Dear Abbynormal: My best friend had twins, and her husband works for Doubleday. My sister had a set of triplets, and her husband works for 3M. I just found out I'm pregnant, and my husband works for 7-Up. What should I do? -- Growing Anxiety
Dear Growing: Be glad your husband doesn't work for Union 76!
Dear Abbynormal: I need some career advice. What's the best way to get into computers? -- Driven
Dear Driven: Unscrew the case and pull off the lid.
Dear Abbynormal: I have a really bad case of sunburn. It makes me look ugly. What should I do? -- Cooked
Dear Cooked: Are you giving me the third degree? But seriously, don’t worry about it. In a few days your face will definitely be "appealing."
Dear Abbynormal: I have a really bad case of beer. What should I do? -- Crocked
Dear Abbynormal: I enjoy the holiday season, but I hate the rest of winter. Should I move from the upper Midwest to a sunnier state like Arizona or Florida? -- Blizzard-hater
Dear BH: Stay put. Without the snow, ice, freezing winds, stalled cars, unplowed roads and numerous traffic accidents, those in the warmer climates do not know the true meaning of Christmas.
Dear Abbynormal: How can I make my flowers last all year round? -- Marvin the Gardener
Dear Marvin: Buy plastic plants.
Dear Abbynormal:
My problem is such
(I'll admit it's not much)
My writing, each time,
Ends in a rhyme.
Though things could be worse
Than writing in verse.
It's so annoying -- can you
Tell me what to do?
Dear Rhymbo: Use your problem to your advantage. For example, this spring write an old English poem, form the page into a hat and put it on your head. You'll be wearing the only Easter sonnet. Or else get a job in law enforcement and dispense poetic justice.
Dear Abbynormal: I don't have any problems. -- Well-adjusted
Dear Well-Adjusted: NONE???
Dear Abbynormal: Well, maybe one. My husband is cheating on me. He plays "Solitaire" on my back and always peeks at the cards. What should I do? -- Well-adjusted
Dear Well-Adjusted: Your husband sounds like he's not dealing with a full deck. But seriously, turn over for the next game. He won't cheat because you'll be keeping abreast of his playing.
Dear Abbynormal: May I join your monastery? -- Thelonius.
Thelonious: I'm sorry. This is Abbynormal, not a normal abbey.
Dear Abbynormal: I drink too much coffee. What can I do? -- Jumpy
Dear Jumpy: Every time you pour a cup of hot coffee, spill some of it on your lap. Your desire for coffee will diminish considerably.
Dear Abbynormal: I love sailing, and I just met a guy who's a sports writer. Will it work out between us? -- Worried
Dear Worried: I doubt it. You like riding the winds and he likes writing the wins.
Confidential to Confused: It's all right to love a married man, as long as he's your husband!
Confidential to No Anchovies: Yes, it would be tacky, when on your death bed, to order a pizza "to go."
All original material copyright (c) 1998 Michael McGarel. It cannot be distributed in any form without the express written consent of the author.
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