or intense lovemaking. If none of these activities are taking place at the appointed time, I shall sound like a rude-ass bastard while hanging up on the call-ee’s answering machine.
I do not make the laws of these barbaric trades, I merely report them, and try to offer support.
Supporting you in your plight,
Mary True
Hail, Mary of Tinseltown!
In this age of communications, how is it that so many people lack basic communicative skills? How do these people even dial the telephone? And why do deaf people do so before inserting their hearing aids? Why do 90-year olds call up innocent office pinkies and blather for forty minutes before saying "Okaaayyeee," and hanging up? Why do pathetic people who are pushed around in their own miserable little lives take every opportunity to point out someone else's mistakes?
And why, Mary, why, for God's sake, can't Americans embrace the Siesta?
Yours in clockwatching,
S

Salacious S,
This age of communication is a farce. You may have seen ads for cellular phones that indicate that life is “too busy” to answer calls. Many products have been developed for the sole purpose of taking messages: the pager, voice mail, caller id, email, automated menus, fax machines-you name it. However, very little is on the market that encourages people to speak to one another with respect. While cell phones come in handy-and perhaps have revolutionized the way we use the phone, they still have not mastered the art of making a good phone batterry. This forces the user to speak quickly-perhaps coming off as rather short-just so s/he is no longer forced to hear the low battery beep. So your experiences are a backlash of all of this fabulous technology. Get a cell phone, a pager, your own automated menu board, and have your callers leave a freakin’ message. That’ll teach ‘em.
And sweetie, I have embraced the Siesta all my life. I am still waiting for the rest of the population to get with the program.
With a glean in my eye,
Mary True

Dear Mary:
I don't know what to do and I hope you can help ! I work with some really wacko people! Everyday I slip in to work before anyone can see me and every night I slip out before anyone else leaves.... My God what should I do? There is the one who is in love with himself. We will call him Swetty Man. He thinks he has the best ass in the world and thinks women love him. He looks in the mirror all day long. Then there is the friend of Swetty Man. He has a psycho girlfriend that gives him sex all day and night so he will never leave her! The only hope we have for our place of work is the two blonde chicks that work in the corner by the "escape" door which I utilize to come and go through each day. They seem to be a little on the odd side but they are my only hope. What do I do? I have grown attached to my cube and don't want to switch jobs for this reason. Should I kill all the men and let all the women eat them? Or maybe just make them our love slaves? Help!
Signed,
Trapped

Treacherous Trapped:
My dear heart doth bleeds for you my pet. However, you pose a reasonable solution. Do you know if these two oafs are dark or white meat-and are you aware of which the two blondes prefer?? The Fourth of July is coming up. Perhaps you should organize a barbecue with the two blondes, and invite the men over for dinner.
Bon appetite!
Mary True

Sweet Mary--
Alphabet charts! Fabulous!
But oh, the squinting will then continue, the leering from behind half closed lids, like windows in some medieval fortress designed to keep the arrows out. The remedy, without question, is floor to ceiling alpha-iconography, such that they might be read from satellites and other less well defined objects orbiting our green and smog-streaked sphere. Lola will not miss those, no (s)he won't, even though (s)he might crash into them in mid-bouncing gait, and be spread across them, limbs akimbo, like some unfortunate insect acquainting itself with the elusive concepts of transparency and Newtonian physics. you might by now have determined that eyesight is for Lola one issue among many. our instruments have yet to definitively determine whether the blindness is real or another in a series of affectations (I have taken to moving things about ever so slightly in an effort to figure this out, to see if Lola is navigating by image-reflex or cognitive mapping. I grant that this may be less than scientific. Roll over, Robert Oppenheimer). truly, this is something more fun to watch than whatever might be on cable.
As for the straitjacket, I've begun to tailor one to the best of my abilities, though I fear my pace may not be rapid enough to make the cut and stitching compatible with the season's styles (fashion being, as it is, a transient art).
To avoid the suck-up catatonia you so well describe, I've stocked up on orange Kool-Aid and questionably powdered low-budget baked goods.
And no, I've never smelled anything quite like that before.
I'm but an antenna to your transmissions of wisdom.
Signed,
The long wandering ghost of eazy-e

Ever-sweet E:
I am pleased that you heed my advice. I have my faith in you. As for your straightjacket, use either a beige or black fabric. The latter is preferable, as it is more slimming, and NEVER goes out of style.
With daisy in hand,
Mary True

Dear Mary,
As a newcomer to your advice column, I saw immediately that you were truly a rhapsode of wise counsel, a poet of the considered response. In short, a fine listener.
As you might suspect, though, I am not writing purely out of the desire to praise (though that *is* a large part of my purpose). Anyhow, enough of this shameless bootlicking and onto my real reason for dashing off this hopeful missive - I need the advice only you can provide.
On the surface, my problem is a garden-variety work issue. However, it has taken on some rather disturbing dimensions that I will address presently. In our office we have a young urchin who I will refer to as Lola. Lola has several disturbing qualities, primary among them a tendency to creep us all right the fuck out. s/he affects a certain tim mcveigh-cum-morrissey demeanor, with some embarrassing faux-dorothyparkerisms that only more vigorously call to our attention the vacancy behind h(er)is eyes. Also, s/he is famous for h(er)is propensity to lapse into some sort of trance wherein (s)he forgets all his previous training and besieges us with absurd questions that he (ostensibly)already knows the answer to. The catalog of indiscretions could rattle on and on.
I suppose my true query is this - what sort of fabric would you recommend for this individual's straitjacket, and what narcotic and in what dosage would alleviate the pain and suffering of all parties involved? I'm fishing for some clever alliterative construction involving both my condition and the city in which I reside, but I've got nothing. Yours in creative medicating,
The happy prole

Perceptible Prole,
And you see this as a problem?
I am hoping that Lola does this all in fun, but going by your perplexity of the matter, I would say she is not. Oh, the things you can do to the ones who used to ride the short bus. The possibilities are mind bogging (no pun intended). Take part in Lola's quest for the P in Brain. Go out and invest in those alphabet charts you used to see above the blackboard in the first grade. Tack it near the ceiling in your office. Buy her learning-ledgers. Give Lola an apple and inform her that the teacher will give her a sticker if it is properly presented. Embrace her (or his) wasteland. If Lola insists on making a blonde-ass chubby monkey of herself, then embrace it. Have fun. When she learns a new word, announce it to your office. Go ahead. Be catty. Be witty. But above all, act dumber when Lola's wasteland is mapped in your direction.
In all of this, stroll up to Lola with inspiring observations. For example, try this: In plain view of the sweet urchin, sniff your pinky and look perplexed. Give it a moment. Look more confused as the seconds tick. When you are in touching range, thrust your pinky in his (or her) face and say, "Have you ever smelled anything like this before?" Oh, Lola's wince will be priceless. I guarantee it.
However, be sure you do this when no one else is around. That way, no one will hear the scream when it pierces her (or his) lips. In other words, creep back. Be stranger. Normality never snapped back faster when there is a freak in the midst.
As for the straightjacket protection you desire, I prefer a cotton-rayon blend. It feels so smooth and supple against bare skin. And you need no drugs for the victimized parties. After hearing Lola ramble, a get-together including orange Kool-Aid and white powdered doughnuts (the crap-ass kind) should be sufficient. Nothing wakes one up out of a moronic-kiss-ass-induced-catatonic trance like orange Kool-Aid and doughnuts! MMMmmmm! Good!
Enveloping you in wet boots,
Mary True

Dear Mary True....
My left ball seems to have the intermittent pain that surfaces every few weeks or so. Are there any home remedies that you can suggest? I don't carry insurance and have a great fear of doctors (especially those who touch balls). Anything you can do to help would be greatly appreciated. If you need pictures to aid in you diagnosis, let me know.
--Testy

(Mary takes the time to qualify the question)
Before I answer this question, I am afraid that I will need pics. Please send ASAP.

(Testy responds)
Here ya go (eeeeewww)...

Tortured Testy,
It looks and sounds as if your left nut needs some TLC. Do not fear, it is treatable, but your problem, commonly known as Testicular Onanism Amative Distress Syndrome (TOADS) may spread to the right one if you are not careful. The cause of TOADS usually stems from prolonged aggressive treatment to the nut/ball region, most commonly by the sufferer. In other words, quit tossing off so much. There is a solution you may prepare to soak the affected area if the problem persists:

2 oz Scope Mint-fresh mouth wash
1 oz pickle juice
1 tube of Ben Gay
3-4 drops of your favorite cologne

Combine all ingredients and beat well with a wisk (I am referring to the concoction here) until Ben Gay appears to have blended. Soak a clean, dry washcloth into the solution and apply to affected area for approximately three hours at a time. I guarantee you won't want to play with yourself for a while.
I wish you well,
Mary True

Dear Mary:
Is there a hell?
If so... what's up with that?
Also, any idea where the word 'noodle' comes from?
Just wondering in Limbo

Luscious Limbo,
Yes, there is a hell. Hell is being stranded in a nudest colony with the guests of "Jerry Springer." Hell is being forced to listen to Drew Barrymore conduct a lecture on quantum physics. Hell is a fridge full of Mad Dog, wine coolers, and those blue squirty bottle thingies. Hell is when you chop off your pinkie and you realize the sheer horror of what you have just done. What's up with that? Life just really sucks sometimes.
Now for your curiosity of the word "noodle." Depending on which noodle you are referring to, it has different origins, or etymologies. It may be derived from the 1579 Middle English word "noddle," which is the back of the head or neck. Then there is the German "nudel" which is the original egg noodle which dates back to 1779. If you are referring to the intransitive verb form--"noodling," which is to wing it with an instrument of some type, then that goes back to about 1937 where it was used as slang. Wenn Sie mich um etwas wie der überhaupt wieder bitten, gebe ich Ihnen fünfzig Peitschen mit einer nassen Nudel. Got it?
Desperately yours,
Mary True

Dear Mary,
My main concern is a co-worker who seems to be very close to the edge of going completely postal. He has periodic rages at the office where he indulges in self-pity and general blaming of everyone else for his low self-esteem and his self-perceived lack of advancement. This is not a happy camper we are talking about here.

Well, since I've never been privy to one of the actual outbursts, just heard about the scenes in the aftermath, I've continued to be friendly with this person. However, I understand that during his most recent rant and display my name came up. Apparently he's rather upset that I got a raise when he didn't. I'm not sure how he found out about my raise, but, in any case, I got it because I work hard (while he tends not to) and I'm a tad more even-tempered.

There've been jokes around the office about him being the type to carry in a loaded pistol (or automatic weapon) some day when he's having one of these episodes and shooting up the place. I must admit that whenever I hear about the desk tossings, the thought that he might bring that firearm in does cross my mind.

My question to you is this:
How can I ensure that he doesn't sight me up in the gun's line of trajectory? Oh, have I mentioned that he wanted to date me but I've refused? I've tried to be friends, but he just complains and talks about himself whenever we take in a movie or dinner. To prevent dying of boredom, I limit the social interactions we do have. Any suggestions?
Cringing and hiding in St. Pete

Credulous Cringing,
Unfortunately, there is no sure-fire way (pun intended) to keep out of a gun's scope if it is pointed in your general direction. If you have the means, have a private conversation with your boss about this person-even register a formal complaint so you have something on record that this office "Rambo" has a history of less-than-stable behavior. Perhaps discuss the possibility of counseling for this fella-many workplaces have a benefit of this type. Through all of this, try to stay as confidential as possible to protect yourself. But getting the guy some sort of help may be your best bet to avoid looking down a very long, very dark, very scary gun barrel. In the meantime, go about your business as usual-be polite, be attentive to his needs at work, but be cautious. Don't try and get him fired-we hear all the time what happens when the loonies lose their jobs-they sometimes get a little miffed, and your fears turn into a reality. Walk slowly. Carry a big stick. On the other hand, if you are really THAT scared, you could try and find another job. That is always an option-as lousy as it sounds.
Stay in one piece baby,
Mary True

Dear Mary,
I am in a real pickle. My wife is constantly hitting me. I pee on the seat, POW, right in the face. I blow some gas, POW, right in the face. If I don't do all of my chores, POW, right in the face. To top all of that off, I think she is dating my sister, What do I do?!?
--Beaten and Bruised Bag o' Bones

Bodacious Beaten,
Oh, things sound horrible for you! Hmmm-I think you should let your sister have her. That would solve everything.
With a deep and powerful love,
Mary True

Hello Mary True,
My first problem is that that my friend recently sent me an e-mail with my name mizpelled and that made me very sad. I also have a problem with Windows NT, it keeps finding new ways to screw up my Road Runner Internet connection to the Internet. This makes my accessing e-mail, chat rooms, and late night porn virtually impossible. My last problem is that my roommates just started working for AT&T. I hate AT&T, they are not my friends. If I see Paul Riser's little Jewish stereotype act doing one more 10-10-### commercial I'm going to snap and start stabbing people. Now, I'm an Sprint user and proud of it. Sprint got me to join their plan because I found them the most annoying and consistent when asking me to join over the phone. I joined Sprint because I knew that I wouldn't have them harassing me any more. But now my roommates went to AT&T! Will I have to change services? Will I have to kill them both? Will I have to sell my phone and move to Burma? Help me Mary True.
Sincerely,
Knoffenkaiser Exelixisenbacher

Darling Knoffen:
I hate Sprint. They slammed me and charged me $1.45 a minute for a barely long distance call. So as far as I am concerned, they can suck my used sanitary products. With that said, I am very sorry your friend misspelled your name. I think you should kill the loser. There is not a jury in the world that would convict you. As for Win-duhs, as long as Bill Gates has a potato for a butt, you will continue to have problems. You know what? Damn-it sounds like you have it really rough. I don't think I can help you. If I were in your shoes, I would just kill myself. I hear the car-in-the-garage thing works the best. Do that.
With love and admiration,
Mary True

Dear Goddess Mary,
My job is killing me. Literally! I work ungodly hours - 7p.m. to 8a.m. - and although it's only three nights a week, the consequences effect my every waking hour. The nights I work rotate every six weeks from weeknights to weekdays. I have been working this shift for a little over a year now, and I have been sick more this past year than I have in the past ten years of my life. Also, I have been recently diagnosed with a disease that is partly triggered by stress, and my body is definitely going through serious stress on a daily basis. My work shift has also put a major damper on my social life. Luckily, I have very understanding friends who accept the fact that they may not see me for six week stints. But as for meeting new people or dating, as soon as they hear about my work schedule they take off running! I have been seriously trying for three months now to find a new job. As for getting a day shift at my current place of employment, that is out of the question. Every week I scour the local classifieds, check 7 different online job search sites, and visit local company web sites. I have also bugged the hell out of any of my friends who have decent jobs to try to hook me up with their companies. I am trying everything I can think of and doing everything I can to keep my attitude positive, but I just don't know how much longer I can go on! Can you think of any avenues I may have overlooked?
--Vampire for "The Man"

Voluptuous Vampire,
Keep pluggin, darlin-something has to break soon-that is-unless you totally suck at whatever it is you do. It is important to know what your skills are and play them up. Be aware of what you are capable of doing. If you don’t know, ask your friends (if you have any). Sometimes they are better at seeing things that you may not. At any rate, if you want to find the ninja job, try going through your local phone book and search for companies in your field-regardless if they have advertised for a position or not. Call them and get the proper contact names, contact those people, and ask if you can send them a resume. Even if they are not hiring, persist and ask to send one anyway. Be nice and sweet, like me. Who knows? A key person may kick the bucket or haul off and quit unexpectedly. You never know-and neither do they (as a matter of fact, your good friend Mary True just so happened to get a job using this method). Another thing you could do is call different types of companies and ask if they need your services-this way, you are creating your own position. The extra bonus is if you DO suck at whatever it is you do, they will be none the wiser. Woo hoo! Job security!
You go Speedracer!
Mary True

Proud Mary,
Why do men run from me in droves like scenes from a disaster movie?
(smudges from tears and heartbreak...)
--Some Girl who loves her dog too much …well beginning to love her dog too much.

Somber Some Girl,
Which disaster movie? “Godzilla,” or “Titanic”? If it’s “Godzilla," then perhaps you should avoid trying to eat your men-at least don’t use teeth when you do. If it’s “Titanic," then try not to whine so much and just let the frozen dead man go, for chrissake. As for dogs, they make perfect man-substitutes. They even pee on your leg!
Scratching your fleas,
Mary True

Mary, Mary!
What should I do?? I live in Orlando, by UCF, and in August my roommates and I will have to move out of our townhouse and find another place to live. At the moment, there are four of us, but one is graduating and going home. The other three of us have been looking for a three-bedroom apartment. We've found a really nice place that is really quite reasonable for rent, and as far as I'm concerned, it's in a great location. My roommate “S” agrees. We both think it’s great. But roommate “M” doesn't like the location because it's too far from work, she says. I understand her point, in some respects, but the reason I'm writing is because she's so damned stubborn that she won't even TRY to find another way to get to work. She's determined to live in a complex that's about four blocks closer to her work than the one we like, even though that apartment complex doesn't have any openings for July and August, which is when we'll have to move. I don't know how to talk to her and try to get her to realize that there are easier ways for her to get to work than her current route. I'm hoping that this would make her realize that living a little farther isn't a bad thing, and then maybe she'd also consent to look at other complexes. OH, Please help me Mary!! I don't know what to do!!
--Dazed and Confused in Disney World

Daring Dazed,
It is time for you to bluff and play hardball. Lay down the law and inform Madame M that a vote has passed for the place you mention and she lost. Her choice is to bite the bullet and go along with it too, or find some new roommates. But before you acquire such brazenness, have a plan B. Find an apartment in the complex that you want with two bedrooms, or find a replacement roommate. It is much easier to find those two things than for “M” to find an affordable one bedroom or two more roommates. That way, if she calls your bluff, your cheese won’t be left out in the wind. My guess is that she will buckle and go along with your master plan. You still have the advantage here. Grow some thicker skin and use it.
With a tender kiss,
Mary True

Dear Mary,
My vagina smells like pine today! Although, that's not really a complaint. It's more like a boast isn't it? Wouldn't it be wonderful if more vaginas smelled like pine?
--Sprucy

Special Little Sprucy:
To be perfectly honest, I prefer the smell of circus peanuts.
With Deepest Regard,
Mary True

Ms. Mary True,
I have a HUGE problem. I just moved here not too long ago and I love it, but when I moved, I left someone I loved very much, actually he was my first true love. Well it went really good for the first 7 months I was here, and then all hell broke loose. I started getting more jealous of who he hung out with, and where he was all the time, and finally he got sick of it and broke up w/ me which tore me into pieces. I haven't ever been so depressed in my life! Well, my family told me I needed to get on with my life, but it don't seem to be working cause we still have a chance to be together. Still I went out and had fun, and now I have a boyfriend down here, who is really sweet and caring, and also a great friend. I have a problem with him--he is already telling me he loves me. I tell it back to him, b/c I don't want to hurt his feelings, and I really don't want to go out w/ him b/c I still want to be with my first love, and he's like too much of a great friend. Do you know what I mean? Can you help???
Love Torn in St. Pete

Sweetest Love Torn,
The first is always the greatest, isn't it? I can sit here and tell you the same as your family-"Oh, you're young, get over it," and "Isn't puppy love sweeeeeeeeet?" but I know that does not do you a damn bit of good. It is hard when you have to let the first one go. It hurts worse when it is not by choice-as in your moving away. I wish I could give you a crystal ball so you can see what things will be like between you two, but alas, I haven't the power. But damned it all to hell-I wish somebody gave me one!!! I know it hurts, and I know what a horrible feeling departure and jealousy is. There is no easy answer, except for time. And I don't mean a few months. I mean give it two years at least. Two years seems like a long time now, but if those two years go by, and you still feel the world on your shoulders over this guy, then yes, by all means, go make that effort to get him back somehow. However, in the meantime, you are making some grave mistakes that will drive him away forever if you don't clean up your act. The first thing is, don't be jealous unless you have a valid reason to be. If he is off somewhere screwing around, then you have to let him go. Flash forward to, say 7 years from now. You are married to this guy and you are happily pregnant with his first child. You live in a nice house, and your life is beautiful. Now picture this: What if he starts screwing around on you then? You don't need that horror in your life. But if he is not doing anything wrong, don't imagine it. If you can't help but imagine it, then perhaps you need to consider why that is. Why are you so afraid? Because you are under the misapprehension that there is someone out there cuter than you? PSHAW! No way, man. Realize your cuteness. Embrace it. Even if you don't think you are cute now. Pretend you are. Your inner-cuteness will overcome and you will realize it-mark my words. Now-as for this other little boyfriend of yours. The first rule of dating and sharing a major relationship with someone is: DON'T DATE OTHER GUYS. Going out with other guys will not help your esteem in the end-it will actually bring it down. If you and Prince Charming don't work out-there will be time for others. You are not helping matters by bringing another fella into the picture. He will not help you forget about him, and he will not help fill the gap-as you are discovering. He is only complicating things for you. As far as telling him you love him-rather than saying "I love you too, honey," say a simple "thank you" instead. Then decide which guy you want-because you can't have both. You would not want your Little Prince doing this, so don't you go doing it either. In a nutshell, what you need to gain here is patience and self esteem. Know that you have some years left in you. Think of yourself not as a toad, but as the queen you are. I DO understand. I was standing in your same shoes not too long ago. Write me back if you want to know how my Prince Charming turned out. It may not be the same, but it may help you gain some big-picture-perspective on this.
Good luck, my dear Queen.,
--Mary True

Dear Mary:
I've just smashed my new car, and aside from residual depression, I feel GREAT! Why? I'm gonna make at least a grand off the insurance money--perhaps even $1,500! I work as a secretary, so that's a large sum of money. The problem is, I just don't know what to do with it! My father has helped me financially throughout the years: should I give the money to him? I have severely defaulted student loans (thought this would be a drop in the proverbial bucket): should I give it to them? As I see it, here are my options (provided my loan is refinanced well and my trusty auto auction wizard pulls through and gets me a great deal like he always does):
A) Pay 300 of it to utility bills. Blow the rest on bad ass sound system & clothing.
B) Pay 300, declare bankruptcy on prior dischargeable debts ($150), get secured credit card, blow rest on chemical peel and clothing.
C) Put money in something like an Alliance money market with check-writing privileges and let it accrue while living in my parents' home. Once my roomie moves out, move out too. In the meantime start buying furniture from garage sales, knowing that with bad credit it will take a lot of security deposits and at least a grand to move out. (So boring!)
D) Get an even better car.
E) Throw a really bitchin' party.
Given my credit history, I'm surprisingly good with money. My paychecks often have a large portion of discretionary income. Last week I saved a Franklin--even though I took cabs to work! But...but...jeez! I've got a Frederick's of Hollywood catalogue with my name all over it! Aren't unfortunate windfalls like this meant to be spent?
--Moneybags

Marvelous Moneybags,
Beware-you are ignoring the old cliché "Don't count your chickens before they hatch." Sweetheart, you are counting away! You are building this up quite a bit, and it would be a shame to find that you are getting squat from this accident. Now that I have said that, I will answer your question. From what you have told me, your credit is already bad, so perhaps you have already used past "unfortunate windfalls" and they have gotten you into trouble. You also mention student loans, which would lead me to believe you have been through college. To boot, you say you live in your parent's house. Damn, girl, you got it made! Do you really NEED more? Why don't you use the money wisely? Declare bankruptcy, give it to your father, start paying those student loans! Keep in mind that $1500 is not an enormous amount of money. Shoot, I could blow that in a drunken afternoon downtown. The money will go fast, no matter what you decide to do. I would suggest using it to build your credit back up. I know it's boring, but there are countless reasons why you should put it towards those pesky little debts. Independence. No more financial worries. A feeling of accomplishment when debts begin to whittle down. You say you have bad credit, yet you are good with money. I have found that it is quite easy to be good with money if you don't pay your bills. If I don't pay mine, I always have reason to feel terrific because I have lots of money left in my account come payday. Unfortunately, that is not the name of the game. You spent your money, you gotta pay it back. Bites, don't it?
Good luck,
Mary True

Mary,
I'm a complete mess. I can't get a date even though almost no one knows my deep dark secret. That secret being that I like Fredrick's of Hollywood a little more than the next guy. I mean, I'm not gay, I just like women's clothes. Would I have more luck with lesbians? Help me Mary, you're my only hope!
With all due Ardor,
Gartered in Glendale

Gracious Gartered,
Hmm. Interesting quirk. You would have no more luck with lesbians than you would a 7'8" bull-hunk wrestler named "Tiny." As a matter of fact, some lesbians may just do the same damage as "Tiny" if you sashayed up to them in a red satin thong ensemble. But since these women won't date you regardless of your secret, perhaps you need to change your strategy. Now are you one of those guys who just stares at a woman with scary-ass googly eyes until she falls madly in love with you, or do you actually ask them out? If you just stare at them, then go home now and slip into a good set of panties, sweetie, because you are in for a long wait. However, if you do ask women out, and they always say no, you could check for several things. First, make sure that your fishnets are not showing underneath your Nikes and tube socks. Second, it is all in delivery. Are you asking with a shy quiver in your voice, or are you grabbing them by the hair and dragging them to your evil lair? Third, are you asking the right women? Especially in your case, you need to be. You need a woman with an open mind. An adventuress. Try to find an adventuress who is not a slut-otherwise you will be writing me a few months from now complaining that she borrowed your favorite corset to go make it with another guy. A nice bisexual girl may be the match for you. Go for personality first in this case. A love based solely on beauty will not give you what you need from this woman. Once you find this rare flower, find a gray area between the quivering mass of anxiety and Thor the Bitch Master. Be suave, but nervous (touch of nervousness=cute). Gentle, yet masterful. Once you get her on that first date, don't go sharing your secret just yet. Adventurous as she is, she may be a little surprised and taken aback that you would share so much on the first date. Let a month or more of heavy dating go by before you ask to borrow her Wonderbra. I think in the end, you would make an interesting, yet rather erotic catch (interesting+erotic=good). I hope you do find your rare flower. Let me know what comes of it.
With peaked interests,
Mary True

Dearest Mary,
I would like to have your knowledgeable opinion on something that has bothered me for a long, long time. Why is it that this culture is so utterly obsessed with large breasts? I think it is perfectly fine to be "well endowed" but why does it seem that this is necessary in order to be...beautiful?? I am one of those who has "kumquats" instead of "grapefruits" and this unrealistic view of the perfect women's body still puzzles me. I even thought of going for breast implants but I don't believe that putting foreign objects in the human body is an intelligent thing. What is your opinion??
--Clueless at the lower end of the citrus scale

P.S. - I think that more women should research the breast implant fiasco. Check out this page, but be warned it is quite graphic and absolutely gross!!! http://members.tripod.com/~justice_8/Silicone-Holocaust.html

Dear Clueless,
It is like some sick joke, isn't it? After looking at the Web site you provided, I got a horribly bad taste in my mouth and had to get up to brush my teeth. I can't imagine why a woman would do such a thing like putting a toxin-filled bag into one of the most beautiful parts of her body.
Answering your question does not solve the problem, but you asked, and so you shall receive. Our culture seems to be celebrity-driven. Many want to be like the ones in the magazines, rich, powerful, and flawless. However, The same is not true for male celebrities. Many men who are in the spotlight are clearly not ascetically "perfect." You have folks like Tom Hanks, Anthony Hopkins, Robert DeNero, and Harvey Kaitel who are portrayed as acceptable-and somehow even sexy, even though they clearly have their physical faults.
How many celebrity women can you think of who are less than stunning and yet are considered a sex symbol? If a woman in Hollywood is less than flawless, she is dubbed a "funny woman," or stuck with a character-relief (sidekick or filler) role-but they are never considered to be a thing of beauty. For example, Kathy Bates is a talented woman, but is she dubbed as "sexy"?
As far as the beautiful woman on the cover of Cosmo, they have all of the benefits of airbrushing for flawless shin, and computers for large breasts and long legs. And there's the silicon issue. Men are further removed from this problem than women simply because they have more choice of role models. They have the Toms, the Anthonys, and the Roberts to chose from. Women have the Kate Mosses, the Michelle Pfeiffers, and the Meg Ryans. Meg herself has seen herself on a magazine with large breasts and readily admitted, "those are not mine."
So why is our culture obsessed? Because those who run it have all the resources available to them to make them look like a work of art. And someone decided that large breasts was essential to a fine piece of work.
One more side note-while my breasts are on the smaller side, I still think they are one of my best features. While that may sound hypocritical to this discussion of breast obsession, my admiration of my own breasts is partly because breast cancer runs ramped in my family. One day, I am sure I will have to give one or both of them up. I just want to appreciate them while I still have them, and so should you.
Advocating the worship of one's own breasts,
Mary True

Miss Mary,
I'm a hunchbacked, one-eyed dwarf (long story), and I have a problem with women. I don't understand it, Miss Mary, I do all the right things: I give them flowers, I wine them and dine them, I take them for long walks on the beach, I show them my meathook collection... I even let them off the leash, sometimes. But if I turn my back, WHOOSH! They try to run away, and I always end up crying myself to sleep. Tell me true, Miss Mary, what am I doing wrong? I'm beginning to feel like I'm some kind of hideous freak!
Yours in askance,
Murderous in Melbourne

Melodious Murderous:
Good gracious, it's no wonder the women are running away. Quit taking them off the leash! Duh!
Passionately,
Mary True

Miss Mary...
I have this problem. Well, is it a problem? You tell me. You see, I am a university professor for a prominent large university. Let me also say that I am attractive and quite young for my profession. As each semester goes along, it never fails, one (or more) of my female students asks me "out". I think you know what I mean by "out". As of this writing, I have been "out" with four (now past) students. To tell you truth I am closer in age to my students than to that of my colleagues and have more in common with them as well. It has been 'loads' of fun the whole time and I feel that no one really has been hurt by this. And no, it has not been to receive good grades, because they all remain in touch to this day (although some have graduated). What's the deal? Is it me? Is it them? Is it fate? I am not married and these gals are cute as hell. What should I do? Hurry with your answer. I have a date at 6:00.
Professor Plenty

Precious Plenty,
What did you think, that I would just be sitting home alone all night drinking beer, smoking cigarettes, and pathetically watching "Beverly Hills, 90210" tonight? Did you ever consider the fact that I might also have a hot young date? For shame!! OK, well, I was doing some of that, but I was not really watching 90210. It was just on, but I wasn't listening or anything ohwillsomeonepleasejustshooootmeeeee?
Now, your issue of dating your students. If you were a high school teacher, that would be one thing, but you're not. Unless you are a professor at one of those "College for Kids" programs, I don't really see a problem with the fact that you are getting more ass than a toilet seat. Now, they may be dating you out of good grades, as you deny, but it may be a bit of hero worship, too. Lots of girls get crushes on their professors. It's not unusual. Many profs don't take them up on it, and there may be a rule about this in your university, but if there isn't, why not? If there is, ask yourself this: "Is a pretty young thing really worth my term here in office?" Lordy, if only everyone asked that question. By the way, if you are such a fabulous professor, why did I have to correct so much spelling?
Still Longing,
Mary True

Hari Kari, Hail Mary, this situation is rather scary!
Oh Mary, my dearest friend has a problem with the sauce. She's a booze hound, yes indeedy, and I can't take it anymore! Every night I find her sloshing around the bottom of the bottle and I can't fish her out! I've tried talking to her several times, and I even recently got her family involved. You know what she said? She told me that I was one of the reasons she hits the bottle so hard, and now she hates me! I feel helpless and I'm just about ready to kiss this friendship good-bye! Help me, Mary! What should I do?!
Drowning in Downtown St. Pete.

Dear Drowning,
Yeah, this situation really sucks. But it sounds like you have done everything right. She is blaming you for her drinking because she feels so crap-ass low that she puts it on someone else (you) in a feeble attempt to make her feel better. She also may be defensive about her drinking, which is another reason she is blaming it on you. Actually, there are hundreds of reasons why she is blaming it on you-and none of them have much to do with you at all. There does come a time after you have exhausted every resource to try and rescue the girl on the cliff who gets the thrill of heights, yet the rocks are crumbling beneath her. You have thrown ropes, enlisted help, tried to talk her down from her perch, but she won't budge. In your next step, you have two choices. You can go up on the cliff with her to give her some company-but then you will find yourself in the same dangerous predicament. Or you will have to let her fall. It is very, very sad to see someone you love do this to herself. The best way I can tell you how to let go of your friend is to realize that the person you initially became friends with has died to a certain extent. Only this time, there is a chance she may eventually come back. If she does, and if she is as good of a friend as you say, she will. Chances are, she will want her old life back too, and you were a big part of that. Just don't count on her return any time soon.
Love,
Mary True

OH PLEASE HELP MARY...BE TRUE!!!
I desperately need your advice....Last weekend I stumbled upon a copy of a well-known newspaper at a friend's house. There was an article in this publication that exposed the fact that Japanese men are ga-ga over Janet Reno. At first I thought this was a joke until I saw a picture of Ms. Reno in a rather skimpy outfit!! To make things worse my boyfriend (who happens to be Japanese) was sitting next to me and watched as I read the article. I was disturbed by the revelations in this article but tried not to give it much thought. Yesterday, my friend called to tell me that the newspaper was missing. I went home with a great amount of suspicion in my heart. I searched my boyfriend's underwear drawer and there it was!!! He stole the newspaper!!! I confronted him with it and he confessed that it was all true and that Janet Reno was the hottest babe he had ever seen!!! I am a crushed!! I cannot even possibly think about looking like Ms. Reno with all of her amazing curves! Now the newspaper is in the bathroom and my boyfriend locks himself in and won't come out. Should I cut my hair and buy some thick red framed glasses? Or should I just accept the fact that I am second best ? MARY PLEASE HELP!!!
If you don't believe me, please follow this link to view Janet as it was shown in the newspaper.
Sincerely,
Plain Jane

Sweet Jane,
What red-blooded, fire breathing woman would not want to look like Janet Reno? Especially to keep a hot hunk of a man like your boyfriend? Those amorous Asians are S-E-X-X-Y!!! Yes, by all means, cut your hair. Get the glasses. Buy some football padding and shake it, baby! If you are one of those hopelessly skinny chicks who can't gain those voluptuous curves that women everywhere envy, cement yourself in front of the TV, watch Jerry Springer and Riki Lake and eat cheese dogs and Twinkies until your ass is the size of Russia. Then, your man will be yours forever.
Good luck,
Mary True

Oh, Mary!
A good friend of mine is making a fool of herself over a boy. He takes advantage of her physically and financially, and then disses her, and she keeps letting him do it! She won't listen to my (or anyone's) advice, how can I help her?
--Tormented in Tampa

Dear Tormented,
Assuming that you have talked to her until you are blue in the face, what else can you do? If you keep picking at her about this buck-o-five loser, she will just feel obligated to defend him. It sounds to me as if she is erring on the side of low self-esteem or really good sex. Unfortunately, you have to let her go-but you may want to be there for her when he dumps her sorry ass, or she finds him in bed with some other chick.
Tremendously respectful,
Mary True

Dear Mary,
I am a girl who accidentally slept with her best girlfriend in yet another girlfriend's bed. Firstly, I am not a lesbian. Secondly, I didn't make up the bed, and we were not neat about our escapade. How to I make apologies to all involved? Please help me Ms. Advice Queen! We are all pretending like nothing happened. I feel guilty. Plus, my boyfriend isn't aware this happened. We are planning to wed this summer and these women will be invited. Did I mention -- guilty?
--Sleepful in Tampa

Dear Sleepful,
Oh, my. How many issues can I count in one question? Hmmmmm. In your first two sentences you deny two things: that you MEANT to sleep with this girl, and that you are at the very least bisexual. Do you think you can come to terms with those two issues? Good. I will continue. A question I must ask of you is this-who is the owner of the bed? One of your other girlfriends, or the girlfriend of the woman you slept with? If it is the former, you have some explaining to do. If it is the latter, then it was not your responsibility to make sure the bed had clean sheets when you left the next morning. If anything, that may just call for a sheepish, "Sorry I did not stick around long enough to help you make the bed and maybe share some eggs." Now, about that boyfriend of yours. I believe (and some may disagree with me on this one), that toying with ANYONE, no matter if it is male or female, is cheating. I don't approve of that behavior, but I am merely the Advice Queen, not your mommy. If you cheated on me, I would rip your lungs out and use them as water balloons, but that is my own contempt I hold for such an act of disrespect. How does your future hubby view such adultery? Chances are, if you are getting married, you already know. If he holds the same views on the subject as I do (and most men do), then I cannot stress this enough: DO NOT TELL HIM. Bribe your girlfriends to do the same. Then DO NOT DO IT AGAIN. Telling him will not make you feel any better, and it will not take away the guilt. Bury the guilt. It will go away with time. Just try to not get into any more "accidents."
Compassionatly yours,
Mary True

Dear Mary:
Every time I eat a celery stalk with peanut butter or a banana, my gag reflex sends me running for the commode! How can I train my tonsils so I can pleasure my palate?
Sincerely,
--Gagging in Gainesville

Delightful Gagging:
Maybe if you turned your tastes toward something truly delicious, like a peanut butter and olive sandwich, you won't have this problem. Now if the problem is only in your gag reflex, is there any way you could turn back time and give it to a certain young White House intern?
With Great Admiration,
Mary True

Dearest Mary,
HELP ME!!!!!!!!!!! PLEASE!!!!!!!!!! I am depending on you to help me through my current crisis. I work for the state in a VERY low paying, thankless media and information distribution position. This is a high-stress job, made so by one of my coworkers. She insists, all day long, on doing absolutely nothing. Zip. Zilch. Not a damn thing. Unless it's useless and could have waited till later. And if she does get off her ass to do some work, it takes her FOREVER to complete the task. There are times (most of the time, actually) when I just want to wring her neck. However, I know this to be wrong. I was wondering if you could give me any advice on how to keep myself from doing her bodily harm, or if you could give me some pointers on keeping any future beatings from becoming bloody. Thank you so much for your help. You're my last hope, Mary True.
--Screaming in Orlando

Lovely Screaming,
I am sure you will be delighted to know that there are many books out on this very topic. Dealing With People You Can't Stand (How to Bring Out the Best in People at Their Worst) is one of them. I have plugged the book enough just by giving you the mere title, so I won't proceed by quoting it. Rather, I would rather give you the pearls of my own dear wisdom. Laziness at work vexes me too (unless it's me being lazy-then it's permissible). Figure out a couple of things first: 1) Is this making you so angry only because she gets away with doing nothing-and you don't? If this is your problem, I know it is irritating, but bite the bullet and do your best anyway. Perhaps look for another job where you can get away with being a lazy-ass yourself, or at least where you don't have to watch someone else do it. 2) Is this making you angry because you wind up doing the work of two? If that is the case, sweetie, take it to your boss. Be the narc, the squealer. Just do it in a way that does not make you look like the tattletale. If you are not about blowing whistles, either talk to the lazy-ass up-front, or continue to drop annoying little hints about how you have to do everything. If you are persistent and sarcastic enough, it just may work. If you are too washed up to go out and get another job, and none of these tactics are working, sure! Go take her out back and rough her up a little. If you don't want to leave any bruises, I suggest open-palm hits in sensitive, but non-visible places, like the temple or rib cage. Better yet, pin her down and knock lightly on her sternum. That hurts like a bitch!
With doting care,
Mary True

Mary Mary, Quite Contrary:
Look, we got problems. Major problems. See, we got this sick fascination with death. And to add insult to injury, it seems everyone we deal with is a god-damned enabler. Not to mention, one of us has had this annoying itch in our shorts for weeks now.
Provide advice, send powder......
--The Guys at the O.B.E.

Blessed Guys:
It appears to me as if you are looking at these issues as something unrelated. Fascination with death...itch in the shorts--separate? Have you considered the possibility that this seemingly unrelated glitch in the psyche and irritation of the intimate area have a direct connection with each other? As far as your "enablers," perhaps we--I mean they-- may know something you don't. It sounds to me to be pretty clear, and I am very sorry you have not faced up to it yourself. You have what is known in the medical field as Panty Cancer. Right now you may feel all right, with the exception of that little itch, but that annoying little itch will get progressively worse. You will experience excruciating pain, intense cramping, rampant diarrhea, and a fair amount of bloating. I figure you have about two weeks to live. Your current fascination with death is merely the mind's way of making sense of it all. Powder won't help you now. Sorry.
With Deepest Sympathy,
Mary True

Dear Miss True:
I despise my co-worker. No, really. I do. She's irritatingly perfect sans depth. To call her a vapid Pollanna would be too kind. Kathie Lee Gifford would find her annoying. I've found myself making flimsy excuses to leave the office in the event I'm overcome with the urge to tip the filing cabinet on her poodle-perfect head. I almost lied and told her I was a lesbian so that she wouldn't hover near me. She broke a nail the other day and I cackled. I realize this must stem from petty jealousy, and that I must work to overcome such emotions and find esteem within myself yadda yadda yadda. It's just that, well...I rather enjoy my petty hatred at times. I think it would help if she had a truly bad habit such as picking her nose or scratching her ass in public. Oh Mary, I'm in a quandry! Can I daydream about clamping her nose with the industial hole-puncher and still be a positive self-actualized productive co-worker? Will Mother Theresa just hate me? Do you?
Vanessa in Odessa, Florida

Dearest Vanessa,
You enjoy your "petty hatred" because you enjoy drama in your life. Many women do, especially 'round PMS time. Trouble is, you were not informed that PMS only happens once a month. You allow this drama to engulf you while you are at work, and you marinate yourself in it like a gourmet filet. If you enjoy cattiness so much, why don't you go out and get a kitten and give Pollanna a break? Sure she may be annoying. Sure she may be perky. Maybe she had too many Fruit Loops when she was a kid. But if you don't want to look like the Office Bitter Old Hag, then you should think about opening your can of Vengeful PMS on your own time. Mother Theresa does not hate you. She's dead. At the moment, I don't hate you, because I've had my medication and bottle of scotch. Wait until it wears off, and I will let you know.
With Great Love,
Mary True

Hail Mary,
I am perplexed. I feel as if I have lived in a previous life and crossed over before my time. Present day dilemmas cannot lie resolved as I can't tell if they happened in the 1st or 2nd life period. Can you suggest an answer as to how I can recognize life number 1 and life number 2 and appear as a normal human being, or should I flow through life accepting whatever comes along?
--Martha in Clearwater

Sweetest Martha,
I am very sorry. I must apologize on behalf of the entire human race. We must seem so boring to you compared to the people in your head. I would suggest a shopping spree so you may go out and purchase one of those nifty little things called "Brains." Don't get one on a discount, for I fear that may be at the root of the problem of which you are suffering. You get what you pay for. If such funds are not available to you at the present time, perhaps you should invest in a nice set of various colored Post-Its so you can take notes of each life experience. Be creative. Color coordinate. Keep them organized. Good luck.
Love,
Mary True

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