Good lord! I actually have some work to do this morning—much to my own amazement and dismay—so I will have to get back to you all a bit later on these pressing matters.
OK, got those articles out of the way post-haste (lord, how I hate those recipe pieces!).
Dear DocCathode—Jackelope has it right on ther mark. Bolo tie.
Dear Zyada—I think a nice red Ripple or Thunderbird would do.
Dear Ender—Consider your head patted.
Dear Nemo—You wouild have me give away the plot twists in Papa’s Wife? What if it is revived on B’way next season?!
Dear Already—Richard Stevenson.
Dear Narrad—I would keep the jacket buttoned on windy days and in business meetings, but otherwise, left open is perfectly acceptable. Unless you neglected to put on a shirt that morning, or your dickie keeps flapping up in a comical manner.
Dear Rue—I wound up tossing the letters into ther garbage—there were hundreds of them. The diaries, though, I still intend to burn.
Ooooh, dear, I missed some.
Dear Flamsterette_X—Consult your priest, rabbi, pastor, whatever, and have him approach her with the idea. Might be less shy-making for her that way.
Dear Tevya—I recommend pantyhose. That way, you can have a friend join you!
Dear Miller—har!
Dear Jackelope—No fear, no one ever knows what the hell we’re talking about. By the way, my name really is Eve.
Dear Eve,
Is one permitted to sniff disdainfully if one doesn’t have lorgnettes at hand? Is a disappointed sigh more appropriate? What situations merit a tsk-tsk, and when may one tsk-tsk-tsk?
Gratefully,
FairyChatMom
Dear Eve,
Is it more important to choose a wine by the pretentiousness of label or by how much it costs?
Signed,
Some Mollier.
PS **Miller ** nicely done, you B.A.S.T.A.R.D ! 
Dear FairChatMom—If you lack lorgnettes, practice saying, “Well, really!” and looking down your nose. It helps if you have a double chin and a Stately Monobosom.
Dear Shirley—The more pretentious the label, the more the wine should cost. Otherwise, call the waiter over and ask “just what kinda cheap gin joint this is, anyway?”
Dear Eve,
What is the proper way to reject an invitation that has been declined many times before? I always feign an important business meeting, family gathering or perhaps simply a prior engagement, but someone’s always inviting me to go to Hell. Would a raspberry suffice, or maybe just the Finger?
Patiently waiting,
Skerri
Dear Skerri—The official, polite way to Hand the Icy Mitten is to simply repeat, “Thank you, but I will not be able to attend your shindig.” No explanations needed. After the sixth or seventh time, the dullard should get the message.
If the lout refuses to catch your drift, you may employ such Green Beret tactics as, “I’m sorry, but I already have plans to slide down a razor blade into a pool of alcohol that evening.”
Eve, I’m torn between soft salted preztels and salted bagels as a snack while driving. Can you tell me which shape is more condusive to interstate travel, and why?
Dear Deball—I find that while driving on the Interstate, the best snack is a bubbling hot cheese fondue. It necessarily keeps you awake and alert! If you nod off for a moment, the sensation of the boiling cheese eating through your pants leg will wake you right up.
Dear Eve:
I’ve got an important ritual coming up and dulled the last of my stillettos on the stone altar during the previous new moon. Do I need new ones, or will my Henckel steak knives do? Also, where’s the nearest foundling orphanage and how’s their security?
Dear Eve,
As amazing as it sounds, my recent change of status into single-ness has not made the lovely ladies of my venerable college break down the doors in persuit. How might I best go about courting a lovely lady of the sapphic pursuasion?
Best,
Andy
Dear Eve,
Is it better to hold it in or let it out.
Signed,
Two Intendre’s are better than Juan.
Dear Kamandi—Knife-sharpeners are a godsend when it comes to ritual sacrifice. Remember, a well-fed baby is a tender baby!
Dear Andy—I suggest Lingering Hopefully in the Women’s Studies section of the college library or bookstore, a lotus blossom behind one ear.
Dear Shirley—Hold it in till he’s walked by. Then let it out.
Dear Eve:
I’m planning on painting my bedroom. I have a forest green duvet, and a maple headboard/footboard/dresser set. What colour should I paint my bedroom walls?
So my white suit (which I looove but don’t wear often, cuz it’s white and all) with white shoes are ok cuz I wear a purple blouse underneath, right? (please say right.)
Dear Stephi—Light-colored maple or dark? I’m thinking a medium beige would look well.
Dear Jane—Get the kind of swoopy white hat Ingrid Bergman wore in Casablanca, and you will look a treat in that suit, white shoes and all!
Eve:
I read somewhere that men think about sex about once every seven seconds. Ha! Who are they kidding? I pretty much think about it 24/7. I think almost all men do.
Does this make me a fiend? I admit that it makes me look like the smokers in “Reefer Madness”, and now that hot weather is here, the girls in shorts make me drool and shuffle after them with my arms out-stretched and tongue lolling down to my abdomen.
Do you think this is odd, or just what all men would like to do, but they don’t have my lack of restraint?
Dear Ageless—As I don’t think abiout sex at all, it just seems that you and I balance each other out and keep the universe from tipping over.
Eve,
Assuming that my visit to the women’s resource center tonight proves fruitful, do you have any suggestions for the ideal first date? I might be a fratboy, but I want to be a classy one.