Thursday, February 24, 2011

"Bucking In The Bronx" Experiences Girlfriend Tragedy With Polar Bears

Dear AskTheDudeBlog,


I was at the Bronx zoo having the time of my life with my sweetie Bethy Beth, and we saw the monkey's and they were hooting and screaming and crapping on each other. They had very cute babies that mama monkey's were cradling and singing too in groany monkey voices. Next we went to the reptile exhibit and we saw these mind blowing lizards, and this snake that was bigger than my entire body. I freaked out and so we ran out of the reptile zoo and went to see the polar bears. They had erected a massive fence to keep people out but Bethy Beth loveeeeeeesss Bears!!! They are so cute and love to play in the artificial habitats and swim in the chemical waters that are dyed a fake blue. It's just like the ocean they lived in before they were captured! They must be so happy there. Bethy begged me to get a closer look, so I hoisted her up and flung her into the cage, she squealed "wheeeeee!" and landed on a patch of snow that seemed like real snow from a distance, and she was so happy to see the bear! Then it tried to hug her and she turned around and Mr. Bear had turned her into a bloody lump. It was so awful! I saw her appendages and her viscera! Which is a bit forward for a third date! So my question is about ettiquette. Should I go to the closed casket funeral (as our final date)?


Sincerely,

"Bucking In The Bronx"


AskTheDude: Yea. Thats cool, go for it. As a common verity, never throw a date into the Polar Bear pit on the third date. You're supposed to wait until marriage according to all reliable sources.

Sunday, January 23, 2011

I Married An Abusive Underground Female Fighter. I Need Out, but I'm Scared. "Scared In Seattle"

Askthedudeblog,

This is Scared In Seattle. My wife is a former champion underground fighter. She does circuit fights and has the mastery of many different martial arts. So one day she comes home from the office (emphasis on former), and she noticed that I hadn't dusted the cabinets. She was so angry. She yelled at me, and started clenching and unclenching her fist in my face while grinding her teeth. She told me I was a good for nothing stay at home husband. She told me I better do as she says..."or else". So I pleaded with her to be nice to me, and she drop kicked me in the throat and I fell over backwards and parted a plate glass partition with my body which shattered all over the floor. Their were pieces of the mirrored glass stabbed very deeply into my back. Then she comes over and kicks me in the face so hard I bit off the tip of my tongue, and she puts me in a head lock and slams my face into the marble floor until she has made a line of blood masks. I'm lying there battered, crying out for help uselessly. Then she picks me up and body slams me through a plaster wall which I sail through, but on the other side is an aquariaum full of rare and expensive salt-water fish and aquatic life. I woke up five seconds later and saw all my beautiful aquatic animals dying scattered around with fake rocks, broken glass and fake coral reef. "My fucking octopus!" I screamed at her as she came into the room with an immense fire in her eyes. She drop kicked me in the balls and I coughed up blood. I was lying on the ground writhing staring into my octopus's eyes while it died, its little hook mouth gasping at the horrors of the air that lied around it. She picked me up and pushed me against the wall kneeing me in the stomach. She punched me in the jaw, dislocating it, then took a broom and shove the handle in my mouth, shoving it down my throat, I was choking and my mouth was filling with blood and other fluids, and then she takes the broom and starts spinning it around in beautiful figure eights, like a baton. She let go and the handle dislodged itself from my throat and I crumple up against the wall, breaking a Picasso print on the wall behind me. He was a good painter I groan in a failing breath as she pounces on me and kicks me in the side of the neck. I lose consciousness. I wake up and I'm tied up in a bathtub with bricks covering me and my arms and legs are tied behind my back with piano wire. Shes increases the wattage of the lightbulbs overhead so my eyes feel a dull burn as she slaps me into wakefulness. Horrible, awful wakefulness. She takes out her iPhone and starts taking pics of me and starts Facebooking them to all of her friends. Look at what people are saying she says in a hypocritical voice: A Chorus of lol's are erupting all over her Facebook page, her friends think its hilarious. Especially the pics of me struggling against the bonds that are threatening to drown me. Out of the corner of my eyes I see Plato The Octopus impaled on kitchen utensils on a little black armoire. This disturbs me, until one of her friends points out the time that I bought her chocolates. She immediately forgives me, but then pulls out a pistol and aims at my head and tells me to go to the mall and get her Godiva chocolates. So I spent 75% of a month's salary buying her chocolates which she claims she burns off with her exercise. My face and body is horribly battered and I'm still picking pieces of glass out of my back and buttock. What should I do AskTheDudeBlog?

ScaredInSeattle

AskTheDude: She sounds a bit too violent for you. Never date a woman that can easily overwhelm you, or for that matter enjoys Godiva chocolates. Both are huge red flags. Underground fighting is ok, so long as she can control her anger and physical prowess outside of the ring. If she tries to beat you up again, shake your finger at her. If she breaks your finger, break up with her. Simple really.

Saturday, January 22, 2011

My Girlfriend Found My Inflatable Doll Collection, What should I Do?

Dear AskTheDudeBlogger,

Plz call me "Raging In Australia". I'm a cool dude too, dude, I swear dude. Well my girlfriend found my inflatable doll collection and my website with pics I took of myself with inflatable dolls in awkward positions. She took a steak knife and stabbed Rebeca, Tiff, Stacey, Margie, Beatrice, Natasha, Julia, Latoya, Jen, Emelia, Juanita, Michelle, Stacey and C3PO and tore them all to shreds with her knife!! She poked holes in all of them and hacked off their plastic openings. She has been ranting and raving and smashing dishes and kicking me and banging pots and pans, and throwing furniture through windows, laughing laconically at neighbors, turning off the hot water, and just overall, totally messing with my vibe. What should I do, I am so sad that my inflatable friends are hacked to death. Is their anything I can do to make this betterer?

Sincerely,

Raging In Australia


I'd say dump her. Sounds like she had a few screws loose. Next thing you know, she would have gone after you with a knife. Probably while you are sleeping. Probably would become one of those live in girlfriends that still listens to old new age music, and realizes that their love is a lie, so they murder their lover so that life can make sense again. Thats women for ya these days! And I don't necessarily mean that in the most literal way, dear reader/asker/friend.


AskTheDudeBlog

Friday, January 21, 2011

Shy In Chicago Wants First Date Advise

AskTheDudeBlog,

I'm asking out this girl that I really like and want to know if its appropriate to purchase any gifts for her for our first date. The main conditions are; I don't want to over-spend, I don't want to under-spend and I want to be completely certain that I'm not too forthcoming.

Sincerely,

Shy In Chicago


AskTheDude: Well this is a pleasant change. Depends on the kind of girl she is. Some women expect more or less on a first date, and depending on the dynamic she may be in a stronger position than you. Which could be great of course, I'd go for the one red rose, its cheap and suggestive of the possibility of romance while still being casual enough to not totally creep her out. Once I bought a girl a dozen roses on our first date and she slammed the door in my face and the frame broke the bridge of my nose.

-AskTheDude

Detective From Manhattan Tries To Overcome Fear of Super Models

Dear AskTheDude,

I am a very super important detective. I do lots of detective work and solve bizarre mysteries and stuff. Once I even discovered something very unusual about a case that was very interesting. It involved a very large building, an heiress, seven prostitutes, a golden retriever and a dead civic servant. Can't go into details. Other than it was all the Golden Retrievers fault. Anyways I'm not writing in to brag about my raw excellence, or anything that humble, I'm simply asking you for help with women. I am scared of women. All of them. Especially the pretty ones. Sometimes I have freak out attacks and stuff. Its really weird. When theirs a really bad one I start gnawing on my finger tips, then my eyes dart around, which never seems to impress the ladies. I also always wear Argyle. Argyle everything. Is that a fashion issue? I'm very confused. Well to help you in your quest to help me get luckier getting the pussy, I've included a journal entry that might help you figure out whats wrong with me. Thanks dude, here is the entry and this really happened. If anyone says it didn't happen then they are lying to you. Trust me, I'm a professional detective and have so much integrity that it makes me queasy.


Super Important Male Diary Entry Of The Detective About Detecting and Chicks And Stuff:


I am violently clicking my mouse checking my email for the update on my order of fifty Thailand Servants, which are being shipped to me in moldy crates that will slide and crash around in a large freighter, reminding me of the old saying my grand-papa used to say “Damaged goods are better than no goods”, and I read in the “Gentlemen’s Handbook Of Common Decency And Detective Work And Stuff”, that in order to gain the respect of fellow colleagues you will need exactly fifty mistresses from any foreign country and tons of servants, this is so exciting to me that I forget to check my voicemail from the horrific femme fatale that keeps on flinging clues to me, so I make my way out onto the street shoving people that get into my way, I then accidentally stab a pregnant women with a ball point pen that I usually use to point at mysterious clues while clicking my tongue, she then looks at me with nefarious contempt, as she then decides to hit me in the head with her purse, then she whips out a nasty bottle of pepper spray, which she gently sprinkles into my eyes, this makes me scream, and I start running back and forth, bellowing for no apparent reason, knocking over an elderly couple, and a man wearing a magnificent tuxedo gives me an insidious glare, so I attempt to punch him in the face, hoping he will reveal a clue to the mystery at hand, but instead he sucker bangs me in the back of my head with his leather attaché case, this inspires me to run down a dark alley yelling for more clues to the case, my eyes are still stinging from the pepper spray, and this haughty bag lady leaps out from behind a dumpster and I begin advancing on her and start shaking her shoulders with my detective gloves, she is busy being pugnacious while chewing on wilted lettuce leaves that she pilfered from a dumpster, I ask her who sent her and why she is disguised in soot, she croaks at me, which scares me so badly that I crumple over backwards and fall into a pile of garbage bags and a stray Persian cat hisses at me, meows a warning, this terrifies me even more so I sprint out of the alley, and now I’m on Madison Avenue, so I brush off my ten thousand dollar suit purchased from the English clothier Oxxford, custom tailored to my sub-mediocre frame, and I start shoving through the crowd again, and this time I think I accidentally kicked a baby carriage over, a woman screams, a baby is crying, I’m laughing because she did not have any of the clues to the mystery, and I continue onwards until I come across a lovely pulchritude of a super model, whom I suspect may be preparing to depredate a plot on my very life, so I pull out my semi-automatic pistol and fire warning shots into the air, people are screaming, leaping through windows, ducking, escapers in revolving doors are pushing in different directions and are not getting anywhere, and impressed by my masculine prowess, the super model slips me her cell phone number, and I respond by fainting and I look up, but she vanishes into a boutique before I could say anything suave, so I jog down to Central Park to meet the man that might be a mole, near the Pond, I arrive and ask him what happened and he tells me that two German assassins were thrown off the top of the Statue of Liberty, and this upsets me, so I shoot two swans, which causes a field trip worth of children to burst out crying, and then he tells me that animal cruelty is immoral so I nod solemnly and apologize, and he tells me about how the German’s have invented a WMD that is undetectable and fits inside a wrist watch, and he explains that we need to find out who is behind everything, so I ask him about the possibility that my Russian servants might become slovenly, that maybe the bag lady was in on it, that the super model is luring me into a odious femme fatale trap, and I squint at him in a magnifying glass, he blinks, this is a cue that he is working for the German’s, so I shoot him in the face and make my heroic escape, thinking all the while of my magnificent super model concubine to be. 

What do you make of this AskTheDude?


AskTheDudeBlog: You should...give her a call. I hope that thing with the homeless woman and the...um German guy that you shot in the face? Doesn't interfere with your love life. Also terrorizing small children by murdering beautiful animals isn't a good way to impress women, and you seem pathological but I'm not entirely certain of that. Anyways good luck detective, if thats what you really are. Also attacking the homeless for "clues" seldom procures any true results. You would be better off...doing something that require less...intensive thinking. So, um yea.

Thursday, January 20, 2011

"Thrashing In Cincinnati" Goes Into Epic Rage About Silver League and Tries to Fix His Relationship.

AskTheDudeBlog,


You have done me well in helping me share my Starcraft II divorce story with the world. I moved out of the hotel. The prostitutes were asking for more and more money just for little compliments, like ten dollars for each time I was clicking the mouse, and fifty dollars when they were acting impressed that I had the ability to stare at the computer screen and look at things and type. My favorite was when they went oooh and aaah when I took a shower. The best part by far was when they reminded me of boobs which helped me remember who I truly am. Then I decided to make amends with my wife and kids. Here is what happened and I do need more relationship advice because I am in a tight spot and can't stop thinking of my wife's tits;

I show up at our house and go in with my laptop. I plug it in to play the Starcraft 2, I am a champion in Silver League and when I lose I rage and punch holes in the wall and say mean things on the internet to random strangers. Sometimes I even unplug my computer to get revenge against them. So I was trying to set up my internet connection when I realized my wife had changed the password. Then I hear hissing. It's my daughter and she has a pack of a dozen rotten eggs. She starts whipping them at my head. She is a pitcher on her little league team so she can throw them right in my mouth, egg shell and all. I reel over and start swallowing the raw eggs which makes my head swim and the egg shells taste like I swallowed jagged rocks. I tell her to stop so she does and then she goes and plays with her dolls. Then I'm laying there on the ground covered in egg stuff, while my computer game base gets over run by space aliens, and my son comes in and says: "Sorry Dad, but mom said you aren't supposed to be here!" So I'm like WTF, and show him some dad attitude, and he takes out a base ball bat and swings it breaking my knuckles when I try to stop him. I scream, and he says dad I'm sick of playing games with you. You always Zergling rush me like a little internet newbie! He screams in his familiar but horrifying voice. I duck from the room and he swings, smashing my monitor which ignites a tiny fire that spreads onto the bed sheets. I cry out as I watch my Starcraft II score go up in flames and explode! My son is screaming and chasing me with the baseball bat which somehow caught on fire during the explosion and he is yelling at me and calling me a "bad dad" and I run and hide in my wife's closet, to my horror the dead Cat, Mittens Carlyle is hanging from a noose (even though she was only drowned) next to my wife's mink stoll, which I bought her for her birthday before she tanked and became a morbidly obese and semi-deranged television watcher, even though I wanted her to try Malibu Tom's exercise regime. I try to hold back the yell but I can't help it and my son is spreading the fire everywhere, so I leap out of the closet and he shouts: "NO MORE MASS MULES AND MARINES!" I do a flip through the air and apparently several beams supporting the up stairs had been so badly burnt that my force causes the whole thing to collapse and so I'm tumbling through the thick smoke and  broken shell of a house full of flammable materials until I land on the carpet and break my ankle and I can see my daughter through the smoke and shes throwing her toys at me from a burning window and as they sail through the flames the plastic starts to melt and this scalds me, scarring my face and body, leaving me deformed as I crawl out of my burning house.

So I get out of the house and notice that my wife is in her BMW with her Lawyer and they are fucking like wild animals. Her top is off and her tits are pressed up against the driver's side front seat window and they pump against the windows with an intense consistency. It's so cold out that her nipples are engorged, and I'm laying there covered in melted plastic, burn wounds, a broken ankle and an emaciated soul, and thats when the house caves in on itself. I hear the wailing of my daughter and the snapping noise of her built to scale dream mansion exploding in her room. I turn back to the car, my wife's tits on the window a distraction from the terrors happening around me. Her infidelity seems insignificant as the pain breaks across the threshold that it's never mean't to surpass. I lurch up on my broken ankle. The Lawyer and my wife seeing me causes them to start really freaking out, and he leaps out of the car struggling with his pants to get them up, my lazy wife keeps on pushing her tits against the cold window, because thats all women think about. The Lawyer bellows "The house is on fire!" Then he dramatically whips his iPhone out of his pocket and starts haranguing a nine one one operator, wasting precious time of course, so I pull out my semi-auto I had concealed in my pocket and start firing wildly in his general direction. The sound of gun fire excites my wife so she starts tit pumping the icy window faster, and one of the bullets hits the Lawyer's temple and part of his frontal lobe evacuates onto the grill of his BMW, the nine one one operator shouting into the receiver has obviously become hysterical, the shrill voice pluming outwards into the dead smoke. I crawl towards the car to see my wife again, when out of the fringe of the flames my son runs shrieking at me with his baseball bat. His body is riddled with third degree burns and he has one thing on his mind: putting me out of my misery. He runs at me and the agony gets so severe, the melted plastic is singeing me to the bone that I throw my gun at my son hoping that it will knock him out. Instead he catches it backwards, his finger smoothly latching into the trigger as it fires blasting vast clumps of third degree burnt flesh in three dimensional archs that look fancy and disgusting and I'm passingout in the snow watching the thrashing of my wife's tits on the window who still hasn't seemed to notice whats going on.

Then I woke up in a hospital and they let me go. My house was in ruins. My children were dead. My daughter scalded by heaps of melted plastic toys made in China. My son had accidentally self-executed himself after becoming hideously deformed by the house fire. My wife was so distracted by her own tits that she didn't even notice the BMW catch fire and explode. All that was left was the plastic silicone of her tit implants and bot-ox resin dripping down into the gutter near the end of the drive way where my house used to exist. So here I am at an internet caffe, asking you TheDude, what the fuck happened to my life? After two destroyed computers I still can't get into Gold League in Starcraft II. How do I meet new women and get better at computer games where I get to shoot massive space ships and do things and stuff while getting laid at the same time?

Sincerest Regards,

Thrashing In Cincinatti

AskTheDudeBlog: Thats a very tragic outcome. I'd like all readers to think about his tale of woe so we can all learn to become better, more reasonable people as a result of this calamity. It is atrocious what you did, and you deserve nothing but scorn and ridicule for your poor discretions. I'm not one to toot the horn of the hate train, but your life is a disaster, the inspirational kind that informs people, morally, ethically and socially. Hopefully you will find some meaning in your life after everyone died, and that you get better at your computer game so you can get into Gold League. Wishing all the best, as their is basically no real advise I can give to a person as foolish as you.

AskTheDudeBlog

Tuesday, January 18, 2011

Hospital Director Is Lonely While He Starts "Maniac Babies For Combat Zones Project"

Hello AskTheDude you are a inspiration too all us lonely hearts out there wandering around in the wilderness of the dating scenes. I am a doctor and am very rich. I am so lonely! I want to meet a woman that loves me and respects me for my career decisions. Someone once told me that I certainly sometimes smile. I also drive a Ferrari and have very prestigious degrees. Last Fall I started a new project for the US government. I started a hospital for pregnant women that were bribed into not getting abortions so they could donate their new born babies to a dangerous science project. It is code named Maniac Babies For Combat Zones Project. I take newborns and raise them in natural habitats with dangerous jungle animals. Poisonous spiders, frogs that secrete neuro-toxins and dangerous jungle cougars. Only the strong babies survive.

The babies that survive the jungle habitat go to babies first nursery. I connect electrodes to carousels so when baby wants to play they get a shock thats so severe that it temporarily shuts down their central nervous system! After awhile the babies start too gain impairments and unusual physical strength. I put a kitten in with the babies after I used Chinese Water Torture for several weeks, and the babies ate the kittens. I had to call a paramedic due to indigestion related to internal hemorrhaging caused by the spines of the cats. My associate takes a cat-o-nine tails and whips the babies until they are in a frenzy. During the Maniac Frenzy, the babies take off their diapers and attack each other. Sometimes the babies kill each other, which helps weed out the strongest maniac babies, fit for deployment in war zones. Several generals have stopped by for supervisory reasons. They were impressed with several of the Maniac Combat Babies, so they lovingly adopted them for suicide missions for a covert operation to overthrow the dictator of North Korea. I love my babies! I started bringing in apes and the babies show a lot of improvement. A one year old Maniac Baby now has the viciousness to kill three apes in under one hour, all while crawling around conspicuously while saying codewords like gaga goo goo. My very best of all Maniac Baby's killed a trained Navy Seal with her bare hands. So AskTheDude I want the women to know that I am very conservative and save babies from abortion and turn them into lethal killing machines. It is my patriotic duty to commit myself to ethical science. So I'm looking for a woman that is preferably Ivy League educated, and has giant perky tits. I promise that our children will not be exposed to the "Maniac Babies For Combat Zones Project."


Yours truly,

Cultivated In California


AskTheDudeBlog: Sounds like you are up to some ethically complex militarist science. I wish you the best of luck in your research! So glad that you save the lives of so many innocent children, children that will be raised to be the strongest and most patriotic soldiers. You must realize that women may be turned off by your career because it might confuse them or scare them. Also priding yourself on the occasional smile does not exude enough confidence. Also asking for intelligence and tits in the same woman is a contradiction in desire. Wish you the best, and I hope your experiments never get dangerously out of control, and that you find the love of your life and settle down and have a perfect family life where everyone is happy and the world is at peace. You will find that you may find a woman simply by taking up conversation with her, preferably somewhere far removed from the Maniac Baby Combat training zone of your hospital.

Best- AskTheDude