AUNTIE FUCKING BRYAN YOU SHITHEAD


A while ago, there was an Internet advice column started on LiveJournal. I'm not saying who started it, or who maintains it. I'm simply the channel these days. I will present it in its original form, from beginning to present. The body of work shall speak for itself. Enjoy, and please ASK AUNTIE BRYAN A QUESTION.
Auntie Bryan's History On A Linear Timescale. Shut up, you fuckers:


25 August 2000 - 11:35 am - In The Beginning...
 Bryan Middleton says:

Auntie suggested I whip up a little background on the advice column. And as Auntie is completely computer illiterate, and no longer has arms, here goes. I have no idea how this thing started. Well, that's not true. I do. My friend Tim Holland sent me an email that, while not formed as a question, I felt needed a little advice. Hell, I'm no good at giving pointers in life, so I thought I'd consult my good friend, worst enemy, lover, and employer... Auntie Bryan. It worked so well that others began sending in their questions, and well, now, frankly it's getting out of hand.

I... I'd stop helping Auntie do this evil, evil deed, but Auntie would have me killed. If anyone can help me out of this hell, please let me know.

*sigh*

Here, in it's original unedited form, is the first email, along with some pointers and ground rules Auntie has laid out. I wish you all good luck and good health. Pray for me.

Bryan Middleton

> ----- Original Message -----
> From: "Tim Holland"
> To: "bryan"
> Sent: Wednesday, August 23, 2000 12:55 PM
>
> Sometimes when I go into the bathroom holding a cup I feel like I'm
> supposed to be giving a urine sample. Then when I walk out of the
> bathroom with a cup I think that other people think I just filled
> the cup up with pee.
----- Auntie Bryan responds: ----

You should bring 6 identical cups with lids to work, and always take one with you to the bathroom. Fill one of them with urine, and the others with lemonade, then put them back on your desk, and have someone switch them around on your desk.

The minute you drink out of the cup with the piss, I guarantee you wont be going to the bathroom with a cup anymore.

Anything else?
Auntie Bryan
-------------------------

M'kay?
M'kay.
TOP OF PAGE

25 August 2000 - 11:42 am - Pesky Wax Stains
 >----Tim Holland wrote:----
>
>how do i get wax stains out of my carpet?

----Bryan Middleton responded----

Well, Tim I'm glad you asked. Me and the Mrs. were discussing this the other day after one of our monthly cocktail parties degraded into a depraved heavy BDSM session, and our new Dupont Bonavell carpet ended up being soaked in wine, blood, cum, tears, and - most annoying - WAX.

After using some Fabreeze and good ol' fashioned elbow grease on the majority of those ground in stains, our carpet was looking good as new, but those pesky wax stains just wouldn't budge. I consulted our neighbor, Mr. Wheezey, on the subject, but he wasn't much help.

You see, Mr. Wheezey suffers from an advanced brain disorder that combines stuttering with megalomanical word association. His wife told me he was trying to write an oratory explanation of his travels across the Midwest, one which would capture Americana in all of its elusive glory. But unfortunately, due to his massive speech impediment, the only thing he had come up with so far was the following:

"corn corn corn corn corn corn Stuckey's corn corn corn corn Stuckey's!"

I was nonplussed, to say the least.

However, thanks to the suggestions of other readers, we've got two solutions which may fix your wagon:

1. This is a tried and true method for getting wax out of carpets, bedspreads, sheets, clothing, or whatever your wax may wander end up dirtying. Get some paper bags from your local grocery store and tear them up into 2' squares. Put the pieces over the wax stains, and run an iron set to medium-low heat over the paper. The iron heats up the wax, and the paper bag acts like a sponge to soak up the wax! It's magic! Be sure not to let the iron get too hot or it may burn your carpet, and make sure to regularly change the pieces of paper so your iron doesn't get all mucked up.

2. This solution, sent into us by PigFucker from Madison, WI, is a little less orthodox, but it sure seems to get the job done. PigFucker rites:

"Hey Bryan - you FUCKING COCKSUCKER!! You still owe me BIG fucking dollars for that kilo of bolivian blow, and times up DICKWAD!!! I'll be showing up at your house pretty soon with a loaded shotgun... be ready to BEND OVER! Oh... as for your wax stains: after I BURN YOUR FUCKING HOUSE DOWN AROUND YOU, they shouldn't be much bother."

Touche!

Until next time, remember to clean your needles using colorsafe bleach ONLY!

Ta ta,
Auntie Bryan

Feel free to write in with your questions.
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25 August 2000 - 11:45 am - Kittie Hairballs
 >----- Original Message -----
>From: Killarney
>To: Auntie Bryan
>Sent: Wednesday, August 23, 2000 2:44 PM
>Subject: Household Questions
>
> What's a good solution for hairballs? My poor
> cats are coughing their guts out.

Hi Killarney!

Long time listener, first time caller! Glad to see you on board the goodie mob train.

Now, as a long time cat owner myself, I can sympathize with your poor pussy's problem. Hairballs, as you may already know, are caused by your neurotic cat's Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder, forcing him to think that he's JUST NOT CLEAN ENOUGH! So he licks, licks, and licks some more until he wee stomach is full of enough hair to choke Farrah Fawcett. This in turn causes a process called reverse peristalsis, in which your cat's esophagus and stomach muscles do a little cha-cha bringing the hair back up in these little capsules of funk... affectionately called hairballs. They are at once gooey, sticky, icky, and generally gross.

However!

They do make great party favors!

My advice: lock your cat in a cigar humidor and crank the humidity up to 95%. This will turn your lil' furry beast into a Hairball Ma-CHINE! Collect all of these "nuggets of joy", and, at your next dimly-lit cocktail party, serve them up on a tray mixed in with the cocktail weiners.

This will make a little "reverse peristalsis" of your own, and is sure to make you a hit with all the swingers.

Hockin' Hair for Jesus,
Auntie Bryan

What can Auntie do for YOU? Ask and ye shall receive.
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25 August 2000 - 11:49 am - Linoleum Schmeeoleum
 >----- Original Message -----
>From: "Killarney"
>To: "Auntie Bryan"
>Subject: Household Questions
>
>
> What's a good cleaning solution for my linoleum?

Dearest Killarney,

Two in one day! It must be a busy spring cleaning day for you. Might I suggest picking up a few small Filipino boys the next time you take on a project of this magnitude? M'kay?

I digress.

Cleaning your linoleum. Here's a recipe handed down to me by Ol' Grandma Bryan that's sure to do the trick.

In a 5 quart paint bucket, mix the following (in order):

4 cups bleach (not the colorsafe kind, just good ol' fashioned bleach)
1/2 cup Pine-Sol brand cleaner
3 cups ammonia
2 pounds ammonia nitrate crystals (extracted from a high Nitrite content fertilizer)
2 cups kerosene
7 cups deisel fuel

In a small glass pipe, smoke the following:

3 grams PCP

As you probably noticed, when you added the ammonia to the bucket, a chemical reaction occured called entropy. This is when the bleach oxygenated the ammonia and Pine-Sol causing a large cloud of toxic clorine gas to appear. If you haven't passed out by this time, then pat yourself on the back... you're a PARTY ANIMAL! Continue mixing the other ingredients, and while stiring the evil brew, smoke the angel dust (this is tricky, but easy with a little practice).

After you're thoroughly dusted to the FREEKIN' EYEBALLS, crank up some Foghat on the 8-track, and liberally apply the toxic mess to your linoleum flooring. You may notice that the flooring is quickly being eaten away by the mixture, but this is not so! It's a clever little hallucination caused by our good buddy PCP.

Now, once you've used the whole bucket worth, write a letter to that BITCH WIFE of yours telling her that you're fixing her life ONCE and FOR ALL. Light a match, and while screaming the chorus to "Freebird", blow the whole fuckin' joint.

Rock on, croutons,
Auntie Bryan

Satisfied? No? Fine. Tell Auntie about it.
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25 August 2000 - 11:51 am - Water Stained Furniture
 >----- Original Message -----
>From: Killarney
>To: Auntie Bryan
>
> I recently had a get-together and a guest left a beer bottle on my antique
> wooden coffee table. How do I remove the water stain that resulted from
> the condensation?

Dear Water Stained In Washington,

The messy houseguest. There simply is NO excuse for such barbaric behaviour in today's world. It frankly disgusts me.

To THINK that someone would just come in to your livingroom, in YOUR house, INVITED, and leave a beer bottle on your wooden table... WITHOUT A COASTER!! The very thought of it fills me with such rage and spite! OOOH!!! I just want to HURT THEM! To make them PAY for such disrespect!

Killarney, you must tell me where this "guest" lives. He and Auntie are going to have a little "chat", see... he's going to learn the value of using coasters. Oh yes. He will FEEL the message.

Wild Eyed And Throbbing,
Auntie Bryan

p.s. About the table? Toss it. Get plastic furniture. No biggie.

Auntie cares. Really.
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25 August 2000 - 11:55 am - Somebody Has A Cough.
 >----- Original Message -----
>From: Patrick McFadden
>To: Auntie Bryan
>
> what is a quick and easy way to cure a cough?
>
> Patrick McFadden

Patrick,

Does my widdle Patty-waddy have a koffee-cough?

Oooh... shnookums. Let Auntie Bryan take care of you.

While preventing coughs is usually hard to do while living in the city, where one is exposed to the germs of the general populous... with their dirty hands and filthy thoughts and disgusting, perverted sex organs!! ...must.... WASH .... myself!

*ahem*

Yes, now, while getting a cough can be unavoidable, taking care of it is usually a matter of medicating yourself and staying away from certain stimuli which can agitate the throat. For medication I would recommend one of the following:

Robotussin DM
Robotussin DM
Robotussin DM
Bourbon (all types)
Robotussin DM
A healthy heroin habit (because, really, what else matters at that point?)
Robotussin DM

And, remember to pick up some Robotussin for Auntie, won't you? Oh, the things I've seen while in the grips of a Robo-trip.... sweet, sweet nectar.

Now, there are certain things you should avoid as they will do nothing but cause you more coughing and more grief:

smoking cigarettes
smoking crack
smoking pcp
smoking tailpipes
running marathons
prize-fighting
questing for the holy grail
fucking with Auntie Bryan (hoo-boy, you had better believe it)
spicy foods
spicy women
getting hit by a bus

Finally, I have a tip for helping soothe your sore throat. One that may have already occured to you... I mean, c'mon Patrick MCFADDEN. That's Scottish, right? One too many long nights with nothing but the sheep to keep you company, eh? Just what IS under that kilt, Ol' Patty?

That's right. You can cure that cough with the soothing power of fellatio, my good man. Need some pointers? You know where to find me, cutie-pie.

Big Kizzzes,
Auntie Bryan

---- anything Auntie can do for you? Just ask.
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25 August 2000 - 5:13 pm - Furniture Incest
 >--- Original Message: ---
>From: Brandy Fortune
>To: Auntie Bryan
>
> What's the strangest contraption one can make from household appliances
> and furniture?
>
> -b

Hello Brandy,

Before I get to your question, I just need to say (on behalf of the sailors):

Brandy, you're a fine girl. What a good wife you would be (such a fiiiiine girl).

Great. Now that we've got that out of the way, you sound like you're quite the domestic engineer! Sort of a Martha Stewart meets Andy Warhol meets Christo gig, huh? How exCITING!

As I've done quite a bit of creative interior design myself (honey, let's not even TALK about the logistical nightmare of installing a combination mud wrestling pit / iron maiden in the dining room), I might have some pointers for you. There is no one answer for your question of "the strangest" contraption, as personal tastes may vary (but you'll never have MY exquisite taste, sweet thing), but give these a shot:
I Tripped Over The Ottoman, One Too Many Times,
Auntie Bryan

Auntie Bryan Furniture Sales. Inquire Within. TOP OF PAGE

29 August 2000 - 11:51 am - Celebrity (?) Lives, Dirty Secrets
 >----- Original Message -----
>From: Danny
>To: Auntie Bryan
>
> Auntie Bryan....
>
> I need to get out some nasty urine stains. And i mean nasty...
>
> Thanks!
> Danny

Dear Mr. Bonaduce,

Danny! Danny! I'm one of your biggest fans! Did you think Auntie had forgotten about you? Of course not. Auntie loves celebrities.

Now, the issue at hand. Nasty urine stains? Danny Boneduce? *tsk tsk*

How the mighty hath fallen.

I remember feeling a special sort of maternal instinct around 1970 as you graced my livingroom as little Danny Partridge. But, alas, child stardom has it's seedy underside. Perhaps the beginning of the end was the movie H.O.T.S. in 1979. Though I'll bet you wanted to forget that chapter in your life, Auntie never forgets. Urine stains. Having one too many wild parties with impressionable young starlets, Danny? Hmm??? ANSWER ME!!

Well. Enjoy the highlife while it lasts Bonaduce-san. It can't be hookers and blow forever.

In the meantime: Urine stains? Act like every other piss freak, and put down a fuckin' tarp next time, chump.

Sweet Golden Dreams,
Auntie Bryan

Can Auntie Bryan help you with bodily functions?
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13 December 2000 - 2:41 am - Ouija Boards, Casarsa, Pain Killers, and A Ghost. (or: How I Learned To Stop Worrying And Start Loving The Dead)
 Bryan Middleton writes:

This is a hard thing to put down. It's a tragedy and a wonderful new beginning all at once. Bear with me.

I regret to inform many of you that Auntie Bryan died a short while ago. Auntie decided the pain of living with the knowledge of the universe was too much to handle. A flight was booked to Hawaii, and Auntie jumped into Mount Kilauea's fiery plume. A fitting end to one who lived so brightly. I was informed by Hawaiian authorities, and a great sadness overshadowed my life.

However, a short while later, I received a letter form Auntie, postmarked from Maui a short time before her death. Auntie explained a great many thing to me, most of which I can't repeat here. They are not for you. The closing of the letter stuck with me, though. It reads as follows:
Bryan, know this. I have always loved you. You were my Alpha and my Omega. My Sigfried and my Roy. You were the Eddie Murphy to my Arsenio. You completed me. But there was always something holding us back from each other. Was it my age? My indeterminate gender? My overbearing tendency to wrestle new acquaintances? *sigh* Our love was never meant to be on the physical plane.

But I am not gone forever. When the time is right, you shall know I am with you.

'Til then,

Auntie Bryan
It chilled me to the bone. However, I moved on with my life. But I noticed that after a long night of partying, I would have the strangest recurring dream. I would picture a strange meadow full of beautiful poppies. The sun was setting, a gentle sweet breeze would be in the air. It was a beautiful warm summer evening. Then dark storm clouds would gather ominously. Horribly loud 70's acid-rock would start blaring from unknown sources. And like Jehu on his chariot, a 1977 Cadillac Brougham would appear on the horizon.... bright red, doing at least 110, on fire, out of control. And behind the wheel... was Auntie. Sucking obscenely at a fifth of Jack Daniel's, and doing lines off the dashboard. (I have to give it to Auntie, however... that much control in a car swerving that wildly? Skillz.)

She aimed that beast right at me, mowing down both flora and fauna in a single minded quest to take my white ass OUT. Terrifying. I was running and dodging, but she was using every iota of the standard power steering on that GM masterpiece to keep on me like stink on gym socks.

I tripped over a branch on the ground and fell, unable to get up. (I dislocated my kneecap in the dream, but let's not get into THAT again.) I was writhing in pain, and began to accept my fate as the headlights grew larger in my eyes. But Auntie slammed on the brakes. She stopped that beast just in front of my crippled form. I could taste the burning brake pads and the sweet smell of a near-death experience. Auntie climbed out of the Caddy, and came over to me... a look of love and pity gracing his/her face.

Auntie picked me up and cradled me like a newborn. The whisper that I heard filled me with such sweet sorrow and longing.

"Bryan... I am still here. I will always love you. Whenever you want to see me, just mix the right ingredients. You will feel no pain. You will be whole."

I'd wake up fulfilled and happy. Yet so sad that it was only a dream. But I thought about what Auntie said... "mix the right ingredients"... "you will feel no pain". As I picked up my Vicodin prescription last week for my dislocated knee, it all made sense. Auntie was a RAVING PILL FREAK AND ALCOHOLIC! Of course! That night, I went home and started in on a fifth of Maker's Mark, and a few Vicodin. (Disclaimer: DON'T TRY THIS AT HOME KIDS. I AM A TRAINED PROFESSIONAL. OK, I'M REALLY JUST AN IDIOT AND CARRY THINGS WAAAY TOO FAR. BUT STILL, DON'T DO IT. NANCY REAGAN WAS RIGHT. REALLY.) I was just kicking around the ol' house, getting kinda silly. I was about to give up, disappointed. But then... there it was. A voice in my head. A familiar, wonderful voice.

"Bryan... Bryan... It's me. It's Auntie. Now START TAKING NOTES! WE HAVE QUESTIONS TO ANSWER!"

*ahem*

Yes, ladies and gentlemen. Auntie is back. Auntie is now (apparently) a part of my soul, and can influence my actions. Heh. Pssht, yeah, I'm SO not okay with that. But it's Auntie, wtf am *I* gonna do?

There's a bit of a backlog, all questions will be answered in chronological order, and (in fairness to others) if you sent more than one email question you get one response before I move on. Auntie promises to get to ALL of your questions in time, however. And all the original rules and disclaimers still apply, blah blah blah.

But it's true:

Auntie Bryan's Advice Column is back in business.

The first questions/answers will follow this post.

So, without further ado...

How can Auntie Bryan help YOU? TOP OF PAGE

13 December 2000 - 2:43 am - Smelly Cigars and Those Darn Cats!
 >----- Original Message -----
>From: Killarney
>To: Auntie Bryan
>Sent: Thursday, August 24, 2000 3:03 PM
>Subject: AUNTIE BRYAN ANSWER MAH QUESTION
>
> How does one get rid of nasty odors, like cigarette/cigar smoke and pet
> smells?

Killarney, my dear. It's been so long. How's that nasty case of Tourette's coming along? Still barking like a PCP-addled Doberman at the neighbors are we? Mm-kay, then.

Now. Nasty odors are always such a matter of great discussion on the topic of household etiquette. Nothing concerns a conscientious house guest more than the lingering smell of a soggy Benson & Hedges, or a litterbox full of poopy logs. It's a real conversation killer.

I had the same problems, and I tried everything, really. Lysol, incense, burning Patchouli oil (Oh Christ. DO NOT go there. My house smelled like the seedier parts of Eugene, OR after hemp fest for weeks. I seriously had convulsions upon seeing tie-dye or hearing Dave Matthews for a long, long time. Wait, I still have convulsions under those same conditions. Time to start carrying a gun. But, I digress.) I exhausted all of my options, and was at my wit's end. Something needed to give.

My solution?

I sewed my mouth shut so I was unable to smoke. (Being fed through a tube isn't that bad after you get used to it.)

and

I turned my cats into a throw rug. It's precious really. I could give you some tips on skinning your cat. It's tricky, but will be a valuable skill once after the Atomic Wars come and the Earth is a lawless wasteland inhabited by flesh-eating mutants. You'll see.

Stay away from my shed. Shoo, really.


Lovely!

Auntie Bryan


Need more housepet macrame tips? Auntie delivers.
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13 December 2000 - 9:20 pm - There's curiosity, and then there's friggin' Ed.
 >----- Original Message -----
>From: Ed
>To: Auntie Bryan
>Sent: Thursday, August 24, 2000 2:59 PM >
> Why is the sky blue?
> Why does Daddy hit Mommy?
> Why do we remember the past, and not the future?
> Why do birds suddenly appear, ev'rey time, you are near?
> How many feathers are on a Perdue chicken?
>
> WHY?WHY?WHY?

What the hell is this? Just what are you trying to pull on Auntie? Ed, you're probably one of those assholes who calls up 411 and tries to squeeze 3 or 4 numbers out of the poor unsuspecting operator. Give you fucking ingrates an inch, and I swear you're halfway to Bosnia. I swear I oughta... huh? Oh, what was that, Sir? Uh, nothing Mr. Turner. Yes, Mr Turner, I have read the new Policies and Procedures manual. I'm sorry, Sir. I didn't mean to be abusive to a potential target market, Sir. No, Sir. It won't happen again.

I swear to you fuckers. I'll get you. All of you.

1. The sky is blue because in your obviously heroin-induced coma, you forgot to take off those cheesy fucking $5 blue sunglasses. It's December in Seattle, dumbass. Try looking up.

2. Daddy hits Mommy because you make Mommy cry. Daddy drinks because you make Mommy cry as well. Daddy might shoot all of you one day. He told me that at the bar the other day. He even went as far to show me "the fuckin' gun I'ma gonna DO it with" too. Wise up ya lil' punk.

3. I remember the future. I dunno what's wrong with you. We all remember the future since our new dark alien overlords installed the microchips secretly manufactured by Microsoft in a venture with the CIA and the Illumin... uh... wrong column. Sorry. Move along, nothing to see.

4. It's so obvious, I don't WANT to dignify it with a response. But, as I'm a corporate minstrel, I shall appease your every whim, oh mighty white man. *sigh* ...
just like me they long to be **asshole** close to you.
5. A Perdue chicken has no feathers. They are in fact BORN in that easy to carry shrink wrapped package at QFC. Duh. I mean, where else would meat come from? Sheesh.


Knowing is half the battle,

Auntie Bryan

Would you like fries with that? Super-size your Auntie Bryan today.
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[In mid-January 2001, an offer from HybridMagazine.com drifted across Auntie's field of vision (courtesy of my old roommate Tyler. I did one column, then got involved in the largest work project I've ever seen. Auntie fell by the wayside, and the column was pulled from Hybrid. Here's the only published Auntie column.]

Dear Reader:

The staff at Hybrid Magazine thought I should whip up a little "getting to know you" thing for this, my first published column. I'm so excited I've nearly soiled myself! A little about me:

My name is Auntie Bryan, and while I'm not technically your Auntie, you still better to listen to what I've got to say. I'm not exactly sure who my parents were or where I was born. In fact, my first real cognitive memories of this mortal coil start at about age 14. I remember riding in a rusty pick-up truck outside of Barstow with a whiskey-smelling old saint around the summer of 1936. As he was dropping me off near the Nevada border, I asked him, "Old man, where did I come from?" He replied, "Auntie, I pretty sure you were shit into existence." Good enough explanation for me!

While I don't have any actual training or skoolbuk learnin' in the Psychiatric Disciplines and am not a licensed counselor, I have knowledge of a life well-lived. I loved and lost, fought wars for freedom, met my demons at the crossroads, gleamed the cube, and made one killer meatloaf. I'm also an alcoholic and a pill-freak, so uh, y'know... I get it, dude. I can answer all manner of inquiries, be they garden variety household tips, relationship woes, pyrotechnics / firebombing, taxidermy, or whathaveyou.

You should know this as well: Auntie Bryan or Hybrid Magazine are not responsible for anything you do. Don't try this at home. OK, well if you do try this at home, send me video, damnit. Mmm-kay.

Each week [ok, that didn't happen - Ed. note]I'll answer 3 questions from the multitude of readers who write in requesting my sagely advice. Fear not, you paranoid cave-dwellers, your email address will be kept private, and your name will not be revealed if you so wish.

So now, that said, it's time to go through the looking glass, people.
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Auntie Bryan,
As the dot com I was slaving away for just went tits up, I recently discovered I have less than no money. Can you suggest a nutritious menu that will last at least a week based on this fact?

Wasting Away In Seattle

Dear Grumblin' Tummy,

I pity your current situation. While I'm not too hep on this whole Internet thing, I hear these "dot coms" are going by the wayside faster than those Wayans Brothers! Now, surviving on no money in an urban environment may seem like a daunting task, but really it can be quite fun and educational! Your typical downtown setting can provide you with a virtual Dim Sum of tasty treats. It's just a matter of perspective. Here's a few tips for preparing your own "field dressed meals": I hope these tips help you stay fed. By the way, let Auntie know when you find one of those rats. Miam miam!
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Auntie,
I'm currently looking for a new job, and I want to do something that I'll truly love. A friend told me that one garunteed [sic] path to happiness is to take a hobby and find a way to make a living off of it. That sounds great to me, but all I do every day is horde my own urine in jars (not just jars, of course! Empty bottles, desk drawers, laundry tubs, light fixtures, houseplants, other peoples shoes, I've become quite the virtuoso after years of practice. It's all I think about all day. It's all I dream about all night. I still have a filled tupperware bowl dating back to 1996.) Can I turn this into a career, or is it just a pipe dream? Thanks for your help, Auntie!

Micturating in Michigan

Dear Leaky Pants,

Everyone needs a hobby, and you sure have jumped head first into the warm fluids of yours dear sir. I commend you! Turning that favorite hobby into a worthwhile and lucrative career opportunity is truly the American Dream (tm), and I intend to help you hop on the gravy train.

Your particular talent is one that us in the Industry like to call a "specialty show". What industry, you may ask? Why the incall/outcall escort industry, silly! Did you really think you'd end up anywhere else, you piss freak? Sheesh.

Now, while you've stored your urine in mostly inanimate objects up until now, it's time to move up to living, breathing receptacles. Not only is it more financially viable, but the constructive criticism you receive is worth it's weight in golden showers! Hearing some humiliated commodities trader hiss in your eat, "Oh Christ yes... just pee on me!!" for the first time will let you know that you've gone down the right stream.

Get your personal ad running, my friend. Happy days are here again!
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Auntie Bryan,
How do you break the the family that you are living a full time S & M lifestyle? I think that perhaps bringing my partner to Christmas dinner in stocks while pouring candle wax over his naked back would be overkill, but I don't think there's really a way to say, "Mom, remember those hand cuffs that you found when I was 16? Well..." Any advice would be appreciated.

OBEY ME! in Olympia

Dear Master Of Puppets,

So... it's finally time to break the big news to Mom & Pop, eh? It's a tough decision, but one you shan't regret. Auntie's here for you, honey.

In your particular case, there's no real way to ease your loved ones into accepting the fact that you are a depraved, leather-fetished, anal fistin', ball gag wearin', gimp ownin', Marquee De Sade readin', freak 'o the week, whip smart dominatrix. It's sink or swim, really.

I'd suggest inviting your folks over to dinner at your place. But, of course, this will be a "special" dinner, if you catch my drift. The family that plays together stays together, for sure, but there's some logistical issues you'll need to have worked out well in advance. Make sure you've got the following things all sussed out: Use my tried and true method, and I'm sure your next family gathering will be a special one indeed. Oh, and yes, when they tell you to get your elbows off the table, make sure to give 'em a lashing for Auntie, won't you? Natch!

Need to be punished? Kiss Auntie's boots.
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Auntie's return. Again.

So I get an email the other day from a girl named Katie. No subject, no body. I write back with:
yes?



you rang?
A couple of days later, Katie replies with...
> Oh Aunty Bryan. My bad. I went looking for where hybrid had published you
> but couldn't find it and heh I'm a klutz when it comes to emails so it
> sent a blank one to you I'm afraid. Doh. I think I don't need any prudent
> advice at this moment so I shall leave you to dole out your little pearls
> of wisdom to others more in need. My apologies for the inconvenience.
>
> katebate
How kind! I, uh, think. But anyway, I realized that I still get quite a bit of Auntie mail, and I haven't answered it in months. You know what that makes me? A big, dumb, irresponsible asshole! But a cute one at that. Shut up.

So here's what I wrote back to Katie on 11 April, right before diving into the mailbag for the crusty old questions:
Ah HA!

You were just trying to pull a fast one on Auntie, were you? Well, you have to
wake up earlier than that my dearie. Auntie's an old, cruel bitch, but Auntie's
no dummy. Well, Auntie's been taken down off of Hybrid because Auntie was too
damn busy with work, Christmas, rent, knee surgery, addiction to pain killers
resulting from knee surgery, and general Seattle mayhem to write a regular
column.

But FEAR NOT gentle reader! Auntie will return soon, and Auntie's got a virtual
(and actual) shitload of junk to talk about.

Lock up your sons, springtime is HERE.


Luff n stuff n junk,

Auntie Bryan
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Message originally sent on 24 August 2000 - Answered on 01 May 2001
 From: Firebindy
To: Auntie Bryan

what are the true bad and good effects of X?
Dear Firesparkybuglegenddivawomanyo,

Well now. It's been a while since you posed your question, so you might have tried Ecstacy by the time this response. Hope it was fun if you did.

Truthfully, Auntie's a little disappointed it took the fucking PLUR-bot, faux-hippie, phat pants wearin', pacifier suckin' candy ravers this long to put down their glowsticks and write me. Lazy sods, all of them. Auntie had a lot of experience with E before kicking the proverbial bucket, so this question is right up her alley. [OK. Actually, I've taken The Whole Bolivian Army's share of E over the past 10 years, and good goddamn, I've got a coupla thangs to say. - ED. note.]

Ecstacy. Hit and miss, but mostly hit for yours truly. To quote the prophet Robert Plant: Good times, bad times
You know I've had my share
When my woman left home
For a brown eyed man
But I still don't seem to care I could share stories that might take up an entire novel, but I'll leave those for Irvine Welsh or Erowid. My purpose is comedy and light entertainment. Auntie doesn't get paid as much a Garrison Keiler to handle comedy and politics with the utmost care. I don't give two fucks about the world. OK, well, I might. OK, I've cried at a Bright Eyes concert. FINE, I cried at A Very Goofy Movie. Great, thanks, OK. Kindly fuck off now? Wonderful. Now, where was I.

Good effects of MDMA (Ecstacy):
  • Ability to dance well, seemingly without end
  • Touchy feely happy goodness with others
  • Lack of feel to share yourself with others
  • Accelerated heartrate
  • BACKRUBS
  • BACKRUBS
  • BACKRUBS
  • Scorpios
  • Scorpios
  • The amazing Zen you reached in a trancelike state while laying on the cool grass in late Summer in the mountains outside of Boulder, CO in 1994 watching the stars while listening to a wonderful beat, having slight hallucinations - a childlike grin on your face while holding hands with good friends - knowing that at that moment all is well in the universe (in the true opened Third Eye state of knowledge), and really, everything there is true and good whether you were on drugs or not. [So what if it's a runon sentence. It was also one of the most wonderful times I can rememeber with friends. Call me on it, I fucking dare you. - ED. note]
    • Bad effects of Ecstacy:
  • Ability to dance well seemingly without end... you will need some FUCKING WATER. SERIOUSLY.
  • Accelerated heartrate... again, H2FUCKINGOH!
  • GONNA MAKE YA SWEAT! ...for real. Soakin'
  • Clenched jaw like a two bit speedfreak if yer not careful
  • Seratonin crash (depression) the next day. [Take some 5-HTP (available at your local drugstore) in the morning, and it's a LOT easier - ED. note]
    • So really, like any other new substance you might introduce into your body, it's all about educating yourself and finding your own limit. There's no one way to answer this question as we all have our own chemistry. I suggest reading the MDMA archives of Erowid.org to learn about it, and then if you've got doubts about the pill sitting in your hand, check the DanceSafe Pill Test Archives. For real. This is Bryan telling you that.

    [Yes, it's a slight departure from normal Auntie form, but drug education is important if you're considering something new. Fo'sheezee. - ED. note.]
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    Auntie Loves your stupid ass. Write her NOW.

    Go home, chump.

    Everything you see here is NOT YOURS.
    Rather, it's all © 2001 Sillyape Heavy Metallurgic Industries / Bryan Middleton
    PLEASE ask me if you want to use something, I'll most likely say yes. Otherwise: All Rights Reserved.
    That, and damn, what an incredible ASSHOLE you are, Chet.