Kitty Van Buren dons her Internet Advice Columnist hat and spews advice (updated 1-26-01):

Dear Kitty,

My friend and I have a disagreement about an old story that he swears is just an old urban legend.
 
The tale goes as follows:  A young teenage couple are in a car in the woods, necking.   The guy wants to go all the way, but the girl is unwilling.  Just then, they hear a news report on the radio that warns of an insane killer on the loose nearby.   The killer is a horrible deformed man with a hook for a hand.
 
The girl gets nervous and pleads with the boy to take her home.  After some cajoling, the guy finally surrenders his dream of getting some nookie.  In one frustrated outburst, he steps on the gas and speeds out of the woods, back into civilization and finally, back to the girl's home.  But here's the twist:  When the guy opens the car door for the girl to let her out, they see none other than Bill Cosby's severed hand on the door handle.
 
Did this really happen?  A steak dinner is riding on your answer, Kitty.
    -- Punch drunk in Pittsburgh

Dear Punch: There's much more to the story than that.  It involves Return to the Planet of the Apes, Stevie Wonder, and a dying girl's dream.  But basically, the story is true.  Be sure to sink your teeth into some sweet cow ass for me!
  --Kitty Van Buren

Dear Kitty,

Everyone in my family is perfectly normal except my nephew.  Should we have him committed?
   --name and address withheld by request

Nameless Ho:  No no no...you don't need to commit him!  Here's what you do:  Catch your nephew unaware, tie him up, sell him on the black market as a love slave, and live comfortably for the next few years.  Trust me, it works.  Just ask my five-year-old nephew Tommy.
  --Kitty Van Buren

Dear Kitty,

I'm a longtime fan of your column, but this is the first time I've ever been moved to write you.
 
My parents, both retirees, live just a few blocks from my husband and I.   Unfortunately, they have a lot of free time, and they think nothing of dropping by my house uninvited.  Kitty, I love my parents, but I'm not always prepared to have company.  I really wish they'd at least phone us before they plan to visit.
 
Given that, do you think I'm being accomodating enough?  Hell, maybe I should just let my dad have sex with me while they're already barging into my home unannounced.   I mean, it's not like he didn't rape me all the time when I was a kid.  Yeah, and mom could just stand there watching, disapproving, but too much of a pussy to say anything.  I mean, why not, right?  They've already ripped away my freedom -- why not just let them take everything?  Sweet Jesus, I want to die!!!!!!!
 
Your thoughts?
   --Betsy in Baltimore

Dear Baltimore:  Oh don't be such a baby.  Tough love never hurt anybody.
   --Kitty Van Buren

Dear Kitty,

My husband and I hosted a dinner party the other night, and we invited only our closest friends.  Unfortunately, my best friend's husband (I'll call him "Gunther") was incredibly rude, belching through the entire meal.
 
Even worse, my best friend (I'll call her "Beezlebub") apparently had no problem with Gunther's behavior, laughing at his antics throughout the evening.   Not only that, but she failed to offer help with the dishes when we were through.
 
Should I ever invite Gunther and Beezlebub to my home again after this display?   Should we even remain friends?  Should I have them audited?  How about having Gunther castrated while forcing his bitch wife into a pit of snarling manatees?
   --Martha in Murfreesboro

Dear Martha:  How about this:  You get your disgusting bourgeois ass out of my column.  I'm sick of people like you flooding my mailbox with your petty problems.  Know what?  I think Gunther had the right idea.  Too bad he didn't really let the shit hit the fan.   He should've kicked your fat polyester-covered body around, then urinated on you.   Do me a favor.  Shake ol' Gunthie's hand for me.  Oh, and when you're done with that, kill yourself.
   --Kitty Van Buren

Dear Kitty,

I'm just writing to thank you.  You've inspired me to develop my own drinking habit.  Now, all my problems seem to have disappeared!  Keep up the good work!
   --Longtime reader in South Mumford, Kentucky

Dear Reader:  Christ, kid.  You really know how to cramp one's style.  I mean, here I am starting my own creative lifestyle and whatnot, and you just come in and steal all my ideas!  Why don't you just develop a nice little drug addiction like everyone else?
  --Kitty Van Buren

Got a problem?   Write to kitty@tobyvision.com, and maybe the drunken one will respond to your letter in the next column!

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