PUBLISHED MONTHLY
EST. May 2000 (AD)

 
 

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Ask Audra

This week, Audra's format reflects a slight departure from her usual style, as she is ensconced in delicate legal maneuvering in Scandinavia.

Recently while on a lecture tour of the Netherlands, Audra received a telegram from her dear friend, the recently well-married, Baroness Joan van Ark-von

Audra Columbiin-Masacarra is a charter member of the cultural elite. As such, she is only available for a select pantheon of Hollywood bigwigs and wealthy hyphenates. Others (this includes you, Valerie Bertinelli) wishing to contact Audra may do so through through her ward, R. Hall, a New York based freelance writer.

R. Hall is a regular contributor to Modern Humorist. Check out his latest offering: You Are the Weakest Catchphrase... Goodbye! and A Democratic Response to Barbra Streisand's Memo.

Hindenberg. According to Joan's cable, fashion model Christy Turlington, also on Holiday in Amsterdam, was simply dying to meet Audra. Could the two get together over a bong? Without hesitation Audra directed her ward, the omni-talented R. Hall, to dash to the station onmiddellijk and send the following cable reply:

"Horse-toothed ironing board unwelcome here. Stop.
Email fat-free "brownie" recipe. Stop.
Never without my Blackberry. Stop."

Alas, the telegram did not reach Joan in time. Within minutes, to Audra's pursed-lipped horror, Turlington arrived sans invitation, helped herself to hookah, then, mad with starvation, rang up room service. The walking clothes hanger proceeded to gorge her lanky frame on made-to-order waffle fries and a fist full of diabetic candy excavated from her purse, cellophane and all (fine taste, she). Ms. Turlington (hereinafter referred to as "the defendant") thereafter began to complain of "an uh-oh in my tummy". Anticipating that the defendant's "tummy" had never been the repository of a meal more substantive than grape skins, Audra directed her cabal of assistants to remove all valuables from the immediate area. Unfortunately, Audra's immediate area is never filled with anything but valuables. There simply was no time.

[All details henceforth are protected under a judge's gag order, the thought of which never fails to raise Audra's finely penciled right eyebrow.]

Suffice it to say, damage from the gastro-intestinal "event" which followed has run into the hundreds of thousands of guilders. As Audra is busy selecting a large-rimmed, black hat for her appearance today in Holland's Crown Court, she asked her personal assistant, the milque-toast, sycophantic, severely astigmatic, Moira, to compile a list of Audra's pithiest words of wisdom. Moira, or "Marcie" (Peppermint Patty's heel-snapper in Peanuts as the faithful servant is known with alternating affection and pity), selected the following Frequently Asked Questions fielded by Audra during her recent appearance before the Fundamentalist Christian Men's group, Promise Keepers.

Promise Keepers FAQ:

Q: Do you believe that a woman's place is in the home?

A: Naturally, I cannot answer definitively without having first seen the home. However, if the residence to which you refer bears any resemblance to the tract nightmares I sped past on my way in from the airport, the answer is an unequivocal, No.

Q: My wife seems distracted lately. She pays little or no attention to me and goes for long, midnight runs, returning home late at night without a drop of sweat on her skin-tight leather pants. Something seems amiss. What is your take?

A: She bangs.

Q: My wife used to nag me constantly that our sex life (consisting solely of the Biblically sanctioned "Missionary Position") was not fulfilling her needs. Recently though she stopped complaining. Around the same time I began to notice an odd humming sound, ending abruptly whenever I return home after work. What could this be?

A: She bops.

Q: Currently there is a debate in the USA over whether or not white Americans should tender a collective apology to African-Americans for the crime of slavery. Don't you think we should go back farther and insist that women apologize on behalf of Eve for allowing Satan a foothold in the world?

A: I think we should go back even farther than that and require men to apologize for inventing a theology so doctrinaire it does not include wiggle-room for certain moral subjectives too numerous to mention, most of which fall under the umbrella term of "France".

Q: On that same subject, the directions on my shaving cream are translated into French. Does this mean I'm gay?

A: Absolutely!

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