Dear Greta,
Apparently, several years ago I impregnated a woman. I thought I killed her in a rage, but it turns out that she gave birth to not one child but two. Twins! My boss says I have to turn them to the dark side, but I'd rather cut them both in half with my laser sword. In today's economy, how much is job security worth? My boss made me what I am but his wrinkly ass is getting on my nerves and I'd like to make a change.
Want To Cleave Kids And Go But Worried By Wall Street
Dear WTCKAGBWBWS,
Holy Balls! Looks like you won the Fuck Up of the Year contest! First of all, I know how you feel; Wall Street is just a big, fat, puss-oozing third nipple on the map of America! I mean, don’t ya know, I was at the grocer’s the other day and I just had to use a coupon for my name brand Brillo Pads (they just work so much better than that generic shit!) and that bitch, Jennifer, behind the counter just looked at me like I was dirtier than Lindsey Lohan’s firecrotch! And then she said to me, to Greta VanWinklestein, “Um, this is expired, m’am,” Can you believe that shit? So you know what I said to her? I said, “Little Miss Hot Shit, I know your momma and if you heard the filth comin’ right out of that pretty little pucker of yours, she’d slap you all the way to China!” And you know what? I never got to use that damned coupon!
So, my advice to you, mister, is to march straight up to your wrinkly boss and tell him what’s what. If you want to cleave your children with your fancy laser sword then go ahead and do it! Shit can rain on your boss, for all I care; and if he gives you trouble, use that fancy laser sword on him!
Truthfully yours,
Greta
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Dear Greta,
I sure hope you can help me because I don’t think my friends would understand! If a man farts on your entrée, does that mean you shouldn’t go down on him on the first date? I’m so confused!
Does Entrée Farting Mean Love?
Dear DEFML,
Oh honey, honey, honey. I’m so glad someone finally grew some nards and came out and asked me this. Now, you won’t find this in Miss Manners-Emily Post’s diary, I can guaran-fucking-tee that! Now see back in 1973, one Mr. Richard Dreyfuss pulled a similar stint with me. We were out on a lovely date when he slipped me some good old fashioned angel dust and don’t ya know, I was trippin’ balls all evening! And I did what every good Christian girl is not supposed to do; I went down. I went downtown. Get it? I went down to his Chinatown. And what do ya know? It was amazing. I mean, we had all types of orgasms.
So, here’s my advice to you, sweetiekins. Just do it. If you like him, then why not? I mean unless it’ just a really rank fart—you know, the kind that resonates in the back of your throat causing you to dry heave for thirty minutes. Also, you need to be thinking, How would I feel about a Dutch Oven? Because you know that if you get near a man that farts on your entrée, he’s going to pin you under his comforter and let a real big one rip and let you stew in it.
Truthfully yours,
Greta
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OMG Greta! I’m so glad I’ve found you! When you said you would give me truth or I can shove it in my pooper I KNEW you were the advice writer for me! Greta let me tell you that I am obsessed with BON JOVI. I just discovered his new music video “Living Like a Prayer” and I simply must must MUST smell him. I am obsessed with this man and his smell! How do you think I can recreate it? I want to make teddles, my teddy bear, smell like BON JOVI so I can sleep in his scent all night long and dream about him. Can you help me?
MUST SMELL MUSK
Dear MSM,
OMG? What is this shit? I’m not a nurse, I don’t know your cutesy little shorthand. Now, I must admit, I didn’t know who Mr. Jovi was at first, then I realized, he’s that cute man from that show Ally McBeal! Whatever happened to that show, by the way? My neighbor Saundra and I would watch it with a big bowl of Newman’s Popcorn. That man knows his corn! *Editor’s Note: Ms. Derwinklestein sends her condolences to the Newmans.*
Well, with the help of my nephew KYLE, I searched through the Internets and found that Mr. Jovi is from New Jersey and Italy! Tres exotic! So let’s brainstorm here: Italians, pizza, mozzarella cheese, tomato sauce, boots, Lamborginis, lasagna, meatball subs. Okay, so for the Italian part of him, you’ll need to find some tomato sauce and leather. Let us move on to New Jersey: trash, wet dog, hypodermic needles, broken condoms, funnel cakes. So for the New Jersey side you should find some old, sweaty socks and latex and maybe a dash of cinnamon. Ok, mix that up with some water and pour that into your finest glass jar and let it sit under a heat lamp for a month. After that month, you can douse your precious Teddles in Eau de Jovi!
Or, you could go to Kenneth Cole’s website, because apparently, Mr. Jovi has already created his own fragrance R.S.V.P. (Per Entertainment Tonight http://www.etonline.com/fashion/news/2007/01/38577/ )
Truthfully yours,
Greta
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Greta,
I hope it feels good to be out there, telling everyone what's best (just like you always do.) But we who know you know what you're really about. We know how you take and take and take and never give in return. It's just not RIGHT, Greta. The world can be your oyster and you can still SHARE it with somebody. I want my charlie cactus and I would really like my Byrds LPs. Maybe we could meet somewhere to talk it over, perhaps over breakfast at the usual place? I miss you.
- Daryl
Daryl,
Jesus cheeses! Readers, let me explain, I HAVE to put this letter here because Daryl will not let me ignore him! Once, he sent me a UPS package and inside was a dead bird and a note attached that said, “Wanna trade?” Are you shitting me, Daryl? A dead bird, really? I don’t even wanna know what he would trade for his Charlie Cactus. So here is the long and dry of it, Daryl, I will meet you at the usual place and I will bring your Byrds LP but I will be bringing some protection, you hear?
Your big sister,
Greta
P.S. Charlie Cactus is dead.
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Greeting Greta,
I rahul "paul" delnabi from reublic quatar. I find you on internets. Send me the sexy pictures plz. With the peanut butters, hello?
I don’t really know where to start with this one. I’m not really very fluent in foreigner. But I did make out peanut butter, which reminds me of a picture my niece sent me of her baby! So adorable, this kid. And he’s smarter than a whip. Or so I think he will be. Enjoy!
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