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Art on a Stick, Drawings and comics by B. Amundson
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Ask Miss Ardor

Dear Miss Ardor,

I am a 22-year-old woman hopelessly in love with Bill, a 25-year-old man, who has told me that he too is in love with me. But our definitions of love do not seem to be the same.

I define being in love as being ready for COMMITMENT. Bill defines love as the good feeling he has after getting his "rocks off."

When I told Bill that I had quit my job to follow him when he leaves soon for a new job on the West Coast, he looked at me with complete horror. That's when we exchanged our definitions of love, and that's why I am heartbroken. Also, I'm without a job. What should I do.

Sincerely, Groveling in Grand Rapids

Dear Grovel: Forget Bill, give your former employer a blow job, and get back to work.

 

Dear Miss Ardor,

I work very hard during the week, sometimes up to 70 or 80 hours. The stress builds all week. On Saturdays when I finally drag myself out of the office at about 6 pm, all hell breaks loose. I drink, I screw, I wake up with bruises in the weirdest places. Please tell me there's more to life than working and screwing, working and screwing, working and screwing...

Regards, More to Life


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Dear More: If you're rich, you can just screw.

 

Dear Miss Ardor,

I am a 37-year-old, divorced, male business executive. I am not lacking in attractive female escorts. Many of these women are quite beautiful, and some are professional models. My problem is that my escorts don't interest me in the least, sex-wise.

Instead, I am bursting at the seams to ravage my cleaning lady, who happens to be immensely fat, more than a few decades my senior, and missing most of her teeth. Just the thought of fondling and kneading those pendulous, stretch-marked mounds drives me wild. It's all I can do to keep from throwing my naked body at her. These steamy thoughts are interfering with my life at work, at the club, everywhere. Please help.

Sign, Exec in Lust

Dear Exec: So what exactly is the problem?

 


Stimulates you both physically and mentally!!!
Dear Miss Ardor,

I recently moved to a new town. As the "new girl" around -- unattached, attractive, and fancy free -- I find many suitors clamoring to my doorstep. These suitors are all vivacious and handsome in their own ways. My problem is that I turn down dates with men whom I have found to have small penises, yet I continue to eagerly accept dates with men who have large members. If a big, dumb oaf with a humungous, prodding pecker gives my phone a jingle, I'm ready in seconds. Is something wrong with me?

New in Town

Dear New: The size of a man's penis and his intelligence do not go hand in hand, as you have discovered. However, a woman can't achieve orgasm with a penis the size of a thumb, for goodness sakes. The orgasm is a little gift from God, and who wants to defy our creator?

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