Write to Dear Crabby

Dear Crabby,

I want to watch the Red Sox game and she wants to watch "Sex in the City" re-runs. Now if there were some more sex in this city I might consider turning the damn ball game off. What should I do?

- Lackanooky


Dear Lackanooky,

Is it possible that the sex in “your city” consists of all reruns? She's probably tired of too many of your pitches being high and outside, honey. You might do well to get your hands off the remote and get to work learning her game.



Dear Crabby,

Why are my kids deaf when I ask them to do something, but they seem to hear every word when I'm telling my hubby a secret?

- Mom-On-Mute


Dear Mom-On-Mute,

Maybe you're telling hubby the wrong secret. Next time, whisper to him that you have three bidders on e-bay for your son's x-box, the highest of which you're accepting as soon as he goes to bed if his room isn't cleaned up by then.



Dear Crabby,

Though I love my husband dearly, he is "slightly gaseous" as he calls it, on a regular basis. His farts don't smell, it's the loud, foghorn noise they create that drives me batty. Should I tell him to go outside and fart or keep my trap shut and accept that this is just part of loving him?

- Mrs. Slightly Gaseous


Dear Mrs. Slightly Gaseous,

Neither, my dear. Champagne is your answer. When you serve him any food that produces gas, make sure to serve yourself some champagne--at least two bottles. Continue sipping the bubbly until his ass starts talking. After two bottles, it is literally IMPOSSIBLE not to laugh at foghorn farts. Trust me.


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