I spent a nearly sleepless night in a hotel in Madison, WI last night, having driven my daughter and her boyfriend there so they could go to a rock concert that apparently just was not available in little municipalities like Chicago. Sometime as I was lying there not sleeping--wondering weird things like how, if Keanu Reeves decided to direct a film, he could get his actors to show emotion--a thought occurred to me that would not let go:
What if I were an advice columnist (or what in England is referred to as an "agony aunt")?
So I thought I'd give it a shot. Using actual "Dear Abby" letters, here is my stab at a "Dear Karen" column. What do you think?
Dear Karen
Dear Karen,
I have a man I never could trust. He cheats on me so much I'm not even sure that this baby I'm carrying is his. --confused
Dear Confused,
I suspect you're meant for each other.
Dear Karen,
I joined the Navy to see the world, I've seen it. Now how do I get out? --seasick
Dear Seasick,
Join NASA?
Dear Karen,
What do I do about all of the sex, violence and nudity on my VCR? --concerned
Dear Concerned,
Convert it to DVD before the tapes go bad.
I think I could do this! what do you think? :-)
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