My boyfriend is freaking out about the supposed end of the world on Friday, you know, after the Mayan calendar ends. He thinks we need to hunker in a bunker in Nederland or something. How do I convince him he's crazy?
--Life still left
Livin' on a prayer:
This thought has taken a seat in my head on occasion: If I were handed an invitation to terminal disease, what would I do with my remaining time?
After crying uncontrollably, smashing delicate china dolls over able-bodied heads and soiling my pants, I'd buck the fuck up and live the life I had left.
A trip to New Zealand? Streak through Boulder? Strippers and blow? Sex soirees? Rub rosary beads 'til the fingers are sore? Rub something else 'til the fingers are sore? (Oh dear.) Drink 'til you drop?
Since your man is not aware there's a lack of scientific evidence that any cataclysmic events will unfold on Friday, let's play with him. (Not that way.) It's better late than pregnant. Um. Better safe than sorry.
However, since the apocalypse didn't consult our to-do lists, we'll have to bear with the damn catastrophe as it lands at this inopportune holiday occasion.
Instead of decaying in a bunker in Ned with Vienna Sausages and Cat Fancy, let's look at this end result from a party perspective. (Plus, you're spoiling the surplus patchouli.) If the world does doom to demise, you have three days to party like it's 1999. Or 2013. Whatever.
The best doomsday spot in line is at the bar. Make it rain benjis (like your mom's thong), make sex tapes, do drugs, indie 'n' roll, hug puppies and shotgun pizza pies.
If the ruin end results in just a boring-old Saturday, then suck down some ibuprofen, Gatorade and a Whopper with cheese in the company of a Lifetime movie marathon.
Back on track. Aside from your bowels, whose demise is TBD.
What's the etiquette for Christmas gifts from Fascinations? No opening those gifts in front of the family, obviously. But is that an okay gift?
--Naughty and Nice
Dirty and spice:
Loose-lady lingerie, vibrators, sex swings, porn, anal beads, pocket pussies, edible underwear, blow-up dolls ... very traditional Christmas gifts. Jesus and Santa would be proud.
It's fine to gift your lady anything you wish, just be a gentleman and know her comfort levels.
For instance, the virginal, family-planning church girl who can't eat phallic foods -- a gift as such may ruffle her lace doily.
Or, if you haven't porked the piggy yet, a strap-on may be an awkward holiday gift.
If you know her well enough, then get her that battery-powered pole. Just be prepared to take a backseat to sex while she explores the monster -- but that's why you bought Sucking Sally, inflated for your pleasure.