Friday, April 24, 2009

Biff Answers Prudence's Mail

Dear Prudence:
I did something recently that concerns me on many levels. I am under a large amount of stress because I'm in an unhappy marriage (which we're trying to work out) and because my company laid me off. I am under treatment for depression. A week ago, my doctor doubled the dosage of my antidepressant and, because I'm not sleeping well, he prescribed Ambien. On Saturday morning, I confused the vials and took two Ambien. I told my wife what happened and that I would probably sleep all day and went to bed. At around 10 p.m., my wife commented on how productive I had been: mowing the lawn, cleaning up, grocery shopping. I remembered none of this and said so. She said her only concern was that I left for “errands” and returned two hours later with nothing in hand. I talked to my doctor Monday, and he told me Ambien can cause amnesia and that some people have reported walking, driving, and cooking in their sleep. I know now what filled the missing two hours. This afternoon, I got a call from a woman who called me "lover" and asked when I wanted to come back. She called me her f—k buddy. This is a woman I had talked to only twice before in social situations. I do not even know where she lives; maybe I phoned her for directions. I do find her attractive, but I am stunned that I did something like this. My wife is vindictive, and if I say anything to her, it will end our marriage. I do not want to continue a relationship with the other woman. What should I do?

—Scared Sleepless

Dear SS:
I feel you, dog. Once, while medicated on tequila tonics, I tripped and fell penis-first into my sister-in-law’s vagina. Medicated off my ass, I couldn't get up, and, in fact, the more I tried to stand, the more I failed, falling repeatedly in and out of her inopportunely placed orifice. Finally, when I could fall no more, my testicles—also medicated—vomited their baby batter into her devil hole. After which, I passed out. When I awoke, like you, I couldn't remember a thing (you know, besides the stuff I just told you). Long story short, my son calls me, “Uncle Biff.” (Really, it’s better this way.) So, I know what you’re going through.

My advice: take two Ambien and sleepwalk your cheating ass over to a divorce attorney’s office. Unlike me, you are in big trouble.

— Prudent Biff


Blogger reenee said...

See? This is the kind of post that oddly arouses.

11:17 PM  

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