Dear Frannie,
I’m so bored that I’m writing to you. Just thought you could help.
From, Rachel in Rye
Dear Rachel,
Why don’t you draw a crappy picture of yourself with cleavage and use it as the logo for a web site where you can give mediocre advice on topics you know nothing about.
Be well, Frannie
Dear Frannie,
My boss is a huge executive who makes hundreds of thousands a year. He doesn’t seem to realize that the regular working stiff may not have a credit card to order tickets online. How do I open his eyes to the fact that not everyone leads such a charmed life?
Thanks, Ticketgirl
Dear Ticketgirl,
I have learned after many years of dealing with rich, hairy knuckled, white, bald, gout battling male bosses that two little words are the key to unlimited use of his Platinum Visa: lap dance.
Always, Frannie
Dear Frannie,
Why do they call it a blow job? I do not believe it is a job, but a calling.
Taco Bill
Dear Taco Bill,
If you don’t believe that giving head is a job, then you have never had a johnson in your mouth.
Yours, Frannie
