Ask an Author (with A.P. Miller) – Volume 6: the Wedding Bells Edition

[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

Going to the Chapel, and It’s Going to be Scary.

Dear, A.P.:

My fiance and I are going to be getting married soon, and since I don’t have a dad, I was wondering if there was any advice that you’d give your son if he were getting married. I’m so nervous, and I want to be a great husband!

Sincerely,

GroomingHabits

Dear, GroomingHabits:

A very wise man once told me after my wedding “I have some advice for you: 1). Never get married, 2). Never have kids, and 3). Never have pets. Get a house plant.” Now I can’t tell you why he didn’t give me that advice before the ceremony, but hindsight is twenty-twenty.

Maybe I can give you the gift of perspective: Marriage is betting someone half of everything you own that you’ll love them forever. That is a bet that no one wins, they merely survive. 

If I had a son, I’d probably encourage him to take every paycheck he ever makes to the casino, and bet on drunk people peeing in the parking garage, so that he can’t afford to get married. That’s not a commentary on the institution of marriage, it’s truth, and economical. You’re far better off to know that your money is literally being pissed away, than to put it into something like a house with both of your names on it, only to have some other guy playing rooster in it.

Please enjoy my new philosophy on marriage: Better Dead Than Wed.

-A.P.

Sunrise, Sunset, Bloodbath

Dear, A.P.:

I can tell by reading “Broken Promise Records: Remastered” that you are a big fan of music. My future husband and I are having trouble picking songs for our wedding reception. Can you give us a few recommendations?

Signed,

Guitar Heroine

Dear, Guitar Heroine:

First, thank you very much for reading “Broken Promise Records: Remastered!” Second, I would be honored to offer some recommendations for your wedding reception:

  • “It’s the End of the World (As We Know It)” – R.E.M.
  • “I Hate Everything About You” – 3 Days Grace
  • “Don’t Do It” – The Band
  • “Heaven Knows I’m Miserable Now” – The Smiths
  • “Love Will Tear Us Apart” – Joy Division
  • “These Boots are Made for Walking” – Nancy Sinatra
  • “I Hope You Die” – The Bloodhound Gang
  • “The BreakUp Song” – the Greg Kihn Band
  • “Hurt” – Johnny Cash
  • “Don’t Fear (The Reaper)” – the Blue Oyster Cult
  • “Bye Bye Bye” – N*Sync
  • “Tired of Being Alive” – Danzig

I hope this helps!

-A.P.

Wedding Vows, Suicide Pact — Same Thing.

Dear, A.P.:

I am in trouble and I need your help! See, my future wife wants some real poetic wedding vows, and since you have the gift with words, I was hoping that you could help me! What would you write in my wedding vows?

TillDeathDoUsPart

Dear, Till Death:

You’re asking a complete stranger for help on your wedding vows? Planning on being married forever, aren’tcha?

As an author, I feel compelled to help my readers when they ask for help. I would say that you’d want your vows to be honest, and manageable. Like hair that frizzes when it’s humid. You also want your vows to be contemporary and stylish. Check out my example below:

“I, [ENTER NAME HERE], do solemnly vow to love you when it’s convenient, to occasionally check on you to make sure you aren’t dead, until something better comes along.”

Best of luck on your big day!

-A.P.

And there you have it — I could be bitter, but instead I’ve given guidance in the lives of happy couples.

Until your next trip across the Millerverse!

Satire: Marrying a Miller Man

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”

Dear Apartment Community.

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.”

Ask an Author (W/ A.P. Miller) – Volume 5

[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”

Satire: Hello Mother, Hello Father, Here I am at Camp Gvorbolix.

Dear Readers:

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.”