Dear Brick,
I have two questions for you - is she constantly baking you almond flavored treats? Does she watch a lot of Oprah? If it is the first, she could be preparing to poison you with cyanide and you should probably not marry her under any circumstances. As for the other question, I’m wondering why the about face? Some people do lie in order to get into a favorable position, such as standing with a sugar daddy before the altar, but others change their minds for very prosaic reasons, like an episode of Oprah. I ask because if the latter, a nice chat with a lawyer will probably sort things out. But since I have your attention, I’d like to ask, are you really sure you want to be with a person who is trying get you to leave some of your investments to her grown children, with whom I can only guess you have passing acquaintance? That’s a bit of a red flag for this

ArchaologyChick

[Full Disclosure: The ArchaeologyChick has no assets. Never had assets. And is unlikely to ever own assets other than her trowel. She did lose her books in a so-called civil divorce, which she’s still bitter about (the books, not the divorce), but money has never been something she was too concerned about, probably because she’d never had any.]

Dear Sir,
Thank you so much for your submission! It was hilarious! I’m still laughing! But I was raised on “Mr. Roger’s Neighborhood” and so I can play, “Let’s Pretend” too. Let’s pretend this is a real letter. Okay, so you start seeing the woman across the hall on a fairly regular basis. Do you ever go out? Do you do couple things that do not involve sex or fixing something in her apartment? Because I’m wondering if you are actually dating, or if she sees you as the hot man flesh that lives across the hall and services… well, whatever needs to be serviced. Since you two are not dating, then that opens the field to all of her friends, neighbors and the lady in the next building to call for some favors. Get your relationship straightened out first, then the so-called friends. And for your next letter, leave out the nearly nekked lady in the next building, that was a bit beyond believable. I’m a pretty gullible person, but I ain’t a stupid

ArchaeologyChick

[Full Disclosure: I have never had a hot neighbor who fixes stuff and wants to get busy, but if I did, he wouldn’t get a moments rest.]

Dear Emo,
Can I call you Emo? I think your therapist is not helping you and you should see another one. You do not live with an anxiety disorder, you treat it, you fight it, you most certainly do not give in, and you should never use it as a crutch. Now, your father is not putting you down. He is accepting the praise you have received and encouraging you to move beyond your comfort zone, which is also not a put-down. That is encouragement. A put-down is someone telling you that you are a worthless brat who’s frittering away your punk-ass life because you are too stupid and lazy to get a real job. That’s a put-down. Do not get the two confused. You need to get outside of your comfort zone. No, do not work in a high-pressure work environment, I doubt your dad wants you to get a job on Wall Street, but there are a lot of other options for a person who is shy and sensitive. Many people on the Fray have mentioned them. My personal favorite is going to community college and getting a degree in something child related. Good call! And definitely get a good therapist, because the last thing you want to do is whine to an

ArchaeologyChick

[Full Disclosure: The ArchaeologyChick has had depression coupled with panic and anxiety attacks and she fully understands the debilitation that comes with it. Emo still leaves the house and interacts with others: this is not a bad case of anxiety. When the ArchaeologyChick discovered that she was having a hard time leaving the house, she called a psychiatrist, took the drugs for a year, and has never looked back. She still gets random bouts of anxiety, but she grits her teeth, curls her fists and refuses to give in.]


Dear Irritated,
You are irritated? Boy am I irritated! You had a question regarding etiquette. Etiquette demands that you invite your damn step-mom and I don’t want to hear another word about it. No, no, your father has already told you that, “since you are inviting him, you should invite her too.” This is etiquette. Unless your father is still close to your mother, stem-mom will not be hanging out with your mother’s family. You will be in the stand, being bored out of your mind with your peers. How on earth is her presence going to bother anyone? I can assure you that her absence will cause a fuss. Also, this is your high school graduation. I’m sorry to be the one to point this out to you, but high school is not the apex of your life. At least you hope it is not the apex of your life. It’s also one of the most boring ceremonies ever invented, at least with college you get a degree out of it. Some Fraysters have suggested that you should be able to invite whomever you want to invite and that this is how you do it for weddings. Well, it would be great if we lived in that kind of world, but you will always have to invite someone you don’t really like to your most important moments. Hell, at your funeral they show up whether or not you like them! So there you go; etiquette requires that I answer your letter since I answered the others, but you have annoyed the hell out of this

ArchaeologyChick

[Full Disclosure: Yet again a certain parental sibling must be invited to the ArchaeologyChick’s wedding because the other parental sibling is also invited. To not do so without any better excuse than “they whine a lot” would cause a horrible rift far worse than putting up with 10 minutes of Aunt Ruth’s bunion stories.]


Dear Evidence,
I see no reason to destroy the items in question. Of course your mother doesn’t want you to show them around, she’s your mother! (Anais-Nin became famous for her erotica and spent time around amazing people, what’s wrong with that?) Since you would be sad to destroy them, don’t. It’s just that easy to decide. Now, as to place to put them… I have my very dull diary in a shoebox in the closet. I have yet to know a man who would open shoe boxes, since they expect to find shoes and why or why would a man want to see yet another pair of black heels? Unless you are dating a cross dresser with small feet, in which case you should show him the diary, a shoebox is a very safe place. You can put it in a lock box, you can put it in a bank vault, or you can put it in a freakin’ shoebox. And here is a hint for the rest of your life, you can go through life trying to hide your scandalous side, worried that someone is going to peek into your shoebox, or you can life your scandalous side out in the open and free as an

ArchaeologyChick

[Full Disclosure: The life of the ArchaeologyChick isn’t really that scandalous, but the things that she has done that might cause comment in polite society are generally well known to family, friends, colleagues, taxi cab drivers and that random guy in the bar.]

My favorite lines.....

ArchaeologyChick:

Dear Sir, Thank you so much for your submission! It was hilarious! I’m still laughing! [Full Disclosure: I have never had a hot neighbor who fixes stuff and wants to get busy, but if I did, he wouldn’t get a moments rest.]

Dear Emo, Can I call you Emo? I think your therapist is not helping you and you should see another one. You do not live with an anxiety disorder, you treat it, you fight it, you most certainly do not give in, and you should never use it as a crutch. Emo still leaves the house and interacts with others: this is not a bad case of anxiety.

When the ArchaeologyChick discovered that she was having a hard time leaving the house, she called a psychiatrist, took the drugs for a year, and has never looked back. She still gets random bouts of anxiety, but she grits her teeth, curls her fists and refuses to give in.

Dear Irritated, You are irritated? Boy am I irritated! Etiquette demands that you invite your damn step-mom and I don’t want to hear another word about it. I’m sorry to be the one to point this out to you, but high school is not the apex of your life. So there you go; etiquette requires that I answer your letter since I answered the others, but you have annoyed the hell out of this ArchaeologyChick

Dear Evidence, I see no reason to destroy the items in question. Unless you are dating a cross dresser with small feet, in which case you should show him the diary, a shoebox is a very safe place. [Full Disclosure: The life of the ArchaeologyChick isn’t really that scandalous, but the things that she has done that might cause comment in polite society are generally well known to family, friends, colleagues, taxi cab drivers and that random guy in the bar.]

Oops! Something just clicked in the back of my mind. If Irritated Grad has a married Aunt and Uncle who are/were also brother and sister, she very likely lives in a region of the country where a high school graduation is the high point of her life. She is probably the first in her family to get there, either because she can run faster than all the guys around or because she is sterile.

Good ones!

Nice work!

I want to thank the academy, my parents, my fiance, my cat, my dog, my god (Thor) whose always been there for me, my agent, Steve Jobs, Margaret Mead, all of those who have inspired me and the people who have pissed me off! I couldn't have done it without you!

[Full Disclosure: The ArchaeologyChick does not have a cat, a dog, or an agent.]

... and Thor ain't looking so great these days. You seen Law & Order?

<link>

Ah, but he's making a play for a comeback! He's borrowed my agent, apparently.

(mumble mumble geez I hope html works here... I can't seem to preview it to make sure it works...)

Polite company version.

When I went on work camp with my church, that name was given to my BF framing hammer. It had become the weapon of choice for mild-mannered pastors and a certain frustrated sorority girl.

I worked for a contractor a couple summers out of high school and kept my tools. They come in handy once in a while.

NSFW version.

These two mythical creatures awake after a drunken evening of debauchery.

First one shouts "I am Thor!" as he does every morning.

Second mumbles "Oh, thut up. I'm tho thor I can hardly pith."

AC- Exit Polls indicate a further increase in your surging popularity.

LMAO! Archaeology chick, I wish I had that neighbor too!

The myth of the hot neighbor does, on occasion, find its way into fact. My hubby, a repairman, got a call after hours one night and upon arrival was greeted by a woman in a full on black peignoir set complete with sheer robe and fluffy heals. My husband asked her if she had called. She did. He asked what seemed to be the problem, and she replied that she couldn’t get anything in the bedroom to work. At this point he took a step back and told her that he was

a. only there to deal with the service call

b. once he crossed her threshold he would charge her a base fee of $75 no matter what happened next

c. he was very married and, again, only there to deal with the service call.

The woman got quite huffy at this point and told him she KNEW that and that’s why she called. My husband went in and sure enough found the fuse box in her bedroom with blown fuses. He fixed it, presented the bill, she wrote a check, and that was that. My husband has never been called to the same house since, did not see any signs of a romantic interlude in progress or waiting in the wings and saw no obvious signs of a man about. The woman did not throw herself at him or act at all like she knew or cared that she was prancing around with nothing between her and a big, strong guy who might attack her. It ranks in the top three of weirdest calls he has dealt with. I personally wonder if she was planning an attack and my husband’s speech put her off.

That's his story and he's sticking to it!

"It ranks in the top three of weirdest calls he has dealt with."

Spill it! What were the other two?

Yeah, well, guess what? The fuses in my bedroom blew out again and I'm hoping the next repairman I call is a lot better looking than the last one they sent out! Yikes!

Tonto, along that line of thinking, wouldn't "stepmom" more than likely be an aunt, cousin or possibly a... sister? In such case, the stepmom would now have a double claim to prized grad ticket. Obviously, this senior, whose grad tickets are in such high demand, should simply offer the final two tickets to the highest bidder(s) allowing aunt, uncle and stepmom to show just how "close" they feel to graduate. Two empty seats can then be used to keep dad and mom and her family separated. Oh, and they'll come in handy for video cameras, purses, and other such tackle when not in use.