Wednesday, February 01, 2006

Ask Crankset! (Part 2)

Ask Crankset! is an advice column written by an experienced cyclist, Wally Crankset, who answers all your cycling-related questions!


Dear Mr. Crankset,
I followed your advice and invited that guy with the shaved legs over to my place for dinner. And as you suggested, I made a big pasta salad with lots of cherry tomatoes and olives. He loved it! Even better, he brought a bottle of very good wine and some flowers! Where I was formerly "Uncertain", I'm now:
Signed
Giddy in Grove City


Dear Giddy,
Good for you! It's like my mama used to say, "Pasta will soothe the savage beast!"



Dear Mr. Crankset,
I tried to talk my fiance out of a career in politics by following your advice. He's thinking about it, but he's not certain that he has the artistic skill to be a pornographer, but he thought that being a chat show host or television anchorman would be appealing. Do you have any recommendations?
Signed
Vexed in Volant


Dear Vexed,
It's difficult to break into the televison business either as a chat show host or an anchorman. Suggest that your significant other sleep in one of those high-altitude tents that simulates altitude by reducing the oxygen he breathes. If his brain is deprived of enough oxygen, he could indeed become an anchorman or television reporter. But be careful. If he loses too much brain capacity, he'll wind up as just another right-wing AM radio talk show host.



Mr. Crankset
I can't believe you'd say something like that! It's not MY fault my husband is an uncaring, unrepentant slob, and you sound exactly like him! Men like you have no concept of how much we women do for you. You're insensitive, obtuse, ignorant, and you deserve to go through life alone. How can you live with yourself?
Signed
Mrs. (soon to be Ms.) Clean


Dear Mrs. Ms. (whatever),
Tell me the truth. Are you masquerading behind that name, and are you really one of my ex-wives? You sound just like Wanda Sue Neidermeier, my fourth (or was it fifth?) ex-wife. She left me to "find herself" and sure enough, she did. She found herself married to some poor loser whose highest ambition was to graduate from welding school. Wanda was a looker, though! She'd been "Miss Bullseye" in her hometown, Broken Elbow, Oklahoma, and that girl was a dead shot with a pistol - when she wasn't drinkin'. Is that you, Wanda Sue?




Dear Mr. Crankset,
I took my girlfriend out on a training ride and tried to crush her on the first hill, just as you suggested. To my surprise, she motored away from me, laughing all the way to the top. I spent the next hour trying to catch up. The girl may be a time-trialing wonder! She's a natural, for sure. I never had a chance to tell her to go home and fix me that nice dinner. Now what should I do?
Signed
The (former) Intimidator


Dear Intimidator,
Learn to cook, and fix HER a nice pasta dinner.

1 Comments:

Blogger Fritz said...

I love the followup! I'm looking forward to more.

I just noticed your definition of "CYCLEDOG." Has that always been there?

12:04 PM  

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