[DISCLAIMER]: This piece is a satire, and the author is an idiot sometimes. Please don’t take any of this advice seriously — you would be better off trusting your retirement account to Bernie Madoff than listening to A.P.. Also, any similarities between any persons, or events, is purely coincidental. If you take issue with anything that’s said, maybe you should think twice about your shitty personality, and the way you treat other people. Maybe you have a guilty conscience. Asshole.
So, today should be my thirteenth wedding anniversary. I should be toasting to the thirteen years I put into keeping up my end of “till death do us part,” and I should be slipping my dog scraps without my doggymama seeing, and all would be well. Clearly, that’s not the way it’s actually happening. Instead of being bitter, I’ve decided to help other people who are going through similar issues, because I’m a giver.
Continue reading “Ask an Author (with A.P. Miller) – Volume 6: the Wedding Bells Edition”
Without going into too much detail, I’ve been told the family elders aren’t happy that just anyone can marry into the family. They aren’t pointing fingers at me directly, but it’s either me, or my ninth cousin Gustav …and I don’t think he’s coming out of Aunt Hildah’s basement long enough to get married (so they are pointing fingers at me). The family wants the process to become betrothed to the family to be more selective. A representative from the family’s ancestral homeland has sent an edict that our branch of the family must observe the traditions of the old country.
So, for your education, in case you ever plan on marrying one of the Miller Men: the conditions and process of marriage (as dictated by the Miller Family Elders, headquartered in the Old Country).
Continue reading “Satire: Marrying a Miller Man”
June 12, 2020
[NAME OF COMMUNITY & MANAGEMENT COMPANY REDACTED TO SAVE THEM FROM THEIR OWN EMBARRASSMENT]
Re: My Apartment
Dear, Community Manager:
I don’t even know where to begin with you people, I lay awake at night wondering how you people get any sleep yourselves. I have NEVER dealt with a management company like you folks, and I’ve held my silence for WAY too long! My voice WILL be heard! You will no longer silence the masses!
Continue reading “Dear Apartment Community.”
[WARNING]: The following blog is a SATIRE that is designed to entertain and invoke laughter, but may be deemed offensive by some folks. If you are easily offended or have strong opinions that you defend violently, please move along from this post. I’d rather us be friends next week than you be mad at me this week and we never speak again.
If there had been a lawsuit filed by someone who took my advice column seriously, I wouldn’t be able to talk about it. Just like I wouldn’t be able to tell you that such a person got laughed out of the courtroom, and I wouldn’t be able to tell you that their significant other had been winning the “pants off dance off” with everyone other than the Complaintant. Those are details that I have to keep to myself.
Continue reading “Ask an Author (W/ A.P. Miller) – Volume 5”
Little bit of backstory: I was abducted by aliens last week — according to the twenty-six hours of conditioning on their space ship, I am supposed to say “I was invited on an opportunity to explore the Universe.” The way I see it, if the teachers of Moshannon Valley couldn’t get me to pay attention to their rules, the extraterrestrials didn’t have a chance in Ferboflaarb (alien hell).
The actual abduction itself wasn’t that bad. One tractor beam, a steam bath, and a procedure that found all that gum my Mom told me not to swallow, and I was sitting in a room full of books and having food brought to me three times a day! I didn’t have to stumble into my kitchen three or four times, open the fridge several times, and then resolve to just call the pizza guy — the pizza guy came to me and I didn’t have to tip him! The Space Explorers of Planet Vingerglorx 9 (they gave me permission to call them “the Spaceman” after I butchered it enough times) couldn’t comprehend the rural appetite that I had been raised with and so the meals changed a little bit. I asked Jimferglorp (Jim, for short. He hates it) what the new sustenance was — he jokingly replied “It’s a salad, you pack animal!” Jim has been my best friend since I arrived on the ship.
Continue reading “Satire: Hello Mother, Hello Father, Here I am at Camp Gvorbolix.”