Okay, I’m winding down (up?) to my 1,000th post. I couldn’t think of one single thing I wanted to say, or any way to facilitate the march to non-newbiedom <snort> so…I thought I’d bring one of the most popular #SD** past times to our very own Straight Dope.
A few lucky people will get their deep-down, personal, WAY TMI questions answered by the illustrious me. Couldn’t you just DIE?
Okay, phone lines are open. Miss Nym is standing by.
Dear Miss Nym, do you like me? Do you really like me? Or was that just something you said to make me post? Were you using me? No matter, here’s my question, Miss Nym, my boyfriend said I called out his best friend’s name during sex. The problem is I am fooling around with his other friend, should I hook up with the best friend now? Thanks, WOndering IN SD
Dear Miss Nym,
I recently was invited to stay with a friend who I met in a chat. She seems nice enough but now I have reason to believe that she might have been peed on while riding the El. What should I do? Thanks in advance, your biggest fan in SD
If Nen and I were to get into a fistfight over your affections, do you think I should kick him in the shins first, or push him into a snowbank where he can make mutant invalid snow angels?
Dear Mama,
Of course Miss Nym likes you. Miss Nym has great affection for all her minio…er…FRIENDS. Anyone that is willing to do exactly as Miss Nym says gets love, attention and a “Miss Nym Loves ME!” bumpersticker*. Now that we’ve fed your twee little ego, let’s get down to the real question, shall we?
The language of lurrrrve can get garbled at times, MamaHen. I’m sure we’ve all been in the spot you are in right now. You’re plodding along in that familiar, nice way with Bob, and the next thing you know, “Ride me, Hervè! Ride me like the ass-pony I am!” is sliding out of your mouth. However, there is damage control that can be done. You can try telling your SO that you were so caught up in the moment of ecstasy that you started speaking in tonuges. You can tell him that you were remembering a past love and thinking how much BETTER it is to be right here, right now. You could give him head. Head ALWAYS works. Miss Nym is loathe to recommend dumping current SO for SO’s best friend, as you will just have to go through this again at a later date.
Unless, of course, SO’sBF is named Hervè.
Love,
Miss Nym
Dear Rasa,
AAN, to the best of my knowledge, is some kind of secret society. There have been whispers that have reached Miss Nym’s perfect, shell-like ears that it stands for All About Nymphomania.
Miss Nym is wondering how such a NICE, SWEET, PLEASANT girl such as yourself would know of such an organization. Surely, you would not…no. You would never…
…
No matter. Miss Nym loves you anyway.
And, no, Miss Nym also does not belong to the group that likes tinkling on each other. Miss Nym chooses to do her business in the bathroom, like civilized human beings.
Whore.
Love,
Miss Nym
[sub]*send US$10 shipping and handling to recieve your Miss Nym Loves ME! bumpersticker. Please wait 14 weeks for delivery.
How is it that fashion trends (in haute couture) get decided? You know, suddenly everyone’s fall collection has “lot of plaids; plaids are big!” or “Sash belts! Faux fur! Wide legged pants!” or “Browns with baby blue are all over the runways this year!”
I know these people don’t all spontaneously come up with the same trends. So how does this happen? I know you know.
Dearest Nen,
Of course Miss Nym wants to fuck. There is nothing Miss Nym would rather do on a lazy Monday afternoon than shag. Miss Nym is a huge fan of making the beast with two backs. Or two fronts, two sides…but, I digress. However, I feel that the real issue here is my shoes. They ARE nice shoes, are they not? Miss Nym is big on shoes. There’s nothing Miss Nym would rather do on a lazy Monday afternoon than shoe shop. If you are asking Miss Nym for a date to go shoe shopping, Miss Nym would seriously consider the offer. So, my question to you, Nen, is, “How YOU doin’?”
Yours in (shoe) lust,
Miss Nym
Dear Tart,
Miss Nym has never been one to condone violence. As a matter of fact, Miss Nym is a pacifist. However, if you and Nen would like to, perhaps, wrestle over my affections, Miss Nym would be glad to bestow a teensy gesture of love on the winner. Miss Nym will even be so kind as to bring the oil and the gimp to add a bit of spice to the proceedings. There’s nothing Miss Nym likes more on a lazy Monday afternoon than to watch two people vie for her honour. Good luck to you, Rasa!
Love,
Miss Nym
Dear Robin,
Miss Nym is, indeed, popular. However, don’t let this thwart you! With a little practice, anyone can me almost as popular as Miss Nym. Really, my wonderful little Robin, it’s not the shoes (although mine ARE stellar, non?), it’s the attitude in which you wear them. These cute maribou-trimmed numbers I have on my tootsies right now would be nothing without the petite, well-manicured, perfectly pink little foot in them. They would just be a shoe with some dead bird on the top. Perhaps, if you’re very VERY good, I’ll let you accompany myself and Nen on our shoe shopping expedition. Wouldn’t that be fun? However, you must go home as soon as the shopping has finished. You’ll want to practice walking in 6inch spike heels, and Nen and I have…another engagement to take care of.
I am moving out of the house, heading on the road to being a bachelor again. My question is: How long will it take to get all the stray Ex’s hair out of all my clothes? I don’t want to be pulling her hair out of my underwear a few months later. Please do not ask how it got there.
Please notice the subtle difference in the object of the implied superlative . Please notice the mutually exclusive nature of the superlative coexistants. Shagging does not equate with shoe shopping.
To all readers: you may wish to carefully evaluate the response to your inquiries in light of this dichotomy (and perverse notion of importance).
Miss Nym, digression, in this realm, is part of the art. Perhaps I should start a thread so that you could make a few inquiries.
Rasa, keep in mind that I am approximately double your size and the ramifications of such physical contrast in wrestling. It appears I will receive yet another gesture of Nym’s affection.
Robyn
You, my dear, do not need nice shoes to elicit such questions.
Miss Nym
Normally I’d decline an offer to go shoe shopping nor would I offer to assist in such an endeavor, but considering the ensuing duties, perhaps I could be tempted to partake.
Would you like to step over here and show me exactly how “the beast with two fronts” is made? May I possibly nibble on your “perfect, shell-like ears” while you do so? [sub]That description is driving me crazy…[/sub]
The children are STARVING, love. If you could see your way to donate a small percentage of your earnings to Miss Nym, Miss Nym will see fit to pass along the money so that the poor dears can eat*. For every $100 you send to Miss Nym, you get a “Miss Nym Loves ME!” bumper sticker! Free! For you! At $1,000 you get an autographed picture of Miss Nym! Free!
Dear CAAOM,
Much as Miss Nym hates to blow the top off of a really good conspiracy (and, my, hasn’t it been amusing watching all of you girls run to the malls every few weeks!), I think it’s time to put this particular joke to bed.
Once upon a time there was an ugly little girl by the name of Helen. Helen was a horrible little girl with halitosis and very, very bad clothes. Very bad. Plaids with flowers type of outfits. <Miss Nym shudders> Everyone picked on Helen.
In another part of the world, was an ugly, creepy little man named Deepak. Deepak believed that everyone could be beautiful if they could only have inner peace. <Miss Nym snorts> Everyone picked on Deepak.
Eventually, these two got together, selling their souls to start two of the most powerful empires in the world. However, they weren’t very NICE people, and decided to get even with everyone for picking on them and making their lives miserable before they became rich and famous. And so, they started the cult that we now call haute couture. Leading the way with Cosmopolitan magazine, Aveda products, and self-help books out the patootie, they told the world that THEY KNEW what they were talking about. And the world, being sheep, believed them. Putting pink and black together and making women smear clay on their face was amusing for a while, but really, I think these two should get on with their lives.
So, the next time you’re looking at Nordstrom’s and question whether you really would look good in lime green bell bottoms with a magenta horizontal stripe, think of Helen Gurley Brown and Deepak Chopra giggling their little, wrinkled, badly coiffed, rich as all bejebus asses off at you.
And, please, Cranky, don’t make me explain waxing. It’s too, too traumatic.
Love,
Miss Nym
[sub]* After a teensy, tiny fee has been deducted, of course. Shipping and handling, you know.