What's your new year's resolution?

Dear Angry Agony Aunt,
Do you have a new year’s resolution this year?

Let me tell you something.  New Years resolutions are for unhealthy, chain smoking, alcoholic, drug addicts with no money and no spine.  Sometimes they’re called Stan, but not all the time.  These ‘Stan’s’ swear that, ‘I’m going to turn my life around and make a long list of promises’, blah, blah.  But this is useless ‘my mouth is moving but nothing important is being said’ talk.

Why?  Because 12 – 24 hours in to the new year (crunch time), like a kid with a shiny toy, temptation lands in their lap and they get distracted.  And before you can say, ‘Dude, let’s steal the neighbour’s car’, they’ve got a cigarette in one hand, a beer in the other, telling their Nanna to ‘get f&cked’, as they’re hot wiring her car.   Old habits die hard.

But if you’re not a ‘Stan’ and you actually want to succeed in life, I suggest you try what I call a ‘Reverse Resolution’.  Write down all the things you achieved in 2011.  Believe it or not, we all have something to be proud of.  And if you’re actually nice to yourself, hopefully you'll continue to be nice to yourself in the upcoming year.

For example: Did you manage to finally have sex?  (Thumbs up Fernando)  Did you stop calling your mother a dirty, old, cranky whore? (I know it was hard Maryanne, but kudos to you) How about your finances?  Are you able to answer ‘private number’ calls again?  I bet if you're sober, even just for five minutes, you’d be able to name at least five good things that happened during the year.  What did you learn about yourself?  What did you learn about other people?

Having done my own Reverse Resolution, I've ruled that I'm happy to continue drinking litres of cheap wine followed by bacon chasers, smoking two cigarettes at a time, maxing out my credit cards and dating guys called ‘Stan’.  Why?  Because if I didn’t, l wouldn’t have anything to be angry about anymore... 

Happy New Year to everyone.  Except Stan.  You can rot in hell.  But not before living a long and painful life full of guilt and regret.

What makes the perfect pair of breasts?

Dear Angry Agony Aunt,
What makes the perfect pair of breasts?

The most obvious answer is – any pair of breasts without your grubby hands all over them is a perfect pair of breasts.  But that’s a cheap shot and I don’t do that here. 

For some guys, any pair of living breasts within eye shot is a perfect pair.  Men part with real cash dollars to get a peek, some pay a lot, others just have to say ‘let me buy you a drink’ and there they are, all in your face.  But nonetheless, the sight of boobs is a tradeable commodity.

And you guys can bitch and moan about what makes a perfect pair, but when you’re talking about these eye magnets, there’s not a complaint in sight.

But what makes a perfect pair?  Hmmm.  I hate to break it to you, but you’ve already seen them.  And unfortunately for you, if all’s well in your life, you’ll never see them again.  The most perfect pair of breasts is the first pair you ever saw.  Yo Mumma’s.

Yo Mumma’s were perfect because they weren’t only huge after you were born, but they were full of milky goodness, full all of the vitamins and minerals you needed to survive.  And that’s what you’re looking for in a perfect pair; looks and functionality. 

And before you scoff and say ‘I was bottle-fed’, I guarantee that at least once in your little poohey nappy existence, you went for the grab.  That’s right, you grabbed your own Mumma’s tits.  And not only that, you would’ve gone in for the suck and cried when she pushed you away said no. 

So next time you see a pair of breasts that aren’t quite perfect, don’t say ‘send them back’, just smile and thank god they’re not your mother’s.  And after reading this, I hope the next time you see your girlfriend’s set, you think of your mother’s big, bad, heaving knockers you once cried over. 

Why are you smiling in the photo?

Dear Angry Agony Aunt,
I am a new liker to your page. I have a question. You are The Angry Agony Aunt. However, in your picture, your lips appear to be slightly upturned in somewhat of a grin/smile. My question is Why? This grin/smile does not appropriately appear to reflect the Anger part of your title..."

This is the best question I’ve ever received.  If there’s one subject I know better than any other, it's the subject of my failings as a human being.  My Facebook profile photo is a living example of my confusing and contradictory life.

When I first started my blog, I thought it’d be a great idea to have an Angry Agony Aunt logo.  After I spent all my disposable income on advertising, I only got a few Facebook ‘likes’ and one guy asking for an ‘Angry Aunty’ to spank him while his wife was away on business.  I immediately ditched the logo and replaced it with a ‘help’ sign.  This sign confused readers and they started unsubscribing in droves.  I was staring down the face of the first Facebook page in history with negative ‘likes’. 

Then someone suggested I upload an angry photo of myself.  I begrudgingly took 50 shots and passed them around my 'friends' for feedback.  Nasty comments included:

- ‘you look like you’re about to pass a bowling ball’, 

- ‘you look so crazy, I’m afraid you’ll shoulder charge me through a glass window' and 

- ‘how did you get your double chin to do that?’

After this brutal assessment of my looks, I wiped away the tears and cleaned up the broken glass from the window.  Then, a couple of days later, inspiration came.   

I had an argument with my current boyfriend about something I don't remember.  But after that argument, I made a very angry breakup video.  (I’ve kept it just in case of emergency).  In a gentle and loving voice I say, ‘hey baby, I just thought I’d send you a message… you’re a sad and pathetic wannabe.  You’re on track to die a lonely and poor middle-aged bald man.  Don’t ever ring me again and for god sake, wear a nappy when you go to bed.’ 

So the photo you see today is a screen shot from that video.  Sure, it may look like I’m all love and smiles but this is me at my passive aggressive best.  The lesson here?  ‘Angry’ comes in all different shapes and psychotic sizes.