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EST. May 2000 (AD)

 
 

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Ask Audra

In honor of Happy Woman's one year anniversary, we here at "Audra" beg our faithful readers' indulgence as we look back over the past year, and the fateful circumstances that brought us all together.

For relationship, sex, career or family advice, email your questions to Audra at AskAudra@yahoo.com.

Audra & Me

By R.Hall

The genesis of my relationship with Audra is no

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.

different from that of any other disturbingly Freudian, mother-son affair involving a high profile network television programming executive and her young, amnesiac ward. I'm sure you can fill in the blanks yourself. But to paint a complete picture, I must go back fifteen years to a time and place I no longer recall.

In the middle 1980's, Audra, on sabbatical from the world of American TV, accepted an offer to fill the recently vacated, highly esteemed Dr. Fell Chair in Renaissance Art at the Universita di Firenze. It was there amidst the amply-tittied splendor of the Raphaels and Botticellis that Audra found her niche. As she gazed into the winsome eyes of the masters grape-draped, lovelorn subjects, she realized, perhaps for the first time in her life, the precariousness of love; how the fickle heart can play tricks on our Cartesian minds. And she knew at once that American women would go hog-wild for a network that featured violent, "true" stories of women whose love lives had gone to hell in a handbasket. (She also intuited that she could fill-out the schedule with Bea Arthur sitcom reruns. The woman's a frickin' genius.)

Without delay Audra rushed back to the States to set her plan in motion. (But not before buying a Loretta Lynn album that she listened to for the one thousandth time for the first time, if you know what I mean.) Upon return to New York, Audra pitched her idea first to an old boss at Nickelodeon who nixed it, opting for more wholesome content on the order of Christina Aguilera music specials. Although Audra was never one to accept defeat, she did reference this particular slight quite often, particularly while preparing meals.

Armed with only a vast network of industry contacts and unlimited cash flow, Audra struck out on her own. In order to acquaint herself with love's seamy underbelly, she researched criminology, specifically domestic abuse, sexual battery and middle American, homicidal, bulimic housewives who bare uncanny resemblance to Meredith Baxter Birney That's where I came in. You see I was a junior Special Agent with the FBI when Audra came calling. The bureau chief assigned me to help the "nice, intimidating, overtly sexual lady from Jew York City". Initially Audra's insults and pomposity rubbed me the wrong way. But I suppose her constant barrage of insults ("You cheap-shoed, bug-eyed rube.") belied her affection for me. After only a month I accepted an invitation to join Audra at her chalet in Lake Placid, ostensibly to review case files. One evening, the last I recall with any detail, Audra and I had a guest for dinner. Although I remember almost nothing of the meal or the man, I do recall he wore an odd hat through part of the meal (which I found unusually rude), only to remove it as the main course arrived. Oh, and he was President of Nickelodeon, the very same one Audra had repeatedly sworn to murder in the most gruesome manner possible.

Long story short, when I came to six months later in Rio, Audra was Executive in Charge of Programming at the brand new Lifetime Television for Women and I had all the cashmere sweaters I could ever hope for. Although the intervening lost months were troubling (as were the battery of medications Audra insisted I take), there was all that cashmere!

These days, between meds, I dispense Audra's sage words of advice to the readers of Happy Woman Magazine. Audra says it's the least we can do, for, after all, "doesn't everyone deserve a love like ours?"

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ABOUT AUDRA

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.