Welcome, Crazy Aunt Helen

A few Halloween’s ago Stella and Coco were invited to a costume party with the theme “dress as what you used to want to be when you grew up”.  Stella’s earliest ambition was to be a rich lady, an occupation that would combine her twin passions of getting dressed up and lying around all day doing nothing.  For the party she donned a black silk dress, a series of scarves, mountains of costume jewelery and high heels.  She turned and faced the mirror.  Staring back at her was  a once-wealthy bag lady who, having lost all of her assets and most of her sanity wears all her valuables at once in a desperate effort to impress the gilded, twinkling elegance of her former self on passersby.

Through this form speaks the voice of Crazy Aunt Helen, avatar of the dwindled prosperity of generations past.

Now in an attempt to bring this voice to the public, Whateverishly.com  launches our advice column. “ASK AUNT HELEN”.

Dear Aunt  Helen,
How do I get my roommate  to move out without being confrontational?
 I don't want to destroy our friendship but I just can't stand living with her anymore. 

Perturbed, Yakima, WA

Dear Perturbed,

If your roommate’s a Gypsy you should light your house with electric lights and throw away all candles.  Then cut your beard off as everyone knows Gypsies only live with bearded people who spend their nights bathed in the glow of firelight.

You shouldn’t confront her directly because all Gypsies have devil-eyes which will latch on to yours and make you do terrible things!    Like get drunk on peach schnapps and take your clothes off during a Junior League Armistice Day Luncheon just when your mother is about to be honored for her work with the Beleaguered Orphan’s Association. And then your father will scream and shout about finishing school and bathtub gin and the evils of hot-jazz but by that time there’ll be a flask tucked into your thigh-high, and you’ll have shimmied your way down the  bedsheet rope ladder you hung out your bedroom window and you’re halfway to the streetcar!

Fondly,

Aunt Helen