First Tuesday of every month. You write in. I tell you the truth. You’re welcome.
Dear Demented Dear Abby,
My husband has taken up “hobbies.” In the last six months alone, he has purchased a smoker, a metal detector, a kayak, and something called a “ham radio.” Our garage looks like a Bass Pro Shops threw up in it. Last weekend he woke me up at 5am to tell me he found a 1987 quarter in the backyard. I have not been on vacation for 3 years. He has a ham radio and a quarter that gets more action than I do. Please help.
— Losing It in Louisiana
Dear Loser in Louisiana,
Oh my. Can you just move him into the garage and remarry? Asking for a friend. What in the hot shit hell is going on at yo’ house? A Ham radio?! Is he 80? Next, he’ll start watching reruns of Sanford and Son. Lort and the actual baby Jesus. Sister…you need to conjure up your best “Aunt Ester” and take Fred down! For starters… He needs to start giving you some cured meat you can work with….mmmkkkay. If he wants his meat smoked, he better fire up the grill and hand over some real cash. Talk to me when he finds a silver dolla or the Mona Lisa in that garage. Book you a nice trip (without him) and see how he likes playing with his meat. Bye girl bye.
XO
kellerB
Dear Demented Dear Abby,
I turned 47 and my body immediately filed for divorce. My knees sound like a bowl of Rice Krispies. I sweat through my sheets like I’m running a fever I don’t have. I pulled a muscle reaching for the remote. THE REMOTE. Nobody warned me it would happen this fast. I just want to know — is this it? Is this just what it is now?
— Falling Apart in Flagstaff
Dear Fallen Apart in Flagstaff,
Newsflash: You ain’t 21. Shit started falling apart the minute you were born. You are falling into the black hole of old age. Welcome. I would tell you to take Yoga and Estrogen, but you are better off drinking Rosé and getting a massage. At least one involves getting naked…maybe 2 if you drink enough. I do have some good news for you…Most things can be had by yelling “Hey Siri.” I’m working on training her to fetch my wine. However, it’s worth pulling almost any muscle for a bit of the French nip. Here’s some sound advice…Get off your knees and they won’t snap, crackle or pop. Ho. And…your sheets wouldn’t be sweaty if you stayed off your knees. There. I solved 2 problems in one. I don’t get paid enough for this shit. Stop whining and consider yourself warned….mmmmmkay.
XO
kellerB
Dear Demented Dear Abby,
My 26-year-old son moved back home 8 months ago. He said it would be “temporary.” He has since rearranged my kitchen, introduced a girlfriend I’ve never met who apparently sleeps over on Tuesdays, eaten everything in my refrigerator including leftovers I was emotionally invested in, and asked me if we have Venmo so he can split the Wi-Fi bill with me. My own Wi-Fi. In my own house. I need help.
— Hostage in Houston
Dear Homeless in Houston,
I have exactly ZERO chir’ens and this is why. Girl! Don’t you know when they fly the nest you buy a new one and leave off the forwarding address?! Basic parenting 101 right there! “He said it would be temporary.” Is that what your husband said before he left you? Because I’m on team husband right now….mmmmkkkay! Your son didn’t ask him to move back home did he? Sho didn’t. Girl you are right about one thing….He’s NEVER leaving! Had you done your job properly he wouldn’t want to come home. Ask my Mother why I left at 16….BECAUSE SHE DID HER DAMN JOB! I moved from NY to CA….ain’t been home since. Mother of the year right there! I’ll DM you her number. None of this bullllllshit woulda been going on at her house. She woulda had my ass working in the fields like Laura Ingalls on the Prairie not sharing WIFI and having sex on the countertop. My advice…move out and let him have the house. Bye girl Bye.
XO
kellerB
Dear Demented Dear Abby,
I walked into a party last Saturday looking, if I do say so myself, absolutely fine. Hair done. Outfit on point. Felt myself. A 32-year-old walked in twenty minutes later in a crop top and a ponytail and I literally watched every head in the room turn. Including my husband’s. I drove home alone, ate cheese in bed, and cried exactly once. Am I overreacting or is becoming invisible just the tax we pay for being over 45?
— Unseen in Utica
Dear Definitely Unseen in Utica,
First of all, why do you live in Utica? Move. Can’t imagine there’s too much to look at in Utica…cropped or not. Crying? Eating Cheese? What the actual fuck is wrong with you? I can see your personal ad now: “Single Female, Shops at Forever 45, loves cheese and crying in bed.” Could you be any hotter? Yes…yes you could. I’m not convinced you looked as good as you say you did. I’m getting the cords and plaid sweater vibe from you…strong. In case no one ever told you…there’s always someone better looking than you….mmmmkay. Me for starters and I’m 53. Settle down. Men will look at and bang just about anything. They have these things called “dicks” that direct their eyeballs to any sort of incoming sitch. Cut that connection and you cut yourself off…mmmkkay. If watching your man look at another woman makes you want to run home to bed, at least be productive. Lose the “whine” and cheese. Grab a dildo, some REAL wine and have at it. And move. You are never getting laid in Utica outside of the plastic pleasuring previously mentioned. Bye girl bye.
XO
kellerB
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