Ask a Stand-Up Comedian
Have you always wanted to know the secrets to life? To a happy relationship? How to drive the big rigs and experience the fulfilling career you've always wanted?
No one affiliated with this Web site knows any of those things, but if you send in your questions, we'll be glad to answer them in a completely useless and at times cosmically insulting way. WARNING: These columns get raunchy sometimes. Read at your own risk.
DEAR ABBY: My husband started working the graveyard shift two months ago.
It has been a hard transition for us, but even harder for our 11-year-old
son, "Ryan." For the past couple of weeks, Ryan has been overly concerned about someone breaking into our third-floor apartment while we're asleep. I've tried my
best to reassure Ryan, but he keeps having nightmares about someone
breaking into our place -- or my parents' apartment -- and harming or
killing us. He wakes up screaming and crying.
Do you have any suggestions about how I can make him feel more secure?
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SLEEPLESS IN NEW WESTMINSTER (Actual "Dear Abby" question)
Erin Conroy: Yeah, so the boy is having trouble sleeping, eh? And Dad isn't around to quell his fears. That's a shame. A real shame.
But what's an even bigger shame, is the fact that you drove your husband out of the house in the first place! No man in his right mind willingly picks up a graveyard shift. (Unless of course he works in a graveyard, but come on now -- don't feed me that BS) You must keep a very "cold house" if the man you married would rather spend his nights gorging himself on Cheetos and watching "Girls Gone Wild" tapes at the security desk, or folding stack after stack of Thai food menus whilst getting whipped in the back.
Doubtless your constant nagging and never-present sex drive have forced your better half into the arms of a slave-driving 7-11 manager who, not unlike yourself, demands nothing short of perfection as far as even the most mundane chores is concerned. But at least at the 7-11, your spouse is rewarded with a cigarette break. You on the other hand, just find another way to strip him of his manhood. Succubus has never been a more appropriate word than it is right now: You are a succubus. And your partner would rather wade waist-deep through the mire that is late-night taxi driving, than have to listen to another tirade from you about the correct amount of dishsoap to be used in the washer!! Hang your head in shame, you soul-stealing Harpie!!! Will you never cease to drive home the fact that your heartless shell will inevitably outlive his weak human frame?!?!
And by the by-it doesn't really matter what floor you live on, burglars can get to you no matter what if they want to bad enough. That's why the Devil made ladders. Share that with your 11-year old son. Hopefully it will take his mind off what a blood-sucking wench his mother is.