Dear Andy—I am going to have to throw in the towel here and suggest you ask an actual lesbian.
Aw, I was hoping for suggestions for a proper chardonnay and dancing music. 
“Chardonnay and dancing music?” Honestly, you lesbians and your euphemisms!
Eve, haven’t you learned anything from the boards? If I was using euphemisms, I would have said “herbal tea and yoga.”
honestly…
Eve dear,
The other night before leaving for a poker game with friends, I raided the lint trap. I collected all the sheddings and stuffed them inside my Oxford shirt right at belly button level.
During the game, I pretended to notice a bit coming out, said “Huh”, and pulled a bit out whilst complaining about a navel lint problem. Then I dug and pulled out more. And more. And more.
When I was through there was a softball-sized pile of lint on the table and my friends were on the floor.
My question is this - Considering all the lint came from just two of my shirts, do I wear too much flannel?
Dear Lieu—I don’t ordinarily player poker, but I would make an exception in your case. As for the lint trap, are you sure the kitten didn’t fall asleep in the dryer again? Have you seen the kitten lately?
Dear Eve,
I’ve read your column for many years, and never fail to find some useful bit of advice that I can ignore. I hope that you’ll be able to help me with my problem.
In church on Suday I happened to fall asleep, as the sermon was an excrutiatingly long one on the subject of Paul’s letter to the Corinithians and why it was returned for insufficient postage. Right before I fell forward and hit my head on the pew in front me, I cried out “I love you, George!” Well, you can imagine my chagrine. I had to take an extra helping of wine just to calm my nerves.
My SO is now asking me who “George” is and why I feel so strongly about him. I’ve tried to tell her that I have a extremely patriotic fervor for the the first President of this great republic (he was first in war, first in peace, and first in the hearts of his countrymen), but she seems reluctant to believe me. Absent that, I’ve tried explaining that my favorite film is Yankee Doodle Dandy and taken to acting like Jimmy Cagnie. Now for the real issue - How do I tell her of my almost-schoolgirl-like crush on George Clooney? The man is too, too, too much for words (unless those words are virile, sticky, tumescent, seminiferous tubules, and gonads).
Please answer quickly as I’ve already picked up the telephone three times today to make airline reservations for Hollywood and I recently shaved my rear end.
Georgie’s Boy
Dear Eve,
I’m sorry, but I mispoke in my early letter to you.
The subject of the sermon was Paul’s Letter to Penthouse Forum and why it was returned for insufficient postage.
I hope that clears up that particular matter.
Sincerely,
Looney for Clooney
Dear Pentho . . . I mean, Dear Plnnr—Your confession could go one of two ways. Wifey could say, “Mother always TOLD me you were a flaming poofter!” and toss you bag and baggage out of the house. Or she could purr, “Did I ever tell you about my steamy daydreams of Sela Ward?”
Are you willing to take that chance? Or might it be better to fess up that you are still simply mourning the loss of JFK Jr.'s late lamented political monthly?
P.S. I have it on good authority that the object of your affections is straight, and sleeps with his 300-pound pet potbelly pig, Max. Do you really want to leave Wifey for him?
By that question, I take it that you have something against sleeping with 300-pound pet potbelly pigs named Max. I’m sorry, but I must refrain from further correspondence with anyone who feels that zoophilia is also “a love that dare not oink, bleet, whinny, snort, bark, or screech it’s name.”
Not at all, dear heart. I merely suspected that the hooves, bristles, wiggly tail and snout of Max might get in the way of any pleasure you might be able to coax Mr. Clooney into. I mean, two men (one straight, one wavering) and a pig in even a king-sized bed . . .
Hmmm…a George Clooney, Sela Ward sandwich…hold the pig…we may have a winner
-
If I have a million neon rainbows burning below me, what floor do I live on?
-
Is it the real turtle soup, or merely the mock?
Redboss
pinnr:
Eve has already ruled on human-pet relationships. You simply have to get these oinky masturbatory images out of your mind. Although I have to admit it, the thought of that corkscrew shaped penis makes me want to go wee,wee,wee all the way home.
Before I become a complete sexist pig, I want to thank all you mambas, ah, members who so graciously hijacked my boring thread and made it funny. Just remember, Eve and I are keeping the universe from tipping over, so be respectful. This means you, Ike!
And a much belated apology to Jackanapes…no,no,no, I did it again- jackelope; there, that’s it- for misspelling his/her name.
RickDarling Eve,
I am getting married for again after a scandalous
divorce some time ago. I feel it would be inappropriate if I was to wear white at the wedding. What I need to know is, would be in bad taste for the Elvis impersonator to wear the white jumpsuit?
Sincerely,
Secondhand Rose
**Lieu can’t find his *pussy *!
I’m sorry; this shall not stand. It appears plnnr has succumbed to the common error of confusing zooerastia and zoophilia. The two practices are related but distinct, as I clarify below:
ZOOERASTIA (ZOH-oh-ee-ras-tee-uh) Sexual intercourse with animals. “Plnnr’s zooerastia cost him his job at the zoo.”
ZOOPHILIA (zoh-oh-FIL-ee-uh) Sexual arousal caused by stroking or fondling animals. “If plnnr could have confined himself to zoophilia, he’d still be working.”
Dear Eve,
My SO loves film noir. Last year I gave him “The Big Combo” (apparently his favorite film) for his birthday.
The problem is I know nothing about film noir and thus am at a loss for what to purchase for this years birthday gift giving.
With Thanks
Confused Gift Purchaser
Dear Eve,
Should I have checked this thread before now?
Do gentlemen really prefer blondes?
Why does nobody but me spell the word ‘blonde’ with an ‘e’ at the end?
With thanks
The Man from ‘Buying an Ant’