Dear Lost

My question for you is: I have the solid food down, but how can I drink when I'm already underwater?

Sincerely,

Senator O-ring Snatch Dos Prompt, Utah Dear Senator: Use a straw, you idiot. I can't believe all the undeserved trim you Beltway types attract. I don't even like you having a franking privilege.

Dear Lost:

The man I love, he treat me oh-so mean.

I can eat no fat, and he can eat Eileen.

The man I love, he's so fine and mellow,

I asked for water, and he brought me lemon Jell-O.

The man I love, he's—pardon me, but someone's stabbing me, and I can't continue. Hey, stop that! How'd you like it if someone stabbed you? Get away from here! Scat!

I'm sorry, where was I?

Oh, the man I love, he hired an assassin.

Why'd he do that, if you don't mind me askin'?

A Bombed Blonde Shell of Her Former Self Costa Mesa

P.S.: Could you bring some bandages home with you? I've had a hankering for them all afternoon.

Dear Blonde Shell: Sure thing, honey. And I didn't pay that assassin. He owed me some work for my helping with his patio deck, and I couldn't think of anyone else to kill. See you at 6.

Dear Lost:

Why did the werewolf get married on the Internet?

Because he wanted to e-lope.

Lou Guru via e-mail I will not dignify that with an answer, particularly since I wrote it.

Dear Lost:

A bunch of us in our dorm at UC Irvine recently got a hold of some of that "date rape" drug we'd read so much about. We put it in a big punch bowl filled with a drink we call "Sleeping With the Fishes" (it's mostly vodka and guppies), and down the old hatch it went. We all drank it, some 28 of us, men, women and a gecko, and not one of us felt the least bit compromised or ravaged when we woke up the next day, except the gecko, who looked sort of like a naked Strom Thurmond when he came to. What's the big deal?

Ice Cream Jones Irvine