DEAR GABBY: My wife wants me to boink her with a banana, then bake it into a banana crème pie and throw it at her. Is this unusual?
DEAR BANANA BOY: Not at all. “fruit play” is an integral part of the sex life of most happy couples.
DEAR GABBY: I’m happily married, yet I fantasize about Brad Pitt during sex. What’s wrong with me?
DEAR SOMETHING: Not to worry — everyone fantasizes about Brad Pitt during sex. (If you fantasized about Glen Beck, I’d be concerned.)
DEAR GABBY: During sex my boyfriend wants me to cry “Baste my booty with your fiery hot love spatula!“ I want to please him, but whenever I try to say it, I crack up laughing and the mood is ruined. What can I do?
DEAR BOOTY: Men often want their partners to say ridiculous things during sex. It’s best to nip this kind of behavior in the bud with a simple “Don’t be daft.”
DEAR GABBY: I’m a 28 year old gay man. My boyfriend is a bassoonist who calls his penis “Brahms.” My last boyfriend, a librarian, called his cock “Dewey.” My first lover, an English professor, called his penis “Dickens.“ I’ve never nicknamed my cock! Is there something wrong with me?
DEAR ABNORMAL: Yes! You’d better slap a nickname on your schlong right away! Might I suggest: “Sigmund Freud” “Beowulf” “Mr. Grumpy” or “Donald Trump?”
DEAR GABBY: I’m a straight menopausal woman who can only achieve orgasm with folksingers. I’ve tried lawyers, firemen and poets but no dice. Is something wrong with me?
DEAR SINGER LOVER: Not at all. Most menopausal women need at least one folksinger to achieve orgasm. A lucky few can make do with a jazz trumpeter, but you, alas, aren’t one of them. On your first date with a banker, take him to a folk club on “open mike” night, get him wasted, then push him onstage and promise him a night of unbridled passion if he sings “Blowing in the Wind.” It’s so crazy that it just might work.
DEAR GABBY: I’m a bad boy. I need to be soundly spanked like the aberrant love monkey I know myself to be. What should I do?
DEAR MONKEY: Run for a seat in the US Senate. Alas, you’ll find plenty of company there.
(Roz Warren is the author of OUR BODIES, OUR SHELVES: A COLLECTION OF LIBRARY HUMOR.)
Dear Gabby,
It’s me again.
I took your advice but they won’t let me run for a seat in the US Senate.
Monkey.
You had me at “Peter-Sploot.” I shall consider all of Gabby’s advice. Good job.
A morning smoothie takes on new meaning.
Dear Gabby,
I never thought this would happen to me. I ordered a pizza…
Wait, wrong blog. Never mind.
HA!
I don’t know Roz. Juicing might never be the same for me again!
I thought this would be weird stuff.
Not weird enough for you? I’ll have to redouble my efforts.