Kitty Van Buren dons her Internet Advice Columnist hat and spews advice (updated 4-16-01):

Dear Kitty,

I have asked many of my friends for advice, but none of them seem to be of any help.  You see, my husband refuses to shave off his mustache.  "It makes me look like Tom Selleck," he says.

Unfortunately, he refuses to groom it.  He gets food stuck in it and never trims it.  It's starting to look like he has a small terrier attached to his upper lip.  I told him this turns me off when we make love, but he says "No it doesn't!" and sends his pelvis to work.

Is there anything I can do to get rid of that unsightly accident?
--Has a Man with a Muff in Memphis

Dear Memphis: My sixth husband had the same problem.  The only way to fix the problem is to slip some Nair into his toothpaste and hope that some of it lands on his upper lip.
--Kitty Van Buren

Dear Kitty,

I'm the mother of a wonderful 9-year-old boy, and I'm writing because I'm very upset about the behavior of my son's fourth grade teacher (I'll call her "Mrs. Asswipe").

When my son was struggling with his mathematics, I visited Mrs. Asswipe on parent-teacher conference day to discuss the situation.  She began rambling about how my son could not keep quiet in class and how he fidgets too much.  She also accused him of having Attention Deficit Disorder, mentioned he smells bad, and declared that he will never be able please a woman.

Finally, when I was about to stalk off in anger, she grabbed my shoulder and made one of those lesbian passes at me.  I was humiliated.  Should I tell the principal about this incident, or should I just go into a shell like a frightened mule and let the world pummel me?
--Angry in Antarctica

Dear Angry: I really think you should take into consideration that everything Mrs. Asswipe said about your son is probably true. Most little smelly assholes these days are raised by middle-class whores like yourself.
--Kitty Van Buren

P.S. -- I think Mrs. Asswipe is my mom.  Tell her I said hi and that she owes me money.

Dear Kitty,

You should be ashamed of yourself!  Why can't you be more like that nice Ann Landers girl?  I'm shocked at the language you use, you two-bit whore.
--Zelda Pinsky-Van Buren, Kitty's mother!

Dear Mom: That's it.  You're not getting any more pot from me, you worthless skank.  Call me later.
--Love, Kitty

Dear Kitty,

I really don't appreciate you insulting Scientologists, Van Buren.  I guess you're all into Jesus and all that shit.   Whatever, slut.  We will not be defeated.  We are the supreme race.

We know where you live, bitch. Just remember that.
--L. Ron Hubbard, Church of Scientology guy

Dear Hubbard the Ho: Lick me, cocksucker.   Don't fuck with Jews.  I'll send Sammy Davis, Jr. and Rabbi Mankelstein after your sorry ass.
--Kitty Van Buren

Dear Kitty,

I am a 33-year-old mother of four. I'm happily married to my husband I'll call him "God"), and my life is as great as anyone could ever hope for.

But I have a problem.  Specifically, a gambling problem. It all started when God and I and the kids took a family vacation to Vegas.  Though I'm morally against gambling, I figured "when in Rome" and started playing the slots.  It seemed like a harmless bit of fun for awhile, but it's recently gotten out of hand.

Now whenever I look at God, all I see is a slot machine with limbs.  When I look at our toilet, all I see is that bucket you use to collect your payoff.

Recently, I bludgeoned my cousin in order to get two quarters away from him so I could play a couple of hands on the quarter machine.  To make things worse, I didn't even win anything from them.  I know this is immoral and wrong, but I just don't know how to stop.

Help me, Kitty! What should I do?
--Gamblin' in Greensboro

Dear Gamblin': You should find another vice to take your mind off gambling.  Like pimping or child pornography, for example.
--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!