Dear Abby,

Recently I took my daughter to the pharmacy to get some medication she needed. While we were there a woman came up to my stroller and looked in at, ahem, “Maggie,” and smiled from ear to ear. She then said, “Oh my Goodness! You’re baby is so, so…”

I nodded, smug, and thought about how how my baby is “so, so…perfect,” “so, so…beautiful,” even “so,so…transcendant.” 

She then said, “so, so…tiny.”

I thought, “The fuck, bitch? That was totally rude! She was a preemie and still spits up a lot! And maybe there was a week I didn’t feed her enough!”

I’m sorry, Abby. I hope that language wasn’t too harsh. I simply wish to express to you how I wanted to kill the whore…bitch…whatever term you deem printable. (By the way, Abby, I love your work. I don’t know where you find these freaks who write in to you! Of course if you print this I guess I’m one of those freaks. Now I’m not so sure I want you to print this. I do want your advice though. Shit. This is also way too many sentences to put between parenthesis, isn’t it? Your editor probably won’t even print this on account of all the editing work he’d have to do. And if it is a woman editor she’s now likely offended by my chauvanistic assumption. Crap!)


The real reason I’m writing, Dear Abby, is because of what happened shortly after the incident with the thoughtless fucking whore or bitch. (Again please use whichever term you deem printable. If, however, the word “cunt” is printable it is preferable to the other two, but somehow I doubt that it is. That’s what she was though if we really are going to get down to business here. Perhaps you could refer to her as that “See You Next Tuesday” Lady. Your readers would likely find that amusing, and it would get across my feelings about that fucking whore/bitch…or cunt, if printable.)

So, to the issue at hand. I was told by the pharmacist that it would be a short wait, so I took a seat next to another woman who also took an interest in “Maggie.” By the way, Abby, how many words is your column? Because I’m at 318 already and haven’t even got to what I was writing about. You’re totally going to just throw this in the trash, aren’t you? Well, if that’s the case screw you, Abby! Where do you get off thinking you can tell everyone what to do anyway?!

Sorry, Abby. I really am a fan actually. In fact I read your colum every day and truly want your advice about this woman (not the fucking whore/bitch…or cunt if printable…but the other one. Again, please excuse my language if it offends, Abby.)

Anyway, as I was waiting for the medication to be ready (not mine, my daughter’s. You’re totally thinking I need meds though, aren’t you? I realize this letter may have gone off the rails and made me seem a little crazy, but I was there for Maddie’s meds, not mine. Shit! I mean “Maggie’s” meds. Now you know my kid’s name! If you print her real name, so help you, Abby, I will hunt you down like the dog you are, you “See You Next Tuesday,” and rip you to shreds! Of course, if you never intended to print her real name I feel really bad and have no intention to kill you. And shit, this is again way too many words to put between parenthesis.)

So on to the question. The lady next to me (you know which one, right?) looked at my daughter and asked if she could hold her. I peered at this woman, who actually looked like a nice old lady, but let’s face it, she was at the the pharmacy, so God knows what she may have…scurvy, herpes, polio….who knows? And when the best option is scurvy you know you’re in trouble, so I told her she could not hold my baby. (Here’s a suggestion: print this letter in two parts! I realize it is getting kind of long and I don’t take well to my writing being edited. I’m not saying I would hunt you and your editor down if you edit it, but, well, I guess I am. And I’m large. I could totally hurt an old lady like you. So don’t edit this. But do print it in full or risk my wrath. Thanks, Abby!) Anyway, the lady glared at me and walked away like I had totally insulted her. Was I wrong to not let her hold my baby? It seemed weird, and my baby isn’t so healthy to start with, but maybe I was being an ass.

Please help me, Abby!


Confused in Los Angeles

NOTE: I sent this letter in to Abby but…as awesome as it is…I worry it might not be printed. So I’d really appreciate it if you out there in internet land could give me advice on this question on the off chance Abby doesn’t print this (though she totally will…won’t she?)