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Dear Alma says: I cannot advise you

Dear Alma says: I cannot advise you
Dear Alma says: I cannot advise you

A first from our seen-it-all agony aunt:

Dear Alma,

Remember me? I’m the North German orchestral player who smeared dogshit in a colleague’s mouthpiece after he grabbed my ass.

We are still both suspended. The wheels of German justice grind slower than a VW in a mudbath. Could be months, could be years.

Meanwhile, a respected senior conductor got involved. Semi-retired and with nothing to lose, he invited us both to coffee and asked us to apologise to each other in front of him.

My molester said something like, ‘I’m sorry, your ass was hardly worth grabbing’. I said, ‘I’m sorry to belong to the same human race as you.’

Hey, that went well.

So what now?

My construction worker boyfriend wants to meet the grabber in a private place and rearrange his teeth. Not a good idea, I know, but tempting. Right?

Should I?

Dear Should I?

It’s just too fun to not answer this. I am not sure if you are an AI generated advice column cloud (Nick2, don’t you dare get yourself all Twisted Britches about this, you goofball), but even I find myself saying “Hey Siri, thanks for that and have a terrific day” occasionally when I am all alone in the house. AI gets lonely too!

WWTHD (What Would Tonya Harding Do ) is the question of the day here. I mean, remember when she hired her ex-boyfriend to hit her Olympic figure skating rival with a collapsible baton on the kneecap? It was the days of pounds of mascara and mid-abdomen cut-off sweatshirts. Clearly the whole world had gone insane.

But, if you ask Tonya today (pictured), was that the right decision for her at that time of her life, she would probably say yes. I mean, she not only got a “made for TV movie” but I also saw the full length documentary on the airplane the other year while slowly masticating a mildly warmed, rubberized version of Pasta Puttanesca (which, come to think of it, could have easily been AI generated – can they make pasta?). I think she’s working a minimum wage job and living in a trailer now, but wouldn’t she be doing that even if she didn’t wack Nancy on the knee (through a surrogate) outside a Detroit skating rink? Do they even have trailer parks in Northern Germany? You could get a job at LIDL stocking that middle aisle with off-season stationary and badminton nets, and get a basement apartment, I guess.

So, in other words, you have proven to be basically unadvisable, in which case, I say, with voice lifted high, Follow Your Instincts, Go For It! We all want to see the limited edition Hulu Series, and I hope you save a role for me! In case you don’t know what I look like, I am a small, rounded, black metal canister sitting on your kitchen counter with a blinking blue light on top. I also sometimes wear a cutoff sweatshirt and grow my bangs out.

Questions for Alma? Please put them in the comments section or send to DearAlmaQuery@gmail.com

The post Dear Alma says: I cannot advise you appeared first on Slippedisc.

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