Hey Aunt Beckster. I have a 3 year old, a one year old and just found out I’m pregnant again. So I’ll have a newborn, a 2yo and a 4yo this December. Now this pregnancy is something we tried for. I was all eye of the mother fucking tiger Imma gonna get pregnant now! Now that I am though, I’m a little freaked out.

Am I fucking nuts? How the hell am I going to do this? Having two kids drives me nucking futs some days. How crazy is having 3 kids really?

Do you have a minivan?

*looks around shiftily*

*crosses fingers behind back*

Having three kids is EASY as PIE. Heh. Heh. Heh. Disregard every other time I’ve said, “three is a fucking LOT of kids” because, um, it’s not.

Think about it like this: you’ll have a couple of ridiculously hard years, then? The kids will play together and leave you ALONE.

And yes, I do own a minivan (SHUT YOUR WHORE MOUTH) that may win an award for the UGLIEST thing ever. I hate minivans. But they’re really fucking useful. So there’s that.

So three? *flips hair back* Three kids are GREAT. They’re the magic number.

Hi Aunt Becky,

Without going into tooooo many details, my ex-husband decided going into the divorce that I was going to be psycho. He has told everyone we know (including teachers, OT, PT, daycare, etc.) that I am psycho.

When we split up, he had the upper hand and I was essentially left with the one u-haul (one day early, along with with my baby).

How do I deal with this?  I FEEL psycho, because he makes me feel psycho because he treats me like it, in order to make the divorce work out in his favor.

In other words, he decides I am crazy, so anything I do fits into that mold, no matter what.  What should I do? Sometimes I want to just leave the m’f’ng country but that would mean leaving my baby behind.

Seriously, AB, I am at my wits end here. I am a mom, and the dad is obviously smarter than me. What do I do? I just want to curl up and die. Really.  Or go back in time, except that then I wouldn’t have my baby, except…maybe that would be for the best?

Hurting and lost here.

Aw, Prankster, that’s what ex’s are good for: making you feel nuts. What you need is a good therapist or someone who can remind you that you’re not fucking psycho. In a couple years, with some distance, you’ll manage to see that it was never, ever you, and hopefully, feel less alone.

My heart breaks for you because I remember the insidious way that my ex made me feel all those years ago. You DO end up feeling like it’s you. I know that.

But I also know that it’s not me. Nor is it you.

So I suggest you find yourself a good therapist and a good defense attorney, scream EYE OF THE TIGER whenever you’re feeling low, and fight this motherfucker. Or you can give him MY phone number and I’ll tell him precisely what I think of him.

Ain’t NOBODY messing with MAH Pranksters.

Much love to you. Let us know what happens.

Dear Aunt Becky,

I have two not-so-related body image questions, and if you don’t mind I’m going to ask both now before they fly out of my memory.

First, I have a few acquaintances (FB friends, moms from school, etc.) who think nothing of publicly slamming other people’s bodies all the time.  You know, things like, “God, does she own a mirror?” or “To the lady in front of me at Target – you can’t pull off skinny jeans.”

This REALLY annoys me – and not just because I am a plus sized woman, which I only mention in the interest of full disclosure.  I have three daughters, and I don’t like the idea that their bodies could be seen as public property open to commentary from total strangers.  Life is tough enough for girls and women, and I hate the catty, competitive vibe that accompanies these comments.  Basically, I think a person’s body, style, etc. is no one’s business but their own.

Do I say something to these people?  Do I ignore it, or is that compromising my integrity?  I kind of wish I could cut some of them off, but I don’t want to create awkwardness that might trickle down to my kids.

My second question is about MY body.  Before having kids, I used to sleep naked all the time, especially in summer.  It was comfortable and cool, and it certainly made less laundry.  I find myself missing that, but I feel like good mommies should wear nightgowns and giant bloomers.  I have all girls, and I’d keep a nightshirt next to the bed to pop on in case of a middle of the night call (which, thank goodness, is not a regular event in my house anymore).  Obviously, I’d put something on before leaving my room in the morning.

Would I be a skanky, nasty mommy if I went back to the buff?

Love,
ChickaBoom

Dear ChickaBoom,

A) I find no reason why, if these people are commenting on the size, weight, or look, of others, that you can’t say something like, “I’m not sure that bitching about how other people look is the appropriate message to send our daughters.”

That, I’d think, would shut them right the fuck up.

2) Sleep naked. Period. If you like to sleep in the buff, go right the fuck ahead.

————–

Pranksters? What other advice can you give these people?

————-

Oh, and I’ll be picking a winner for the shirt contest on Monday.

————-

And my column from Cafe Mom is UP, yo!

Dear Aunt Becky,

Let me just start out by saying, you are fucking hilarious, and great!

Okay, I have PTSD, depression, anxiety, OCD, and a bunch of other stupid shit that I can’t deal with. I don’t even know how to start with dealing with it. I have panic attacks nearly every day, but I don’t know where to turn to for help.

Last time I talked to my mom about it, she had me hospitalized, and put on suicide watch for a month (this was after 2 of my brothers killed themselves, so I know she was trying to help me not follow in their footsteps) so I can’t go to my family. I need help, I know I do. I just need help getting help, which is super fucked-up I know.

Please, please help me.. I don’t know how to get through a day with out drinking/cutting myself/or other things I know are completely unhealthy.

Do you have any suggestions, or anything? Thanks, sorry to bug you.
-M.J.

Oh Prankster MJ, my heart hurts for you. Mental illness can be such a motherfucker, can’t it?

Now, it sounds as though you’re aware that you need help, which is the first good step. The second step: finding good help, may be tougher. Many doctors will require parental consent for treatment, which it sounds like you need. Although, not the inpatient suicide-watch you’ve been on before. You don’t exactly sound suicidal to me.

It sounds to me that with the right combination of therapist and/or medication, you could begin to develop healthy coping mechanisms to replace the unhealthy ones you’ve learned to rely upon. Sure, it’ll require plenty of work on your end, but you can do it. It sounds like you’ve already managed to live through worse, which means that treatment should be breezier for someone as tough as yourself.

I’d start by calling these numbers:

Boys Town National Hotline:

1-800-448-3000

Self-Injury Foundation
1-800-334-HELP

Teen Contact:

972-233-8223

to see what sorts of advice they have for you in terms of getting the proper treatment you require. I’m not as familiar with the laws governing parental consent as I should be, but I’d be willing to bet that these people would know where to direct you to further help you.

If you’re over the age of consent, then, well, you don’t need to worry about telling your parents (unless you’re on their insurance plan). In that case, I’d make an appointment with a doctor who specializes in handling your types of issues (I’d start with PTSD for one) and see if you click. If you don’t, try another one. If you don’t like that one, KEEP GOING UNTIL YOU DO.

Because if you’re going to get treatment from someone, you do need to click. And you’ll know when you do. From there, you and your doctor can develop a proper treatment plan.

I wish you the best of luck, Prankster. Sending you loads of hugs.

Pranksters? Any other advice for MJ?

—————

Dear Aunt Becky,

This isn’t really an aunt becky question per se…

I mean I am asking you a question through this because I can’t figure out where else to ask you.  I know I read somewhere on you blog “It’s gin o’clock somewhere.”  I think that’s awesome and funny and I want to use that phrase of yours in a post.  I’m too scared about getting syphilis to just go ahead and steal it (and I am not normally prone to thievery), so I want to ask you before I go ahead and do that.  Also, I think it’s PERFECT for your next t-shirt!!  I would be first in line to buy it.  🙂  Did you always know you were awesome?

DAMMIT! DAMMIT! DAMMIT! WHERE WERE YOU WHEN I WAS MAKING MY ORDER?!?!

I kid, I kid.

But I did, seriously, say it, and I am totally going to make that into a shirt. “It’s Gin ‘o’ Clock Somewhere.”

I am also going to take this opportunity to shamelessly remind you to order one of my new shirts. And enter into this contest, which, um, I guess I’ll draw a winner next Friday?

—————–

So here’s my beef Aunt Becky,

All of my BFF’s are popping out tiny clones of themselves. I already have 3 1/2 year old twin boys. I love said boys but they are a shit-ton of work. As I see all these cute pregnant bitches and then corresponding cute little leeches, I start to think I may want one. Then the other side of me is like what the frick is wrong with you. When I was pregnant with the doublemint twins it was not the cakewalk I wanted it to be. Bedrest at 6months, delivery at 32weeks, I almost died and stuff. 7 weeks in the NICU and a few near deaths in between.

I am super freaked out that if I have another baby I will be all trauma and this time I have 2 kids at home who need me as well. And what if the new kid is all left out because the first ones are all “wonder twin powers combine.”

I’m sure that I am overthinking all of this and just being a freak.

Really though, if you were me would you have another?

FUCK to the NO.

I mean, I was done with having kids after three anyway, but after the horribly traumatic birth and brain surgery and shit with Amelia? I cannot fucking FATHOM having to go into that again. I’d be a mess. I’d be SUCH a mess. I mean, MORE THAN NORMAL EVEN.

That said, don’t let fear hold you back from your dreams, or some such movie quote with a wispy-haired heroine staring wistfully off into the sunset.

Can you live your life content with the wonder boys? Will you always be wanting one more? Or will you always be wanting one more if you have fifty-seven kids? THOSE are the questions I’d think as I’d hide my uterus from invading sperm.

As for me? My uterus is CLOSED for business. Until I meet my rockstar husband, of course. Then it’s wide open, baby.

—————–

As always, please pick up wherever I left off in the comments, Pranksters. Opinions are like assholes and we want to hear yours. The opinions, that is. Not the assholes. Because that’s just GROSS.

Hey Aunt Becky!

First off, I’d like to say that I think you are an amazing, hilarious, smart, talented person. I’m not trying to suck up, I really do think this.

Secondly, my question is kind of simple, but I just don’t know what to do.

See, I’m probably one of your younger readers. As in, I can’t get my license right now because I’m not quite old enough. I am also depressed with borderline OCD, self-mutilation problems, and struggling with an eating disorder. As a teenage girl, most people just chalk all of this up to teenage angst and silly attention-whoring.

To be honest, they might be right. I’ve been getting better, slowly, but it’s difficult. Anyway, I’m just lost. You see, my older brother is going off to college in a few months and I don’t know what I’m going to do without him. I’ve had to deal with(and still do) years of emotional and sometimes physical abuse. I have an extremely difficult time talking about all of this, even to an anonymous place like Band Back Together.

Anyway, with my brother leaving, and more issues, I feel like I’m spiraling back down where I used to be. I don’t want to go back to the place I was in. I just don’t know what to do. Talking to people, is pointless, as they just tell me that my life isn’t that bad, so why am I depressed?

I realize this is long and rambling and kind of pointless, but I just wanted to know if there was anything I could do to pull myself back out of this…shithole(excuse my french) that I’m stuck in. What do I do? Thank you for reading all of this.

-Stuck in CS

Oh Prankster, you’re breaking my heart.

First, you’re not an attention whore. People who suffer from mental illness – especially self-injury – often are told that it’s just an “attention getting thing.”

They couldn’t be more wrong or more dangerous. Self-injury is a symptom of disease, just like high blood sugar is a symptom of The Diabeetus. Mental illness is no different than The Diabeetus.

I’m sorry that no one takes you seriously, because I a) understand and b) think it’s bullshit anyone else doesn’t. Mental illness is a serious disorder and should be taken as such.

Clearly, you need to find someone better, who is not bullshit, to talk to. Do you have a guidance counselor at school (shut your whore mouth, I loved my counselor) that doesn’t suck? Will your family listen? A family friend? Because you need to get into treatment of some type.

I’m going to give you some phone numbers that I’d like you to call:

Boys Town National Hotline:

1-800-448-3000

Self-Injury Foundation
1-800-334-HELP

Teen Contact:

972-233-8223

You don’t have to be a dude for the Boys Town hotline, and I’m certain they’ll have some valuable information and insight to give you.

If you are still being abused, please call this number to report it: 1-800-4-A-CHILD (1-800-422-4453) then push 1 to talk to a hotline counselor.

Prankster, you’re not alone, and we’re all rooting for you. I know how hard life can be sometimes (boy, do I ever) and I wish I’d had someone to talk to me during those turbulent teen years. I hope that you do write for Band Back Together, that you tell your story over there so it can help both you and others like you.

If I could tell my teen self one thing, it would be this: “it all passes.” Because it does. You’ll get through this because I can tell by your email that you’re a fighter. And anyone who doesn’t take you or your problems seriously because you’re a teenager is bullshit. Fuck them.

Keep reaching out. Grab the edge of that spiral and make it your bitch. You can get through this. I wish like hell it was easier for you.

Sending you love and light and a big, fat, hug,

Aunt Motherfucking Becky

———-

Pranksters, please help me help this girl. Give her some love and/or advice.

Dear Aunt Becky,

There is a burning question I think we all want, no NEED, to know that answer to.

Of the Uncrustables, (which I think we can agree are all awesome) – what’s your fav?  I personally can’t get enough of the PB/Honey….

Inquiring minds want to know.

As far as I am concerned, Prankster, there IS no other flavor than the Peanut Butter/Honey Uncrustables. In fact, I’d go so far as to say that all other flavors of Uncrustables are BULLSHIT.

Knowing that you’re a fellow Uncrustable lover makes my heart happy. And hungry.

(no, this blog is not sponsored by Uncrustables, just powered by it)

Dear Aunt Becky,

I was divorced a couple of years ago when my son was 2. Since then, he has been diagnosed with a (ultimately) terminal illness that will make him progressively mentally and physically impaired.

He is unable to report abuse (or even pain – he had an undiagnosed small bone in his foot for three weeks before we figured out what was going on because he never complained or even limped) because his vocabulary is approximately 50 words, all nouns like “apple”, “water” and “chicken” to let us know he is thirsty or hungry.

I am so fearful to get out into the dating world because I am afraid of predators who would love to get into a relationship with a woman whose 5 year old is unable to tell mommy about being molested. How many dates is appropriate before tell you tell a guy you have a kid, get to know that they like you for yourself and not for your luscious little boy? Yes, I have issues.

Signed,

MPS Mom

Dear Prankster, Living with a child with such an illness must be a tremendous stress and I’m very sorry. I’d love it if you wrote about it for Band Back Together.

When I met The Daver, my son – who is autistic and, at the time, had a very limited vocabulary – was two years old. The Daver knew from Moment One that I was “Becky, the girl with a kid” because that’s the way we were introduced. Ben has always been a part of my vocabulary and I’d never once considered that he might be after me for my kid.

If and when you’re ready to date, there’s no reason you have to introduce your kid to your dates until you trust them. That’s TOTALLY up to you!

However, I believe any future relationship may run into issues if your boyfriend learns way down the line that you have a kid. Might be a little off-putting and awkward.

I’d say tread lightly into the dating world if it worries you. Good luck, Prankster.

Dear Aunt Becky;

After reading almost all of your blog posts in a week (yes ma’am I have) I have determined: a) you’re the smartest person in the universe or b) slightly off key, and either way, I am seeking your advice, because I find I am not receiving good advice from my fam.

I’m a single mom, 2 years divorced, and trying one of the oft advertised “dating” websites, and wondering: WHY THE F**K ARE MEN SUCH F**KTARDS?

Why, after speaking to me for approximately two seconds, would anyone feel is it appropriate or appreciated to tell me the how’s and why’ of their sex life and what they prefer?

I clearly stated in my profile I want to know someone longer than a minute before divulging my preferences about having the sex, so why does anyone think that is appropriate? UGH.

I am destined to be single forever.

DOUBLE UGH.

I might prefer to be single.

Thank you, Aunt Becky (btw, you’re far cooler than any of my real aunts, even though I think you may be younger than me in real life, which would be very strange.)

-Aggravated at Dating in General.

Aw, Aggravated, I’d be happy to be your Aunt. Adopting The Internet RULES, especially because I don’t have to buy it all Christmas gifts. Although since you said I might be the smartest person ever, I’ll buy you LOTS of presents. LOTS.

I’m going to make the assumption that you’re not using Match.com (read: hook-up.com) or Craig’s List to find dates.

Do you remember Penis Gate? Are you on The Twitter? If you were, you probably would.

Basically, word got out that a certain well-known daddy blogger had been sending naked weenie pictures of himself to others (people tend to email me pictures of a) three wolf moon paraphernalia or b) orchids). Like a lot.

So I made a joke about it. And it comes to my attention that THIS IS A COMMONISH THING. Which makes me wonder a) why I don’t get naked weenie pictures and b) why the fuck anyone would WANT a naked penis picture. #blech.

There are certain men (and women) out there, I suppose Prankster, that are just morons. And the availability of Internet hook-ups makes enough of them think it’s perfectly normal to be all Uncle Pervy.

Just think of it like your Pervy Uncle who goes out to weddings and tries to grind with everyone from the cocktail waitress to the wall because he thinks you want to rub up against his sweaty wang. There’s those guys out there. And the guys who kindly ask you to dance.

They’re there. Just not as….prominently.

And should you decide to remain single together, you can move on in with me. I have cats AND orchids. We can be two freaks in a house. Maybe we should learn to KNIT!

This is gonna be EPIC.

For Father’s Day, instead of thanking all the men in my life which, GAG, we decided a blog carnival over at Band Back Together would be a better idear.

So all day today, you’ll see Father’s Day from some different perspectives: some good, some bad, some truly awful, but all real stories. Just like you like ’em.

If you’ve written about Father’s Day on your own blog, you can link up to The Master Blog Post here (that looks to me to say “Masturbater” but I think I’m exceptionally tired).

Please feel free to celebrate Father’s Day With The Band. I know I’ll be there.

Blog, Blog, GOOOSE!

Dear Aunt Becky & her Awesome Pranksters:

My most pressing question, only because it’s not something that can be answered by looking up local legal codes or consulting the legal counsel I can’t afford anyway, is how to tell my 3 year old, brilliant, observant, sensitive, & already adapting to the role of caretaker at age fucking THREE, Mama & Daddy won’t be loving together anymore.

See, I’ve been so busy trying to survive, take care of my daughter, & deal with the chest-tightening, ever-present, want-to-shoot-myself-anxiety, & not fall into a severe depression, that I didn’t have time to read the Guide on How to Get Out of a Bad Marriage Without Completely Destroying Your Child in the Process.

I know, right? You’d think I’d have carved out some time for that one. But thank god I haven’t lost my snark & sarcasm or my will to clean? Make my reservation in the asylum.

So, my dear Aunt Becky. What you got for me?

Well, first things first, if you’re actively suicidal, please call 1-800-273-TALK (8255). I’m serious, here. That’s not like a joke phone number.

And I’m going to give you a couple of resource pages from Band Back Together to look at so that you can take care of YOUR mental health. Suicide Resources, Anxiety Resources, Depression Resources

Your daughter sounds to be very intuitive and has probably already realized something was wrong. I would recommend talking to her in very concrete terms. Children don’t understand euphemisms and are prone to interpret things differently than adults.

That said, these are the key things you should try and touch on when you tell your daughter that you’re getting a divorce.

a) The divorce has nothing to do with you. You didn’t do anything wrong. This is not your fault.

b) Mom and Dad both love you dearly no matter what happens. We will always be your parents, even if we live in different houses.

c) Everything will be fine. Even if it seems scary and different now, everything will be just fine.

d) It’s okay to feel sad.

I hope that helps, dear Prankster.

Aunt Becky,
Is there a book on the way? I am unable to submit my request to your publishers or my e-mail for the chapter.

So I’ll do it here: hell yes, I’d buy Aunt Becky’s bookssss.

Dave

Dear Dave,

That seems to be the question plaguing me.

I’ve recently parted ways with my agents and realized the publishing industry is in the crapper, so I’m not entirely certain if I SHOULD write a book. I certainly can (although I’d need to ascertain what, exactly, I’d write about) and would be happy to, but I’m not sure if I should simply chuck the idear of finding new agents, praying for a publisher, then writing the thing. Certainly, I could try.

The logical step would be, of course, to simply write the damn thing and sell it as an e-book.

The question remains: should I? I’m asking you, Pranksters, because I trust your opinion. Should I bother trying to self-publish an e-book or is that as useless as the time I tried to cook dinner?

I’m having a mini-crisis over here about it and would genuinely love your input (not about dinner, of course. We all know I live on Uncrustables and cereal).

Should Your Favorite Aunt Becky bother writing and self-publishing a book? Do you know any publishers that would heart me? What type of book would you like to read? You can answer in the comments or send me an email: becky.harks@gmail.com

If you guys really think I can do this, then I will. MY FATE IS IN YOUR HANDS, PRANKSTERS.

Love,

Your Aunt Becky who may or may not be gulping Xanax while she writes this.

(P.S. if you are a publisher, please publish my book, no questions asked)

Hey Aunt Becky –

I submitted a question once before and your answer was pretty awesomesauce, so I thought I’d have a another go at it.

I’m (I think) what you bloggers call a lurker.  I read several blogs every day but I don’t think I’ve ever commented.  A lot of the time I’m several days behind or I just don’t feel like I have anything interesting/relevant to add to whatever discussion is taking place but sometimes I just realize that it’s kind of weird to be sitting in my living room with my coffee reading up on some stranger’s life!

I don’t want to be a creepy non-contributing lurker.  Is it as rude and weird to just sit there creeping on blogs without commenting or should I suck it up and make comments every once in awhile?  I follow the blogs because they are interesting to me, have excellent writing or because I can relate.

I’m not a total weirdo recluse, I promise.

Thanks in advance for your complete awesomeness!

Oh, Dear Prankster, I don’t think you’re a weirdo recluse for not commenting. Not a bit.

It used to be that blogging “currency” (if I may)(and I always motherfucking may) was comments. It’s always been a little controversial to put up a donate button/tip jar* therefore a comment was the next best thing.

Since people began to read blogs in their readers (Google Reader, Feedburner, etc), commenting has gone the way of the condor. If the condor is actually dead. If he’s not, then I just lied. If you have a full feed published to your reader (which you should), people just read there.

The obvious answer would be to publish a partial feed so people click through, but partial feeds piss people off. For good reason. From a reader’s point of view, bloggers should make their blogs as accessible as they possibly can. EVEN IF IT MEANS LOSING A FEW CLICK-THROUGHS.

Also killing comments is that there are a number of commenting systems that are, flat out, a pain in the fucking ass to use. I read hundreds of blogs. If it takes me twenty minutes to figure out HOW to leave a comment, guess who loses a comment?

The Twitter and The Facebook don’t help. People comment there instead of on your blog.

And frankly? I don’t care. You don’t have to comment. I love comments, don’t get me wrong, but I’m happy enough to know my lurkers (and six kazillion robots) are out there.

And, lurkers, if you ever want to speak up, please do (or send me an email: aunt.becky.sucks@gmail.com). I’m beyond happy to make your acquaintance.

*don’t hate the player, hate the game.

Dear Aunt Becky,

Did you know there’s a new sitcom on ABC called “Happy Endings?”  Whether you knew is important, Aunt Becky, because I recently watched a DVR’d episode of said show, and not once, but TWICE, they stole your “Shut Your Whore Mouth” phrase.  I do not know if you are secretly working on this sitcom and put it in there so only your lovely Pranksters would recognize it, or if the writers stole your phrase.

So, if you are a secret writer on Happy Endings, kudos–I heard your phrase and recognized your handy work.  If you are not, then you might want to go EYE OF THE MOTHERFUCKING TIGER on ABC.

Your call.

Dear ABC,

I want some fucking royalties, ABC. Now.

Do NOT make me unleash The Pranksters on you, ABC, because I so totally will. And, ABC, do you KNOW what they did to John C. Mayer? They made him a VERB.

Yeah.

ABC, you don’t want that.

I’ll be expecting your check in the mail, ABC.

Cheers!

Aunt (motherfucking) Becky

Hey, Aunt Beck!

Was wondering…are your tees cut for chicks?  You know, a little fitted, a little more narrow at the waist, more of a cap sleeve?

The nosy, and possible purchaser, want to know!

Thanks!

Excellent question, inquiring Prankster.

Fashion Cut shirts = girls shirts = more fitted and tightish around the waist. Now, let me tell you something and don’t get all vain about it when you order one. BUY ONE SIZE UP. Just trust me.

That said, they make your rack look TREMENDOUS.

In which case you’re a dude. Then you probably want to go with Unisex.

And you should buy one. All of you.

(or not)

P.S. Working on new designs, too. Loved your suggestions last week. Thank you.

Dear Pranksters,

I’m planning to make some new shirt designs, but since I cannot eat a sandwich without first consulting The Internet, I am asking for your opinion. In nifty poll form!

Would you order any of these shirts? Check all that apply. And, of course, you can write any other suggestions in the comments.

[poll id=”6″]

Dear Aunt Becky,

I’ve been at this craptastical job for 5 years, during which they ass raped me with a spiked concrete dildo during both my maternity leave and the more recent incident with my husband’s stroke. During that, not only did they choose to string out the Medical Leave paperwork and make it more stressful than my HUSBAND BEING IN THE ICU, but also kept me on a line about whether or not they would be laying me off.

I’ve just been offered a job at Apple Retail (which I will be accepting) and be able to do my photography (holla!) and virtual assistance on the side (if you are a photographer or small business owner, check me out! http://thephotogshelper.com *cough* ) and will be starting training this weekend.

Now, my question is this! What is the most epic way to quit? I don’t care about burning bridges, as they have already screwed me here to there and I would rather whore myself out than try to come back here to work, but I want something good.

Sincerely,

Pissed in Portland

Dear Pissed in Portland,

My suggestion is something that someone I knew once did. Not, of course, myself, because I’m a VERY classy person. Or maybe it was a dream I had. I don’t remember.

He went in on the day he was going to quit and took a gigantic piss on his bosses keyboard. He then left his resignation letter floating in the piss puddle on the desk.

You would probably have to put your pee in a jar, but you know, same sentiments.

Do let us know what you decide to do. And Pranksters? Any suggestions?

Dear Aunt Becky

I have 3 kids with autism. What this means is that I am always too sleep deprived to be quick on my feet when people say stupid shit to me. Usually I can think of a snarktastic reply to stupid shit later, and use it on the next idiot.

Example:

Them: That child just needs some discipline! (i.e. Why don’t you beat him?! I would totally beat him!)

Me: OMG! Why didn’t I think of that! Of course, I’ve just been letting him do whatever he wants whenever he wants without the first thought of trying to discipline him. WOW. Thank you for curing his Autism with a single ignorant remark!

However, I have run into one I don’t know what to do with. And since you seem to be thoroughly awesome at snark…

How in hell do you reply to, “Is your kid a retard?”

I refuse to reply, “No, but I have my doubts about you” simply because that would be using that horrible slur back on someone else. It’s not okay to use the r-word, regardless of how stupid someone is. So… do you have an idea?

Jesus Christ, people can be such ignorant fuckbags, can’t they?

Honestly, I’d shoot them the death glare for a couple of loooooooonnnngggg moments before replying with, “Hey, FUCK YOU.” Baring that, “you shut your whore mouth,” always works.

Pranksters? Any thoughts?

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As always, your sage advice is appreciated in the comments below. What would you tell these Pranksters to do?

And submit your questions to the Go Ask Aunt Becky section at the top of the blogs, if you dare.

Dear Aunt Becky,

My grandpa died a few years ago. About a year after he died my grandma met Sam. He was a widower and they seemed to hit it off. No one else in the family was impressed. He isn’t very friendly, and did’t seem happy when Grandma insisted on coming to family events. I’ve only met him a few times, actually, because he doesn’t like to come around. That means I don’t see Grandma often because she doesn’t come without him. He had grandma sell her house and move away from the rest of the family about 4 hours away. We just wanted Grandma to be happy, and she seemed to be so we didn’t make a big deal about it.

A few weeks ago my cousin was staying with them, and they must have thought she was asleep, because she heard them arguing. She went to see what the noise was about and saw Sam hitting my grandma. Grandma admitted it happened but said it was the only time. Now we find out that Sam convinced my Grandma to put the proceeds of the sale of her house into a joint checking account. They have a pre-nup, but we’ve also discovered it only protects his money and not hers. Her money is now their money! Grandma is having significant health problems and we also found out that she is still expected to cook and clean and basically wait on Sam hand and foot even though he is in good health and she isn’t.

I am sick about this. We don’t know what to do. Grandma is from the generation that you don’t get divorced. Aside from killing HIM or kicking his ass, what can we do to get through to her?

I really want to go Eye of the Motherfucking Tiger on this asshole. Anyhow. My anger is not particularly valuable or helpful.

Elder Abuse is defined as a intentional or negligent act that causes harm or risk of harm to a vulnerable adult.

It’s clear that Sam is abusing your grandmother. Since she’s a vulnerable population, there are special agencies that you can contact about this.

If you (or anyone else) believe someone to be in danger, obvs call 911.

Please call Eldercare this week at 1-800-677-1116. They can give you specific information about how to get your grandmother the help she needs. It’s a directory of services in your area that you can utilize for help and additional resources.

I also have a list of State-By-State resources for the elder abuse reporting and assorted programs for the elderly in your state. It’s an excellent resource.

National Domestic Violence Hotline 1-800-799-SAFE (1-800-799-7233)
Staff provide callers with crisis intervention, information about domestic violence, and referrals to local programs 24 hours a day, 7 days a week. Telephone assistance is available in many languages, including Spanish.

The Directory of Crime Victim Services is a Web-enabled, online resource sponsored by the U.S. Department of Justice, Office for Victims of Crime (OVC). The directory is designed to help service providers and individuals locate victim services in the United States and other countries. Search by location, type of victimization, service needed, or agency type.

(Shit, now you’re going to see that I may have exaggerated my cat video consumption. I’m showing you what a NERD I am. Damns. See I do a lot of researching and writing pages for Band Back Together, like THIS one, on Elder Abuse).

I wish you luck, Prankster. I’m so sorry your grandmother is being abused. If you need help “taking care of Sam” I’m in.

I’m not super-familiar with elder abuse, beyond this, so please, Pranksters, help me out here.

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As always, Pranksters, feel free to submit your most pressing questions to Go Ask Aunt Becky.

Dear Aunt Becky,

You deleted me? Really? Why was my comment deleted?

When in doubt, assume gnomes.

P.S. I have an overly aggressive-spam filter that catches everything from Your Brilliant Comment to Penis Enlargement Tips in the multiples of thousands per day. Sometimes, I’m lazier than others. Perhaps you can do this for me to ensure not one of your comments goes deleted again.

Dear Aunt Becky,

I am an inconsistent, blogger, twitterer, 4squarer, facebooker, you name it.  All of which, I participate in because it’s fun. Were it not for TwitterSquareSpace, I would have never found you.  With that…

I am being stalked on a daily basis by my bosses wife who has too much time on her hands.

One day I 4squared from where I had lunch with the boss.  I have twittered how the boss is the devil.  All in innocent fun.   But it has now gotten ugly.  Wife watches my every move online, interrogates husband, threatens to kill me.  Do I quit my online shenanigans to appease, or pump it up and bring on the drama?

Oh Prankster, I’m the WRONG person to ask about this sort of thing, because the moment this sort of shit happens, I kick it up a notch. Possibly thirty notches.

So, DO AS I SAY, NOT AS I DO.

Sounds like Your Stalker is either wildly insecure or crazy or both but since she’s the one who has your bosses balls in a jar under her bed somewhere, you’d best back off the BOSS Tweets. I’d say that anything ELSE is fair game.

Especially gnomes.

Dear Aunt Becky,

John C Mayer is an Asshole, isn’t he….NOT

Is this one of those cryptic messages, like, “The dog barks at midnight over a bowl of saffron gravy?”

Because then I’d have to respond with, “The crow eats ranch dressing.”

Then we’d lock eyes across the room from each other and slowly do the chin-raise-nod, “you know what wins? YOU!” look of appreciation, right before we launched a nuclear missile and blew up whatever the USSR is calling itself these days.