Dream a little dream

Dear Bartender: Last night the strangest thing happened. I had a sex dream about my wife.

When I mentioned it to my special lady (not my wife), she hit the ceiling. What more does she want? She already gets most of my attention, a good portion of my income and a killer rent-free apartment on Lex and 33rd. Now she wants to control my dreams, too??

Please, bartender, help me talk some sense into her. Or is another mink coat in order?

— Stray

Dear Strayer: Some dreams are not to be interpreted literally. Tell your mistress that your dream merely represented how efficiently the two of you are screwing over your wife.

What the Dems don’t want you to see

Dear Readers: We’ve all seen the famous photo of Nancy Pelosi, the one causing all the excitement over at Momsquawk:

But PapaBen alerted me to rumors of a SECOND photo, taken immediately after, where we get to see where that gavel of hers landed.

I had to cash in a large favor with a disgruntled Republican to get it.

It’s better to know.

Ask a Mommyblog

Hey all… Our buddy mommasteph has an excellent post over at her mommy blog. See for yourself.

I See London… No, I Mean France!

Dear Bartender: I am I guess you would call a regular at a local watering hole. When I arrive, the bartender nods and gets out my regular go-to beverage of choice. I frequent the joint so much that they have given me a nickname: “Coors Light Nick.”

Occasionally, I like to switch things up, don’t want to tire out the taste buds on the bold flavors of Coors, so I’ll treat myself to a Bud instead. This seems to frustrate the bartender to no end. It’s not as if I make this request after a Coors Light uncapped, and I have always been a very generous patron (tipping and bjs in the back). So I don’t understand where the frustration lies.

I did not visit this establishment this weekend, as I do have a social life that extends beyond the bar on the rare weekend. I’m nervous now that the bartender, who is already frustrated with my changing drinks, will now shun me! In fact, I threw up this morning just thinking about it. I know I give him great bjs, he is always very appreciative of it, and gives me a free Coors Light afterwards (which is good, because his joy juice tastes kind of skunky), so that may be my saving grace! But I’m just plum nervous about how he’ll treat me this Thursday. I may have a nervous breakdown beforehand!

So, what should I do to ensure that our strong bartender/patron relationship does not get left in the dust like some back alley hooker who’s been promised the stars and the moon from her john before she gets thrown out of a limo on the West Side Highway for dribbling spooge on the Corinthian leather? Also, what color underwear should I wear tomorrow?

Regards,
Coors Light Nick

Dear Nicole: I can think of several ways you’re frustrating your bartender, the most obvious being that no sensible person can see the point in switching between Bud and Coors Light. Why not just drink piss and save yourself some cash?

But, after giving it some thought, I’ve decided that your bartender is simply frustrated because yours is the only drink he ever remembers. I mean, it’s not as if all the customers are pleasuring him orally in the back… right?

Bartenders are like everyone else: they just want to get things right once in a while.

And the color of your underwear should always be clean.

Mitch ‘n’ Match, Part 5

A loyal reader wants some more Match Game ’07. I’m all for it. Here goes:

After hearing from a focus group made up of sex perverts, NBC finally named their new soap opera “A Tale Of Two [BLANK].”

Doin’ the Twist, Pt 2

Dear Bartender: Help! It’s after midnight and my party is dying. Maybe I should have gotten more practice in before inviting 20 people to my house (50 showed up). Now that they’re here, however… what can I do to get the action going??

Dear Party Host: As you have now learned, more people does not necessarily = a good party. Controllable factors include 1) the quality of the people and 2) whether or not you’ve run out of beer. If it’s too late to wrestle with either (Blue Laws come to mind), “Fuck Twister” comes in handy.

Get your hands on some construction paper. Cut out circles in green, blue, red & yellow. Randomly assign colors. Quickly assemble a homemade “spinner” that demands such things as “Red performs oral sex on Yellow” and “Green gives Blue an enthusiastic shrimp job.” Spin the dial every fifteen minutes.

I had a great time with this game just last Friday.

Genus of ancient extinct Namibian bush (var.)

Dear Bartender: There’s a bar I go to (in Julesburg, CO) where the bartender likes to do the crossword. He makes it a group event, involving anyone at the bar with half a brain. But he insists on holding the pen. No one else is allowed to write in the answers — they have to clear it with him first.

What’s up with that? What makes him so special?

— Crossed

Dear Crossed: I suggest that you teach that bastard a lesson: bring him a scratch-off lottery card but don’t give him a coin.

Mend It, End It, Bend It

Dear Bartender: I’ve been sitting on my ass for the last few years collecting welfare for me and my three kids. This past week, I got a letter from my case worker telling me that I need to go to classes. Now, I know that I’m a smart woman, a grown woman. Tell me why I should have to go to some class to find out how to get a job? And how do they expect me to find childcare in a week when I’ve been sitting here at home for two years? What are these people thinking?

— hard luck momma

Dear Momma: You want me to tell you why you should get a job just because the government is telling you to? Is it imperative that I agree with the government? Frankly, I think the corporate world should pay you to stay home and not hassle the rest of us just trying to make the global economy function.

On Your Mark…

Dear Bartender: I’m ready to ask my GF to marry me. What are some of the signs that SHE’S ready?

A little backstory: she’s a bit older than me (seven years) and she’s about to graduate from nursing school. We’ve been dating for six months. She divorced her first husband and he has custody of all three kids. She sees them sometimes but usually only when her ex-husband is out of town and her sister-in-law arranges something on the sly. She likes me a lot but only when I have money.

I plan to come into money very soon. Should I ask her then?

— Fiancé Wanabe

Dear Wanna: Don’t rob the liquor store until you make her sign a pre-nup.

Boys Will Be…

Dear Bartender: My wife’s sister flirts with me. She calls my wife and if I pick up the phone she wants to talk to me. When we’re together at Christmas she always wants to know how my boys are doing. (That’s code for… what? I have two daughters.)

I don’t want to bet my marriage on anything less than a sure thing. How do I proceed?

— Joe

Dear Joe: That’s definitely a suspicious comment about the “boys.” If she’s looking at your crotch when she says it, she’s good to go. If she’s looking at her cocktail, stick with your wife.

Happy 1987, Everyone!

Dear Bartender: I took Slynne’s advice and brought Mary Anne Mobley a rather large, black, latex sex toy as a hostess gift when I attended her intimate potluck supper the other evening.

But I have reason to believe that the tag on my hostess gift got mixed up with one of the other guests — as in her thank you note, Mary Anne wrote that she and Gary enjoyed meeting me and appreciated my thoughtful gift, although she caught Gary with it later that night, and that unfortunately he choked on it! When I called after getting her note to see how he was doing, she said he was fine, but some of the nuts from my Stuckey’s Pecan Log that I brought got lodged under Gary’s partial plate, causing him to choke, and necessitating a trip to the dentist. I am not sure who got credit for my gift (although I learned through the grapevine that at the last minute, Mary Anne switched place cards so that Sherman Hemsley was on her left!!!). (Question #1) Do you think I should set the record straight? After all, I don’t want the Mobley-Collins’ to think I would be so frugal as to bring a simple Stuckey’s Pecan Log as a hostess gift to their swanky potluck supper. (Note to Mitch — if you think this question is more appropriate for Miss Manners, would you be so kind as to forward it?)

By the way, it was a lovely evening, even though Gary had on way too much cologne (who knew they still sold Jovan’s Musk for Men??). And Mary Anne is a lovely hostess and a true lady (although after her fourth melonball colada, she told the funniest story about Arlene Francis passing gas on the set of “What’s My Line” almost sending Kitty Carlisle to the hospital — but it seems I may be straying from my additional questions). I must have made a favorable impression as I did get invited to Vickki Lawrence’s (Vickki!) condo for Thanksgiving. (Questions # 2, 3, 4) I think I am going to play it safe with the hostess gift this time and bring Vickki (Vickki!) wine — so with turkey — red or white? And also — Mitchell, don’t you think I need some younger celebrity friends? And you STILL have no way to contact Anderson Cooper?

I am eagerly awaiting your reply as Thanksgiving is fast approaching…

Your Friend,
Jay

Shit, I really gotta start checkig my inbox more often.

Jay: Hope your holidays were great, uh, not just your Thanksgiving but your New Year’s, too. Do you have any plans yet for MLK Day?

I’m real embarrassed to be answering this so late, but here goes: Don’t bother setting the record straight. Don’t judge your friends by their ages. Anderson won’t return my phone calls. White or red is fine with turkey; it all depends on which part of the bird you happen to like.

Happy Holidays!

Say “When”

Dear Bartender: I have some liquor purchased in the early 1990’s, still unopened. Is it safe to drink?

— I.A.

Dear I.A.: Depends on your judgement. Do you know when to stop?

Mother Of All Bombs

Dear Bartender: What do you say when your 14 year-old niece tells you she’s pregnant?

— A “Great” Aunt

Dear Great: I doubt you can improve upon what a friend said when his niece announced she was pregnant (at 13): “Cool. How long have you been trying?”

Se n’est pas si bon

Dear Bartender: “She’s a maniac, maniac/On the floor/And she dances like she’s never danced before.”

All these years later and I still don’t understand: She dances like she’s never danced before. How is that a good thing? I mean, she has absolutely no experience as a dancer. And we’re supposed to watch this whole movie about her dancing? I’m guessing that this probably should have stopped bugging me by now, but it hasn’t.

— Shit out of luck

Dear Shit: You think you got troubles? I’ve got “Cherchez la Femme” stuck in my head.

Girlfriends

Dear Bartender: I kissed a girl. Should I tell my husband?

Dear Dyke: Questions like this — where you don’t give me nearly enough information to answer intelligently — I give to my Magic 8 Ball. There’s at least a somewhat decent chance that the answer will be helpful.

Magic 8 Ball says: Not unless you want to drive him nuts.

Olber’s Paradox

Dear Bartender: Has the universe stopped expanding? Or am I bringing some kind of cosmic, anthropomorphic element to what’s essentially an infinite loop of inevitable existence?

I wouldn’t ask if I hadn’t noticed that the moon looked full tonight for the third night in a row.

Please be brutally honest.

— Sleepless in Sanity, TX

Dear Sanity: The moon is still full. I saw it just now. Freaky. I was about to say that the universe had heard Peggy Lee singing “Is That All There Is?” once too often and decided that she was on to something and just gave up. Break out the booze and have a ball and all that.

But then I read that — in a stationary universe — the night sky would be blazing with light. It’s the speed at which it’s expanding (and the tendency of the light from distant galaxies to shift toward the red end of the spectrum) that allows us to see the moon at all.

That’s when I decided to make my nightcap a double.

!Aaah-ah, yawa em ekat ot gnimoc er’yehT

Dear Bartender: I need a list of the worst party songs ever. Long story why, but I need bad music that drives everyone nuts. Short of a CD of ostrich screams, where do I begin?

Dear Party Host: This could be fun. I have lots of suggestions, but some of these songs may be hard to find. (Why would that be? I have no idea.)

1. Rupert Hine, “Another Stranger”; 2. Godley and Créme, “I Pity Inanimate Objects”; 3. Art of Noise, “Opus 4”; 4. The Normal, “Warm Leatherette”; 5. The Rolling Stones, “Gomper”; 6. Smart E’s, “Sesame’s Treet”; 7. Ghost to Falco, “A Relatively Useless Decay Theory”; 8. The Beatles, “Revolution 9” and 9. (if you can find it) the flip side to the ’45 of “They’re Coming To Take Me Away, Ha-Haaa!” by Napoleon XIV (the title of which I do not have the energy to spell out here).

With this playlist I can guarantee the worst party ever.

Then again, when you say “bad” maybe you’re thinking more along the lines of Alan O’Day singing “Undercover Angel.”