CARE'S CORNER!
Hello Campers! It's your old lady friend Care, at your service and ready to assist with your quandaries and conundrums all-sorts. I must say, dears, that there is nothing like the warmer months; The rooting, rutting, sweating sun during the day... and the cool, orby, spermy moon at night. The rippling, rushing rivers gouging though gorgeous gorges. The flippant flies at the zenith sun's fiery mid-day and the frisky flippant felines of a full moon's dusk. Oh dear, listen to me! Going off like I'm bleeding Charles Buggery Bukowski. Let's get on with it then, shall we?
Hello Campers! It's your old lady friend Care, at your service and ready to assist with your quandaries and conundrums all-sorts. I must say, dears, that there is nothing like the warmer months; The rooting, rutting, sweating sun during the day... and the cool, orby, spermy moon at night. The rippling, rushing rivers gouging though gorgeous gorges. The flippant flies at the zenith sun's fiery mid-day and the frisky flippant felines of a full moon's dusk. Oh dear, listen to me! Going off like I'm bleeding Charles Buggery Bukowski. Let's get on with it then, shall we?
Today's question is from a delightful young woman from the BIG APPLE (how exciting!)
Dear Care:
I have a problem with drunk texting guys. Short of quitting booze (which is totally unrealistic) and getting rid of my phone (which is almost as unrealistic), I don't have a clue as to how to stop myself. Care, how can I curb my drunk-texting prob?
Love
"Gittles"
My Dearest "Gittles":
Well, obviously there are a few issues here that need to be addressed. I have quite a bit to say so I'm going to break it down for you:
1. You have it all wrong.
Ladies need spirits to survive. Impudent men abound! What with their strong wills and blood-filled erections poking through their slacks, they have it over a delightful woman like yourself. Spirits allow us to transcend society's expectations of us and behave like the brazen whores that men want us to be! They don't call it "Liquid Courage" for nothing my dear... so get up to that bar, ask for a double, unbutton that top button and keep shamelessly flirting with every Tom, Dick and Harry that pokes your thigh. (Note: I do recommend, though, that you visit your local church every Sunday for your requisite repentance.)
2. Close Your Phone, Don't get rid of it.
In my day, every house had two household phones at most. The phones were not portable. We didn't carry on all day long, pressing buttons and sending "texts". These modern conveniences, although rather impressive, do not always have as positive of an effect on our day-to-day lives as one might hope. I do understand, though, that the modern hedonistic lady requires such advanced amenities, so take heed of my counsel: The moment you look at the phone, after you've typed a text that says, oh... I don't know... something like "Fuk u ufukejer ihate u come eatmy peachez an stik itin", look at the text and read it twice. Say to yourself "I am a Traditional Lady"... say it again... and then again (even if you're so arse-over-tit that it comes out sounding like "Eyemall Cherdishinaleaydummm") At this moment look down at your phone and instead of hitting the SEND button, hit the delete button or better yet, just CLOSE YOUR PHONE. You see dear, you're still typing what you want to say, but the next day you wont be kicking yourself for it. The "traditional lady" part is just something I threw in there to personalize it... a little "Care's Flair" if you will. You could also just remove these dangerous numbers from your phone... just an afterthought.
3. Find an easy snog and shag his brains out.
The best way to distract yourself from drunk-texting a man, is by having another one there to fill the void of emptiness inside you that you think the aforementioned drunk-text-reciever would fill. I must say this: NO MAN WILL EVER FILL THAT VOID EVER. The ONLY THING that has EVER gotten close to filling it was a brie-smothered baguette that I had on a trip to France in the 80's, but the feeling only lasted for a couple hours. Alas, seeing that you live in Brooklyn and not Bruxelles, a nice hard sausage in the mash is what it's going to have to be. Doesn't matter what he looks like, as long as his bits and pieces are in check he'll get the job done. You'll have him passed out next to you whilst you lay awake, covered in his tartar sauce, trying to figure out what went wrong during your formative years in no time.
4. Accept the innevitable.
I'm going to be frank, dear. It sounds like you're a lost cause, so if I were you, I would just accept that I am going to drunk text the first bastard that comes up on my phone and get on with it. No point in dwelling. Who knows dear, it might be that random "letsfuk comeget me fuker" that lands you the man of your dreams! Dirty whore text now, White picket fence in 24 months. Live the life of your dreams!
5. I really should be paid more to write this bleeding column.
My salary is total and complete bollocks. Seriously, It's shit.
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I hope that these tips will help you with your issue my dear. If you ever need help, you know who to come to.
Your Dearest,
YCARE!Y
PS: Today's sweater(vest) is in honor of "gittles". I like to call it the summerton look-at-these vest.
Do you have a question for Care? Email yours to splutters@gmail.com with "Question for Care" as the subject. Care is here for YOU!
posted by Gregory at
10:09 AM
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