Tuesday, January 25, 2011

Should I return the book?

Dear Angry Agony Aunt,

I bought my friend a book direct from a publisher and after a long process of them ‘losing’ the delivery, I ended up with two books.  Should I send the other one back?

Life is nothing but karma points and a points system more confusing than the Westminster preferential voting system.  It can only be explained by a ven diagram, powerpoint presentation and someone from Generation X.

For example, setting off a false school fire alarm is negative ten, negative fifteen if you do it on test day and negative twenty-five if you do it on a hot day on a test day.  But if the Principal sets the alarm off just at that crucial moment before Andrew Rosetti is about to tell you he likes you, the stupid Principal actually gets positive three points for doing it as a ‘drill’.

Karma also has a long list of rules and regulations more ambiguous and contradictory than the Bible.  You get three points for telling your partner their bum does look big but the ensuing argument will in fact see you end up negative seven.  Smacking your child in a supermarket, negative one - smacking someone else’s child, negative twenty.  Go figure.

So, with all these confusing cosmic positives and negatives karma tallies silently ticking away, it’s really hard to know where you’re at in life.  All I can say is that if you’ve slept with your best friend’s boyfriend, told a child there’s no Santa or posted a significantly younger photo of yourself on an internet dating web site, I insist - no, I beg of you to return the book.  Send it by courier and with a heartfelt, handwritten thank you note.  And if you’re really points poor, enclose another cheque for good measure.  Unfortunately, you still won’t be in the black, but at least you’re only a couple of hours of community service away from turning your life around.  And it all starts with that book.

Send your questions to me - angryauntis@gmail.com

Am I being a Bridezilla?


Dear Angry Agony Aunt,

My fiancĂ© and I are struggling with our guest list which is already 12 people over budget.  A number of our guests have partners we’ve never met.  We’re okay with long term relationships however there are a few that have only been dating a year.  Do we have to invite them?  I really don't want to pay $150 ahead for someone I’ve never met, nor do I want them in our pictures.  Am I being a Bridezilla?

Regards
Plus one quandary

Dear Plus one

Yes, you’re being a Bridezilla.  I mean, passively aggressively abusing the bonbonniere lady?  She’s eighty-five years old and she’s making this stuff by hand.  Think about it.  Your daily emails actually slow her down, not speed her up.  And that poor florist - she can’t change the tulip season - so stop asking.  And while you’re at it, tell your bridesmaids to stop writing to me.  I don’t have enough answers to their questions and I’m not qualified to prescribe Prozac.  And no, I don’t recommend they crush Prozac into your weight loss tea. 


What Bridesmaids keep forgetting is that only have two jobs.  One.  To paint on a wide and permanent smile on their face and look truly happy for you.  Especially anywhere in the vicinity of a camera.  Two.  At no moment during the day are they to be better looking than you.  Not even for a second.  Two jobs, that’s it.  Easy as.  And honestly, it's not unreasonable for you to ask them to pash a teenager a couple of days before the big day.  Where else are they going to get a good case of ache from?
However, when it comes to your guest list, I must confess, you’re rather calm about the whole thing.  If it was me, I’d be having a conniption about having booty call girlfriends at my wedding.   I mean, they’ll be there in their short skirts and fascinators eating your salmon canapĂ©'s and drinking your middle shelf champagne.  They’ll be swapping their T-bone for the fish and getting so sloshed all men in suits will look available, including the groom.

My advice to you is to be ruthless and cruel.  You know how to do that don’t you?  So, explain to your audience, oh sorry, your guests, they have a choice.  Sure, they’re welcome to bring a guest, however both of them will unfortunately be subject to a three drink maximum.  So sure, bring a 'friend'.  However, if they decide to come alone, they’ll be welcomed with an unlimited bar.  You’ll be surprised as to how ruthless and cruel your friends are as well.

Failing that, set a dress code where everyone dresses as a waiter.  Come bill time, the Venue Manager won't have a leg to stand on.

Send your questions to me - angryauntis@gmail.com


Am I Arthur or Martha?

Dear Angry Agony Aunt,

I don’t know whether I’m Arthur or Martha.  Can you help me out?

Knowing your gender is a tricky business.  One minute you’re mowing the lawn and waxing your Holden but end up waxing your bits and crying when watching ‘Ghost’.  Boy, wasn’t that a confusing movie?  One minute Whoopi’s playing Whoopi, then she’s playing Patrick Swayze, touches up Demi Moore then turns back to being Whoopi.  That’s an Arthur/Martha is a real confusing and creepy way.  But not as confusing as Victor/Victoria - a woman, dressing as a man, dressing as a female impersonator.  The only way I can explain this to regular people, is that Victor is a superfluous middle man.  Much like literary agents.

But back to you.  The easy way to find out if you’re an Arthur or a Martha is to ask someone.  But it doesn’t sound like you’ve got any friends or co-workers that actively talk to you, so we’re going to have to go to Plan B.  I must confess, Plan B is simple but painful.  So, like all of my ex-boyfriends, all care is taken but no responsibility is accepted.

Okay.  Go to a day care centre and sneak into the kids sick bay.  Sit on the floor, colour in if you like but make sure you breathe in that germy goodness.  Breathe in, breathe out.  Breathe in, breathe out.  But whatever you do, don’t get within smacking distance of the kids.  The aim of Plan B is to only get a tiny, tiny, little cold.  This is because if you have an itsy bitsy tiny little cold and find yourself heavily complaining about it, you know you’re a man.

However, if you’re unable to get into a childcare centre, for your obvious anti-social behaviour, visit a ladies toilet area.  If the ladies scream, you’ve just found out you’re a man.  That, or a very, very, very ugly woman.

Send your questions to me - angryauntis@gmail.com