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October - 10/01/2011 to 10/31/2011
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A Little October Fun!
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Wednesday, December 15, 2010

Date Hasn't Called

Dear Miss Havana: My date hasn’t called me back? Should I call him? Sincerely Fretting.

Dear Fretting: While this never happened to me as a living, vibrant, seductive and drop-dead gorgeous young woman, I did once consider what I might do if it ever did—shit no! Get a life. If the guy wanted to talk to you, he’d call. I know. I know. You want me to say he should light himself on fire for not calling back like he said he would, right? Everyone lies about that. Adjust! Everyone lies about everything. Would you feel better if he told the truth? Do you really want to hear that he can’t stand you, you idiot! Listen up! Just move on. No tears for you! Miss Havana

Teacher Hitting On Student

Dear Miss Havana: My teacher is hitting on me. What should I do? Please help. Concerned but Tempted.

Dear Tempted: What’s the problem, is he ugly? If not, there could be a year’s lunch money in it if you play your cards right. There’s also the possibility of a really good grade in his class. Just do what feels right. Yours. Miss Havana

Pregnant and on pills

Dear Miss Havana: I just found out I’m pregnant, even though I’ve been on birth controls all along. I’m afraid my boyfriend will leave me if I tell him. What should I do? Thank you. Blessed but Conflicted.

Dear Conflicted: This is a fairly common problem with a simple solution. You actually have to ingest those pills at regular intervals rather than just being ‘on them’, but that horse has already left the barn. Your situation could be tricky if your boyfriend has been on the same sheet with you but not on the same page, especially relative to the pills. I recommend you play a question and answer game with him, something like, ‘What has two arms, two legs and a tail?’ See if he can guess it’s his own little critter. If not, it’s time for a biology lesson. Best of luck. Miss Havana

Tuesday, December 7, 2010

Bad Breath

“Dear Miss Havana: My wife’s breath smells like rotten sauerkraut. It’s so bad I can no longer kiss her, and intimacy of any kind is out of the question. Is there anything I can do? Very Truly Yours, Gagging in Georgia.”

“Dear Gagging: As a former substitute teacher, I feel compelled to point out that rotten sauerkraut is repetitiously redundant. Please use one or the other, not both. That aside, there are several possibilities to consider. First, are you certain she wants intimacy with you? Maybe you’re the real problem and not her breath. Please consider that before reading further.

“Okay, since you continued, here’s an interesting fact. Wild animals don’t get gum disease. Really. Feral cats and dogs might be loaded with parasites, but they generally have beautiful teeth. The point is obvious. Eating mice and gophers promotes good dental health. Try that. On the off chance that doesn’t work, the next weapon in your arsenal should be Glade or Lysol spray. Unless, of course, your son would be tempted to steal the can to get high off the fumes. Next, assuming brushing and flossing are not permitted in your home, try spraying bleach in her mouth while she’s snoring. And if the bleach doesn't do the job, add Aquadent to her drinking water. That even works for hunting dogs, and if it can make those bastards smell better after they kill off a plate of rotten meat, your wife should be easy. Finally, doggie treats shouldn’t be ruled out, as long as they’re the kind that clean teeth while being chewed. Hope you find this helpful. Miss Havana.”

Saturday, December 4, 2010

Telling a guy it's over

Dear Miss Havana: How do you tell a guy it's over? Sincerely, Connie Conundrum

Dear Conundrum: Please feel free to use my form letter below.

Dear ________,

I regret to inform you that you have been eliminated from further contention as Mr Right. As you are probably aware, the competition was exceedingly tough and dozens of well-qualified candidates such as yourself also failed to make the final cut.

I will, however, keep your name on file should an opening become available. So that you may find better success in your future romantic endeavours, please allow me to offer the following reason(s) you were disqualified from the competition.

Tick those that apply

___Your last name is objectionable. I can't imagine taking it, hyphenating it, or subjecting my children to it.

___Your first name is objectionable. It's just not something I can picture myself yelling out in a fit of passion.

___The fact that our dining experiences to date has left MY wallet a little lighter, and YOUR pants a little tighter!

___You failed the 20 Question Rule, i.e., I asked you 20 questions about yourself before you asked me more than one about myself.

___Your constant e-mailing shows me you have TOO much time on your hands!

___Your legs are skinnier than mine.

___You're too short. Any son that we produced would inevitably be beaten up repeatedly at recess.

__I find your inability to fix my car extraordinarily unappealing.

__The phrase "My Mother" has popped up far too often in conversation.

___You still live with your parents.

__Although I do enjoy the X-Files, I find your wardrobe of Alien uniforms a little disconcerting.

___Your frequent references to your ex-girlfriend lead me to suspect that you are some sort of psychotic stalker.

___Your ability to belch the alphabet is not a trait that I am seeking in a long-term partner.

___Your height is out of proportion to your weight. If you should however, happen to gain the necessary 17 vertical inches, please resubmit your application.

___I am out of your league, set your sights lower next time.

Sincerely, ___________

Wednesday, December 1, 2010

Squealing During Sex

Dear Miss Havana: My neighbor squeals like a pig while having sex. I can hear this unsightly noise through the wall. How do I broach the subject with her? Sincerely, Itchy in Indiana.

Dear Itchy: Assuming I’ve read your signature block correctly, you need an invitation to her party. That could be tough because some women really don’t like to share despite the benefit of gaining a really good friend. Nevertheless, you should try to worm your way in. Be seductive and flirtatious with her, but always remember you must have her buy-in before getting his. Work your way into her heart and he’ll come along, if you get my drift. On the other hand, if I’ve misread your intent and you really want to stop the howling, try inviting your neighbor to dinner. Serve roast pork. Then, during dessert, casually bring up the pig slaughtering process. Throw in a few examples of those horrific squeals, and casually mention that those noises can penetrate apartment walls easily. Then ask if she's been killing pigs at night because it sounds like a damn slaughterhouse over there. You should have good sleep thereafter!

Wednesday, November 24, 2010

Coping with Farts at Night

Dear Miss Havana. My husband farts all night long and I can hardly breathe. What can I do? Signed, Breathless

Dear Breathless. First, be prepared. Be sure to keep a flashlight handy to ensure he hasn’t shit the bed. If not, slither out and then toss a match into the cloud from a distance. No odor; no problem.

Long Nose Hairs

Dear Miss Havana. My husband lets his nose hairs grow to the point they look like bottle brushes. He refuses to trim them. What can I do? Sincerely, Not Tickled

Dear Not Tickled. Yeeeuch! I can see why this might bother you, but here’s a quick and easy solution. Wait until he’s asleep, and then fire up your trusty butane cigarette lighter. Depending on nose hair density, a controlled burn could be tricky. You’ll need to be quick because the conflagration could crown, but it is possible to completely clear both nostrils before he’s fully awake. You can do the ears later. By the way, the same approach works for toenails, but I recommend a small propane torch for that. Just remember to pull up the sheets far enough to avoid a bedroom blaze. After all, a proper lady should never singe her hair.

Miss Havana's Advice Qualifications

Dear Miss Havana. What qualifies you to give advice? Some of what you say seems to be at the fringe of believability. Are you sane? Just Wondering.

Dear Wondering. So, you want to know my qualifications for giving advice? WTF? Did anyone ever ask Abby or Ann anything like that? So what makes me a target? Because I’m prettier? Asking me a question like that is like asking what makes a woman strong and the answer is the same. Living with a man, you twit! Isn’t the only function of a male to make a woman miserable?

But rather than point fingers, let’s just say I’ve been through Hell and that uniquely qualifies me. No. Really. I’ve been through Hell. Lucifer was my “man”, if you can call that shithead a man. Living in his lair didn’t get me a website initially, but it made me strong to survive...and gave me a daughter. You might get to meet her one day if you play your cards wrong, but that’s another story. Fact is, going to Hell isn’t recommended, and my time with Lucifer isn’t what got me there in the first place—it only gave me a new perspective, attitude being everything.

Mostly it was the life I led before that catastrophe that gives me the experience to enlighten others, at least in terms they can understand. That was when I actually liked men, or better, liked what they could do for me. Face it, the “other side” didn’t give me this beautiful exterior just to have me squander it working as a bank teller, did they?

Okay, so I ruffled a few feathers, and perhaps a drug deal or two went south. BFD. It could happen to anyone. I was a substitute teacher during the week, and a party girl on weekends. My students learned, or faced my whistling paddle. On weekends, Chicago pulled out all the stops—the Windy City was my playground. And play I did. It was just unfortunate there were so many bad sports, or I’d still be racking up profits and destroying lives. Mine was a short life, but so chocked full of experience I can barely cram it all in the advice I offer now—advice you’ll never get from Ann or Miss Manners!

Wednesday, November 17, 2010

Strap-on Lure

Dear Miss Havana: I need help. My girlfriend claims I’m an inside joke—the kind she gets when I'm inside her. She gets more insulting by the day. Is there anything I can do? Downtrodden in Denver

Dear Downtrodden: Yes, I see the problem. She doesn’t like you, but she’s letting you hang around until she can find something better. This is simple economics. The market is flooded with low-cost, high-quality penis. Just look around. As a result, demand for your services has gone down, way down. That’s the nature of competition. It’s frigging great for the free market, but sucks for you. But don't worry because I've got an answer for that. Marketing. You have the package and the product practically sells itself, but with so many on the shelf, what makes yours stand out? I'm not saying you need to buy a belt buckle that says, "Open for Business", but strapping something on under those loose-fitting pants that will draw a little attention wouldn’t hurt. Learn a line or two, and be creative.

P.S. In case you’re too slow to notice, I didn’t say a damn thing about trying to save a relationship that has already gone down the toilet.

Barefoot and Pregnant

Dear Miss Havana: My wife spends a lot of much time looking at porn. I don’t think that’s healthy, and definitely not something a good Quaker should be doing. There are chores to do. How can I stop her disgusting habit. Thank you for your help. Piously Offended

Dear Pious: When you hike your leg to claim ownership, you are pissing away your only chance of making your relationship work. Lose the ego. Your wife likes men, she likes to look at them, and she may actually begin attracting a few. That’s as natural as breathing and you can’t do a thing about it. The only thing you can change is yourself. Start by meeting a few of her needs. Clean yourself up, buck up, bulk up, and take her out now and them—even if it means buying her shoes and foregoing that tenth child.

Tongue in Cheek

Dear Miss Havana: My girlfriend used to crave oral sex, but now she won’t let my tongue anywhere that thing. What can I do to re-stimulate her craving? Hungry for More

Dear Hungry: You idiot. How do you spell V-A-G-I-N-A-L-Y-E-A-S-T-I-N-F-E-C-T-I-O-N? Don’t you get it yet – that “thing” is an incubator, you dolt. Put a fetus in there and ZOWIE, you get a kid. Put a microbe in there, and OUCH, you get a bloom you certainly don’t want. No matter how hungry you might be, give the girl some credit for a little common sense, and munch on something else besides THAT taco.

Wednesday, November 10, 2010

Naked on a silver platter

Dear Miss Havana. Short of stripping naked and serving yourself up on a silver platter on a dining room table, what's the best way to let a man know you're interested and avoiding all the slutty stuff? Signed...Tired of games, but still want to play.

Dear Tired. I though Harrison Ford said it best in Six Days, Seven Nights, to wit, 'We're guys, all a girl has to do is show up'. But if that doesn't work, be sure the silve platter is NOT a chafing dish. By the way, do you own any 'fuck me' pumps?

Misunderstood foreplay

Dear Miss Havana. The last time I asked for more foreplay, hubby wiggled four fingers and played. Yes, it was fun, but that's not what I meant. Help! Sincerely, Classy Cassie

Dear Classy Cassie. Be agressive. Explain to him that a bird in the hand IS NOT worth two in the bush under any circumstance, regardless of what that damn Geico add claims. The guy that thought that little lie up didn’t have a clue.

Fuck me pumps

Dear Miss Havana. Would you recommend the "fuck me pumps," or the "don't fuck with me boots" for the Tuesday night PTO meeting? The agenda is fund raising and nondenominational holiday hoopla. Thanks, Luscious Lusha or after happy hourLusha the Lush

Dear Luscious. Even your name makes me want to know you. Okay, about the shoes. Your selection depends on your objectives. If your objective is to avoid tasking of any kind, I'd definitely go with the 'Don't fuck with me' boots. On the other hand, if there's someone who interest you in a special way on that board, DEFINITELY go with the 'fuck me' ones. But remember, no white after labor day!

Backyard bidet

Dear Miss Havana. My girlfriend’s mass pales in comparison to almost everyone. She can’t reach around her ass to clean herself after using the toilet. How can I help? Sincerely, Gagging in Georgia.

Dear Gagging. We'd all like to eat our feelings, but you need to explain to her they shouldn’t be wrapped in bacon and cookie dough, breaded and deep fried, dusted in powdered sugar, and kissed with a beurre blanc demi glaze. The next time she grabs a donut, just offer, “You gonna eat that repressed emotion?” She’ll get the message in time. Now, I'm not saying I wouldn't date a fat guy, but they gotta bring a little something extra to the table, and it better not be covered in gravy. But back to your immediate problem. Spread her cheeks in the back yard and then use the garden hose. In Lucifer’s home we call that the “backyard bidet.” If you’re visiting friends, borrow a beer and shake the bottle really hard before removing the cap, but ONLY after your girlfriend is prepared as above, otherwise you’ll be forced to try to drink that fire hose, and that can be tricky.

Conjugating fuck

Dear Miss Havana. My boyfriend and I have been arguing over the most used word in the English language, and perhaps you can help us resolve the issue. As a former teacher, can you tell me if the word “fuck” can be conjugated? Very Truly Yours, Grammarian in Georgia.

Dear Grammarian. Hell, yes, but that word usually more closely associated with copulation than conjugation. What’s more, fuck is the only word in the English language that retains its meaning regardless of prefix, suffix, tense, or usage. It can be a verb, noun, gerund, or just about anything else, but there can be a problem if it’s a dangling participle. Furthermore, application of the word is limited only by one’s imagination. For example, prefucktroily, would be routine fucking, while a prefucker is someone who will screw you, but not in a good way, no matter what. Imagination is the key.

Stopping constant sex

Dear Miss Havana. My husband wants to have sex all the time. How can I stem his libido? Sincerely, Sore in Singapore.

Dear Sore. A time-tested methodology is lack of hygiene. Don’t shave your pits, and don’t clean them either. The problem will solve itself. Another method is inviting your trashy friends over, serving lots of alcohol, and going to bed early…alone. Your husband will find his own way to the bedroom in time, but chances are he won’t want sex, depending on how trashy your friend really is.