Dear Captain Obvious: How I yearn for some excitement. All I seem to have the energy for these days is screaming after my maid and offering unsolicited advice to various friends and family. I play bridge on Thursdays and count my millions on Saturdays, other than that I serve no other purpose. Any ideas you can give an old gal to pep things up? Old Timer.
Dear Old Timer: When she was alive, granny never tired of telling us kids how much she enjoyed Extreme Ironing, which combines the thrills of an extreme outdoor activity with the satisfaction of a well pressed shirt. To this day my most prized possession is a framed picture of granny smoothing out intricate pleats from my plaid pants whilst she snowboarded down a hill at 120 mph. Alas, granny met her end when a sudden turn catapulted her into a high double flip and through a billboard marketing health insurance for seniors, ironic I know, but at least she died doing something she loved. Perhaps you can find similar fulfillment in such a sport. Think what fun you could have astride your maid’s shoulders as she irons your 800 thread count bed sheets while parachuting through the air. For more info check out the website: http://www.extremeironing.com
Dear Captain Obvious: I just married the complete opposite of my ex-husband and I couldn’t be happier. Whereas my ex thought I served no other purpose than to bear his seedlings and wash his feet with my hair, my new husband is all about loving, supporting and treating me with equality and respect. Gone are the days when II Divo would serenade me on my backyard gazebo—I have Marco the Mexican guitarist instead. So long, first class—I’ll hitch my wagon onto coach and watch as I squeeze my ass into a window seat next to an old lady who falls asleep on my shoulder as her cat pees and meows in the carrier resting in her lap. I don’t need the Colonnade Room when I have the romance of being married amidst chapel ruins not long ago ravaged by fire. A wedding gown stitched by the magical elves at Vera Wang? Ha! I rather you hand me that cheap white muslin frock hanging on your mannequin—I have a feeling it will be my exact size. Sure, hindsight will inevitably reveal that my ninth trip down the isle was outstandingly ill-advised, but for now I just want to bask in the glow of love. Is that so wrong? Wedoholic.
Dear Wedoholic: I never understood why people are so judgmental about match-made-in hell unions. I personally find them to be quite spectacular. Have you ever seen a bad marriage crash and burn? It’s the most brilliant thing to witness. I like to watch in 3-D with a jumbo bag of popcorn drizzled lightly with salt and butter.
Dear Captain Obvious: My apartment got flooded this week and the only thing I managed to save from the wreckage were my tawdry flea market tchotchkes, hair products and a big ‘ole plastic hand to rest my butt in. Luckily for me the model I’ve been styling has condescended to provide me and my bad taste a place to stay until I scrape together enough money to secure another apartment. Unbeknownst to her I’ll be making googley eyes at her really hot, oh-so-sexy boyfriend during my stay. Already I’ve begun to put my sick plan in motion: I got wasted and forced myself on him the minute her scrawny back was turned. It’s her fault for being so trusting. I’ve been dropping hints that I’ve wanted to jump his bones since the first day we met, but she chose to play the fool. Oh well.
Dear Oh Well: I admire a woman who knows what she wants and knows just how to get it. I would be remiss, however, if I didn’t warn you to proceed with caution. You don’t want this man to think you’re a slut, even though you are a slut, and a very big one at that. Try to delay showing him that side of you until he can no longer resist your “charms”. He’ll probably show disgust at first, perhaps even consternation, but don’t be discouraged—I have yet to meet a man in this town whose voracious sexual appetites could be satisfied by only one woman. If he puts up a fight, and you find yourself unable to stand the wait, stop by the drugstore and pick up some cough syrup (if he’s a big fella, buy two bottles). Sedate him with the cold remedy and let your inner-whore do the rest!
Dear Captain Obvious: My ex-wife just remarried and the news hit me pretty hard, which surprised me since we’ve both moved on and I am also engaged to be married. I didn’t know what to make of my reaction so I abruptly walked out on the dinner my fiancée and I were having and rushed home to take my ex-wife’s horse out for a run. Well, I pretty much rode the old girl into the ground. She was neighing pretty heavily by the time I was done with her, which is good because she badly needed to be ridden. Later, at home, while still drenched in perspiration I made mad, passionate love to my girlfriend all the while thinking about my ex. I can’t stand the fact that she’s still on my mind. How do I release myself from this vice-like grip she has over me? Love/Hate.
Dear Love/Hate: I’ve always found that the best way to get over someone is by doing everything you can to crush their spirit and make them wish they were dead. The next time you feel like saddling up take your fiancée along with you. Arrange to have your ex-wife come to your property under false pretense and make sure that when she arrives you and your girlfriend can be seen riding her horse with very few clothes on—try going nude if you really want to make a statement—then, as she stands there, mouth agape with shock and horror, spur the horse into a gallop and chase her around the property until she collapses from terror and breathlessness. When she regains consciousness have her arrested for trespassing.
Dear Captain Obvious: I’ve done some pretty awful things in my life, not the least of which is wearing copious amounts of animal print in every conceivable form, so I wanted to do some good for a change and donate money to charity. I figure if I send good energy out into the universe then good energy will come back. So now I’m $50 million poorer and thought I could get by with the other $50 million I had, that is, until my husband served me with divorce papers and told me that unless I give him all that I have left he’ll have me thrown in jail for something I did which inadvertently killed an innocent woman. What can I do to keep my husband (who’s not at all bad when he’s not blackmailing me) and keep my riches? Karma chick.
Dear Karma Chick: Boy, it’s your lucky day! I happen to have a friend in Nigeria who is in possession of close to $100 million by way of an over-invoiced contract commissioned and paid for 5 years ago by a foreign contractor. Sadly, civil servants in Nigeria are forbidden to hold foreign bank accounts—that’s where you come in. My friend is willing to give you 90% of the money if you give him your bank account information plus a phone number for easy and confidential communication. He will deposit the $100 million in your account right after he receives a check from you in the amount of $10 million. I would do it myself but I don’t have a bank account; I keep my money in a duffel bag buried in my garden.
Dear Captain Obvious: The inescapable stupidity of partnering up with my ex-stepdad to run a company has proved its weight in gold when he made a potentially fatal business decision without bothering to consult me. I spoke to him about it and at the time he seemed contrite, promising not to let it happen again. I want to believe he’s coming from a sincere place but he is a habitual schemer. Uncertain.
Dear Uncertain: What on earth would make you want to run a company with someone you don’t trust and who you know to be extremely self-serving and duplicitous? Maybe forgiving and forgetting is the path to enlightenment, but it won’t do you a bit of good when your ex-stepfather finds a way to screw you out of your half of the company. When you look back on where you went wrong take comfort in the fact that good guys finish last, and yeah, that would be you, Pea Brain.
Dear Captain Obvious: I just landed my dream job as an assistant for a new contemporary art gallery downtown. I was so relieved when they neglected to do a background check or they would have no doubt discovered that nasty allegation of first-degree murder lurking in my records. It’s been over a week and I have yet to summon the desire to show up for my first day of work. I don’t want her to get the idea that I’m shiftless. How do I save face? Art Diva.
Dear Art Diva: Usually the way to go would be to apologize then take an extended lunch break. When you return give your new boss some bogus story about scouting new art while you were gone. Contemporary art is open to interpretation and your attendance record should be no different.
Originally published: May-8-2008
