Mrs. Looney Toons

Dear Auntie Belles (1 through 3)

I wrote you about my husband's tendency to fart very loudly when we have guests over for dinner. He also licks the clean forks when my back is turned and liked to wear a babushka and roam around the neighborhood collecting rubber bands off the streets. 

You replied,

Dear Mrs. Loony Toon,

If he fetches and comes when you call him, you don't need a dog. Statistics say you'll out-live him, then you can get the plastic surgery so you won't get those stares of pity and disgust in public.

Auntie Belle

But then I looked back at the screen and you wrote:

Dear Mrs. Looney Toon,

Your husband has security issues, so he married a dog.  Don't hump his leg until the second date, but if he's lucky, you won't get one.

Auntie Belle

BUT WHEN I LOOKED AGAIN you had written:

Dear Mrs. Crazy As(s) Your Husband,

You don't need to be pretty, Honey, and in fact, would lose him if you improved. Just learn to love yourself as you are, even the hump; change your name, dye your hair, wear a wig, shave your head, wear a hajab and tell people you converted to Islam; convert to Islam and close all other options. 

Auntie Belle

I am so confused, every day I look at your column and think about my question and you give a DIFFERENT ANSWER!!!

Stop answering the questions differently. You are confusing me. And my husband is now a refrigerator. At least he can make ice.

Mrs. Looney Toons

Dear Mrs Looney Toons,
Read Sybil, or rent the movie of the same title, starring Sally Field and Joanne Woodward. Btw, your husband isn't a refrigerator; he's a German Shepherd. And that isn't ice he's making.

Auntie Belle

Next:

Damned Confused