okay. i've been inspired by blood. wait.. that sounds manson-like. bloody spaniard's post inspired me. that's better!

i thought about starting an advice thread. since my email is kaput from the outgoing side, i can't go about telling people what to do and how to do it very well, now can i? 😉

seriously, though, i'd like to play Dear Abby for a couple of days (to get this rolling). anyway, post your "dear abby" like questions, or "ask cavallo" or what not, and then someone else can jump on up here and play the part of the Wise Advisor on, say, wednesday night.

if i can pull off playing such a part, i thoroughly expect an oscar, btw. 😃

okay. shingle's up, and the advice-giver is IN! (anyone who wants to be up, email me. also, if you want advice but don't want to post under your handle, email me: BBELTRISI at ec.rr.com).

let's get goofy! eh, or serious. your choice.

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FREE ADVICE: THE "ABBY" IS IN
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Dear Dr. Cavallo,

I keep getting pebbles in my shoes. What should I do about it?

Sincerely,

Rocky in Rockport

dear rocky:

well, they say that a life without friends is like a garden without flowers. words to live by!

you really should be counting your blessings, rocky. first off, if you're from rockport, you're probably wealthy enough to hire someone to pick you up and carry you everywhere you want to go. violâ! -- no more problematic pedestrian pebbles! by the way, that little B&B by the ocean in that place where all the divers take their practice -- isn't that just charming? try the brunch sometime. faboo.

now then. count your blessings! life could be worse for you, rocky. you could have no shoes at all. or you could have no feet to put shoes on. or you could have no fingers to tie the shoes that you don't have to put on your non-feet.

makes you think, doesn't it...

Thanks! And here I was just gonna buy new shoes - ones without holes in them.

Thanks Dr. Cav!

that's why they (well, just you really, but) call me DOCTOR cav! you're welcome -- and just think, you can put that shoe money towards cigars now, too! 😃

and now, a pause for station identification and a message from The Beauty Advisor:

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you're tuned to cbid misc forums, and boy is this miscellaneous!

tip o' the hour from The Beauty Advisor:

If you have an unsightly zit on your face use an eyeliner pencil(in a brown shade) and turn it into a beauty mark!

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Deer Doktor Caballo,

I hav the lofliest ladi, you'd ever want to no. She havs beutiful oborne hare, most of her own white teef, a figure dat makes you pant, and a sparklink personaleety fulls of quicks wit. Bestess of all, she's given me 5 beutiful chillen. Man, I luvs her lots!

The prublem, doktor, is dat she's berry argumenstative wif my wife an jes won't get along wif my udder girlfren.

Whatt does I doo?

Purplexed player frem DC


PS: I respekts yore posts a lot. Ees dat yore own hare or you been to Mr. Rays' Hair Weave Emporium two?

PP in DC:

yours is a very common problem, mister player. but before we get into that, thank you for the lovely compliment. and YES! i have been known to wear The Weave on occasion. how sweet of you to notice!

now then, mister sassy pants, back to your problem.

we have to start low and go lower here. sometimes when you hit the bottom, you just have to dig! dig like the wind! or is it break like the wind? who knows. anyway, can you dig it?

PP, this has F-E-A-R written ALL over it! human beings are odd little ducks. if we meet something new to us, our first instinct is to FEEEEEAAAR it. this is leftover from our caveman days, much like your knowledge of the english language! oh, but i kid. i love, and i kid.

what your wife is going through is simple cavewoman fear. this other scary creature, genus "girlus friendus" has her knickers in a knot because she doesn't understaaaaaand this "other" in your life. the most dangerous thing in the world is the human imagination left to run amock with no information to settle its butt down! your wife is thinking, "who is this woman? does he love her more than me? if he does, will any of his sweet sweet lubbins be left for me?" oh, ALL kinds of fear here, sweetie. it's a FEAR FRENZY in your wife's addled little head!

well, just like the cavemen and cavewomen of old, you can use that nifty thing we call "fire" and shed some light into that old gal's walls! er, cave walls that is. let's not go too kinky!

what you need to do is pick a time when you're all three available and not harried or burdened with too much of life's silly old problems, and make some FIRE in that cave of yours! a little wine, perhaps, a little barry white on the stereator -- introduce that girlfriend of yours to your wife. show her that the "ooooooooo! big scary OTHER!" is just a shadow in her dark imagination, just a shadow on the wall caused by the moon! "see, honey?" you can tell your wife "she ain know kina monstir gon byt your azz!"

indeed, your wife will see that this "threat" is really no threat at all! just a sweet little pussycat, not about to harm a single soul. encourage your wife and girlfriend to talk, get to know each other. you know, explore each other a bit and feel each other out. or up. i think you'll all three be feeling close and cozy in NO time!

thanks for sharing,
dokter cab

p.s. did you know that the word "illuminate" comes from the latin "lumin" which means "light?" well, silly, now ya do! now go get 'em, tiger, and light BOTH their fires!

Dear Cavvy,

I have a problem. I'm supposed to put a corporate product in every package we ship out but I don't. I only put it in the ones that go to the people I like or the occasional onesey-twosey. I like looking at the pallets of our corporate products, but feel that not everyone is deserving of one. Is it wrong to feel this way? Should I change and why?

Signed Gonz
Flint, ME

Daer Dr. Cavallo,

I am convinced you are nucking futs. And I LIKE IT!

Macs Daddie & DrMoodie, yo both shore does git aroun'. Why yore tabacky stained fingers mus bee reel tired from all dat constan' jabberin' 'n such on dem keeboards.

Hey Dok, you forgots 'bout my udder girlfren when you was pontificatin'.

Butt dats otay. I unnerstood most of wot you was prattlin' 'bout.

I'se gonna takes yore advise, pass my winds, 'n gits off de bowl. Then, I'm gonna play sum "Sniff Doggie Poop" on my stiriator and treat my beeeaaatches reel gud.

Y'all stay warm in luv. Peace out.

PP in DC

Dear Dr.Cavallo,whenever someone pulls my finger,I fart. Why is that? X

before i answer these next 'uns, what i wanna know is who's up to be Dear Abby (or whomever) next? first one to post gets it.

dear gonz:

i think it's best to answer to your dilemma with a parable, if you will.

you see, once upon a time there was a man who owned a humble campground. he'd only get a handful of people there each season, but he was a simple man -- much like you -- and was content.

but one summer he decided to give the folks who camped there a little something extra to like about the campground, and he arranged for a lake to be dug and filled with water.

well, let ME tell YOU! they were NUTTY for the lake. aaaaaaabsoluuuuuutely loved the lake, these campers. so they told their friends, and next summer, sure enough, the man had twice as many campers. well then! he had a little more money in his pockets these days -- are you with me so far? good.

so the man thought, "if i do this well now, think of how much more business i could do if i was open in the winter months, too!" well, sure, but who's going to go jump in a frozen lake? aside from those creepy "polar bear club" people, that is. but i digress. the man decided to take his newfound wealth and put it into a heating system for the lake.

the early october winds grew chilly, and people who had camped there in the summer came back to enjoy one last fling with mother nature before heading back to their nowhere jobs and the daily grind. they frolicked and picnicked, and some took advantage of this lovely new amenity, this heated lake, and jumped in for a little swimmypoo.

then tragedy struck.

something went horribly wrong. the electrical system fritzed, and the campers died slow, horrible deaths by electrocution. white bellied swimmers shrieked and sank and came floating to the top -- oy! i tell you, it was SUCH a tragedy!

well, the campground owner went mad at the sight of what his greed had done to him and stabbed himself in the eye with a plastic spork and died. not immediately. he barely made a scratch -- the infection got him, though.

anyway, the moral of this story is... YOU CAN'T HAVE YOUR LAKE AND HEAT IT, TOO!!!!

so you see, mister tighty fists, when you hold back like that f'no reason? people suffer. just think of how many had to suffer through that horrible pun tale just because you can't shake loose a bit of the goodies.

put the matches in the packages, mister stingy britches!

Holey moley guacamoley!

Wotcha talkin' 'bout Willis?

I like lots of sex,lots of cigars, and lots of Heineken whats my prognosis. Dr. prognosticator...


first I like to drink my Heineken with a cigar, than I like sex and cigar, after sex I like a cigar with my Heineken.

the mysterious X writes:

"Dear Dr.Cavallo,whenever someone pulls my finger, I fart. Why is that?"

we're going to have to reach down... way down... lower... lower... RIGHT THERE! yes. we're going to have to reach way down into the recesses of children's nursery rhymes and missing lyrics to get to the bottom, so to speak, of this one!

do you remember the skeleton song? "the head bone's connected to the... neck bone. the neck bone's connected to the... shoulder bone..." and so forth.

as we go down the body we connect up the tail bone to the hip bone, the hip bone to the leg bone...

well, everyone KNOWS that one's tail bone is not connected to the hip bone -- unless, perhaps, you're the elephant man or michael jackson! so where's the missing bone? ah HA!!!!!!!!!!!!

"the finger bone's connected to the fart bone" is the missing line!

apparently many world leaders at the time were being embarrassed during handshakes. FDR would go to shake DeGaulle's hand and sneak in a little finger pull while he was at -- well. you know what happens when your finger's pulled. how would you like it to be in front of thousands of people and amplified by microphone?

alas, finally a secret world leader convention was held, and it was agreed upon to strike these lyrics from the children's song.

"we cannot save this generation," said winston churchill (and rumor had it that cigar smoke wasn't the only stinky thing this gent exuded!) "but perhaps, with the passing of time, as these lyrics fade into the buried depths of history forgotten..." yadda yadda. you know he could go on and on like that.

so while indeed today the finger bone is still connected to the fart bone, this little trick of nature has mostly faded from corporeal memory. pull a finger, and one will fart, yes, but at least this knowledge is not as rampant as it once was.

little known fact: the "skeleton song" faded to obscurity when a then-contemporary new children's song was ushered in to replace it:

"whistle while you work
hitler had a jerk
mussolini bit his weenie
now it doesn't work!"

thanks for sharing, x. i hope this helps.
doctor cavallo

time for another beauty tip!

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If you have ugly spider veins on your legs or arms, take some hemorrhoid cream and smooth generous amount on, then wrap your legs, or arms in saran wrap for about 2 hours, it helps shrink the skin and will fade the spider veins.

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Now, lemme see.
You like to drink a Heineken & then have sex with lots of cigars...

No wait, you like a cigar after you have sex with your Heineken...

Wait, wait--I've got it!
You like lots of sex with cigars AND Heinekens.
Then you go to a proctologist...



Doc, you better field this one.

blood

Wow... that story had sex, beer and cigars. The only thing it was missing was football.