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Ask Catrin

March 10, 2015 Leave a comment Go to comments
Catrin Lloyd-Bollard answers all your questions.

Catrin Lloyd-Bollard answers all your questions.

Dear Ms. Catrin,

I don’t know, my son is asking me to build an igloo with him in the backyard. Thing is, there isn’t any snow around. You can’t build a god damn igloo without snow can you? Plus, there’s the clothesline to worry about. It’s unseemly. I don’t know, what should I do?

Fretting Mom
High Lankville Woodlands

Dear Fretting,

This is an excellent opportunity to foster your son’s creativity and imagination. Hold a fun brainstorming session with him. Locate a pad of paper and a large chisel tipped marker. Allow your son to use the marker. This will give him the opportunity to practice his penmanship and organizational skills. Have him write at the top, “Igloos can be made out of any of the following materials:” and then let the creative juices flow! Encourage your son to think “outside of the box.” I have started the list for you, to get you going:

Igloos can be made out of any of the following materials: 1.) Mud 2.) Woven sticks 3.) Tattered clothes stuck together with paste 4.) Poor people hired to shelter you with their bodies 5.) Igloos 6.) Snow 7.) Balloons

Go Team!

Catrin

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Dear Ms. Catrin,

My wife and I eat out in many different places and tipping has always been a great problem for us (we fundamentally don’t believe in it). I thought you might be interested in our solution to this problem.

Now, instead of leaving a tip, we leave a beautiful religious tract. These inspiring spiritual messages are a great force for good and I’m sure they’ve had a wondrous effect on the many waitresses that we have left them for.

It is true, however, that my wife was killed in a challenge. Nevertheless, I will carry on our tradition.

Ken
Special Lankville Fjords

Dear Ken,

There’s a corner store on my block that sells loose cigarettes, three for a dollar. The establishment has no electricity and conducts business by flashlight. The walls are covered with shelves upon shelves of DVD cases, available for rent. The DVDs are arranged haphazardly, with no discernible organizational scheme whatsoever.

I went in for my looseys yesterday and placed four quarters down on the counter. “Three, please,” I said. The shop keep placed an entire unopened back of Lankvoort 100s in front of me. “Thank you,” I said.

An entire pack of Lankvoort 100s for just one dollar — can you imagine that? Now that’s a deal.

Unwittingly yours,
Ms. Catrin

———-

Dear Ms. Catrin,

If a woman marries a widower with children, she then becomes stepmother to the children, right?

What happens if they get divorced and he marries again? Is wife number two still the stepmother or does wife number three become the stepmother? What if both are lost say, in the woods and he marries a fourth woman? Then, I’m guessing, wife number four would definitely be the stepmother. But I’m really confused.

Confused in the Lankville Outer Regions

Dear Confused,

Identity is an ever-flowing, ever-changing performance. Don’t let labels define you. We are all many things: step mother, boating enthusiast, arsonist, collector of plush children’s toys, lactose intolerant. We all can, if we so choose, traverse the infinite length of the identity spectrum throughout our short, unfulfilling lives.

I love you,
Ms. Catrin

———-

Dear Ms. Catrin,

I went camping with a prospective life-partner recently and the tent collapsed. My life-partner didn’t seem too concerned about it, just kept staring at the raging fire and whispering, “Let it alone, let it alone” over and over again. Later, a fervent wind came along and took the tent up into some trees. I had to sleep in the car.

What should I do in the future?

Pat W. Green
Western Pines

Dear Pat,

Murder usually is an effective solution.

Yours,
Ms. Catrin

———-

Dear Ms. Catrin,

Catrin, I never had a date in high school. I remember how out of it I felt when Monday morning would come along and all the other girls were talking about the fun they had at the Coconut House or the Casa Montecristo or the Big Stadium.

Recently, I went to my high school reunion and many of the men that I would have given my eyeteeth to date in high school came up and told me how much they admired me, saying they had been awed by my height (I am 6’8) and athletic ability (I’m really good at Handbats). They said they regretted not asking me for a date and it was their loss!

That made up for all the pain I felt as a teenager. I thought you’d like to know.

Bonnie Patrick-Dean
Showy Northern Suburban Area

Dear Bonnie,

Thank you for sharing. Your wisdom, I believe, will provide some succor to today’s suffering generation of grotesquely-oversized high school girls, lacking in dates, friends and personality. I cannot particularly relate to this problem, as I had so many dates in high school that I couldn’t keep the doctor away. But yes, Bonnie, indeed — sometimes our lot in life does improve with time.

However, ladies, don’t get your hopes up too high. Chances are, you will have to make do with a life-long commitment to your extensive collection of plush children’s toys. Although I have heard that Brian Schropp is single and looking.

Regrettably yours,
Ms. Catrin

———-

Dear Ms. Catrin,

I made a New Year’s Resolution to stop buying balloons but I am finding it harder and harder to refrain. So far, I am hanging in there because I know it’s probably better for me in the long run but still, I am not convinced it is as terrible as people make it out to be. I know some people who are quite old and have been buying balloons since they were 20. What is your opinion on the issue of buying balloons?

Tara Crown-Flowers
The Hills
———-

Dear Tara,

It’s an unpopular opinion, and some may accuse me of enabling — or, even worse, of suffering from addiction myself — but I am of the mind that one cannot buy too many balloons. What better feeling is there than to wake up in the morning to a sunlit bedroom full of glistening balloons? Or, even better, to lay flat on your back, gazing up past the shoulder of your indefatigable lover upon a bedroom ceiling covered in bright, bloated balloons?

And there is nothing quite so magical as a balloon hovering midway between floor and ceiling, having lost just enough of its helium to keep itself suspended in midair, like a humming bird.

Our time on Earth is short, Tara, and one must enjoy with abandon the simple pleasures life has to offer.

Always and forever yours,
Ms. Catrin

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