Trap Him, Feed Him, Keep Him

The Other Woman

Dear Whitney & Liria,

My is husband is constantly checking out other women when we're out together. I've told him how much it bothers me but he just claims that he isn't doing it. Help!

The Other Woman

Whitney Says:

Dear Other,

My darling girl, there is such an obvious solution that I'm frankly surprised you haven't figured it out for yourself. You must simply return the favor. Next time you and the old ball-and-chain go out, I want you to drool over the waiter, bag boy, or gas station attendant like he's a big old slab of myCHEERY CHERRY PIE. Make sure to make some yummy sounds and perhaps groan a little. When your husband calls you on your behavior, tell him you have no idea what he's talking about. If he's worth his salt, he'll stop his lecherous ways ASAP.

Don't forget to pit your cherries!

Liria says:

Dear Other,

A little When Harry Met Sally medicine is indeed in order. If you're up for a slightly bolder approach, pack a couple slices of that deliciously decadent Cheery Cherry Pie and take hubby to Starbucks for their coffee and your pie. Muster your courage, and really E-N-J-O-Y. Like Sally, spare no sound effects.

By the time you're done with your performance, you could throw your own pie-eating contest and hubby will know it too.

That oughtta keep him attentive to the most important woman in the world, You!

His Exes Are Cramping My Style

Dear Whitney and Liria,

My boyfriend insists on staying friends with his ex-girlfriends and this really bothers me. Should I tell him how I feel?

One in a Harem

Whitney Says:

Dear One,

Of course you should tell him! The only women that your boyfriend should currently see that have seen him naked are you and his mother. You don't need a bunch of other gals hanging around that know all about his packaging. It's just not right. If he is in fact some kind of Sheik and you are truly one in a harem, then you deserve what you get. Try my SAVORY STUFFED FIGS, they're marvelous!

No more veils~

Liria Says:

Dear Harem Girl,

So you think you're in a harem, huh? I think it's time to do some soul searching. Is there anyone in your past that your boyfriend might prefer you didn't know? As I see it, you have a couple of options.

You could give him an ultimatum: you or the exes. And Whitney makes an excellent point. But too often threats just drive his relationships underground. Men are notorious for hedging their bets.

Second, the more reasonable approach goes well with a bottle of Merlot. It's a generous cup of my "Simpler Than Throwing Him Out" MUSHROOM SOUP. Just remember, everybody's had a life. Talk to him about what's making you uncomfortable. Listen to him. Asses his reactions. Do some soul searching Girl, maybe it's time you get a life too!

SOUP IS GOOD FOOD!

Husband Looking At Internet Porn

Dear Whitney and Liria,

I woke up in the middle of the night last Tuesday and discovered that my husband, Frank, was "doing the nasty" watching internet porn. I'm so disgusted that I haven't let him back into our bed. What would you do? I love my husband but I'm sick at the thought that the pig is cheating on me with strange women on-line.

Porned Out in Pensacola

Whitney Says:

Dear Pen,

The whole internet porn thing is an alarming phenomenon! What is the world coming to when nice married ladies stumble upon their husbands in the throes of self-induced pleasure? It's time to sit ole Franky down and explain that this behavior is not going to wash with you. Then put him on a diet of my LITTLE CHOPPED FRANKS AND BEANS. When he comments that you've made him the same dish for ten days, inform him of the therapeutic benefits of chopping weiners. He'll take your point almost immediately!

Remember, boys will be boys, it's our job to make men out of them!

Liria Says:

Dear Pensicola,

Cheating on you? Honey, get out the dictionary. What you describe isn't cheating. Now if you'd walked in on him and found him with another woman, live and in the flesh, THAT would be cheating. He isn't planning on leaving you for a monitor. Guaranteed.

It's time for a talk. Thing is, it may be challenging to create the kind of open environment needed for a heart-to-heart while you're calling Frank a pig!

Curiosity will take you further than judgment every time!

He'd Rather Watch TV

Dear Whitney and Liria,

My boyfriend is more interested in the television than me. What should I do?

Tube Tied

Whitney Says:

Dear Tube,

This is a question for the ages. Men do love their television, it's true. I can only assume that you are not as interesting as say, the golf he watches. I suggest that you make a big batch of my NAUGHTY NACHOS and serve them to him wearing nothing but a frilly apron. If this doesn't get his attention, drop something on the floor right in front of him and pick it up. If he still isn't biting, he's gay. Move on.

Good Luck!

Liria Says:

Dear Tube,

Either you are a libido-crazed machine or he's just not that into you. That's a husband problem, not a boyfriend problem. You could cook for him, and those NAUGHTY NACHOS are k-i-l-l-e-r! But you could also start a one woman yoga class in your living room. Better yet, hire a trainer. Best would be if you have floor space behind the couch. You'll know which situation you've got when he has to turn around to see you contort. Never fails. Men are like dogs when they watch their women do yoga.

Woof!

He Wants Me To Get A Boob Job

Dear Whitney & Liria,

My boyfriend wants me to have a boob job. He says that if I do it, he'll probably propose to me. I'm scared to death to have surgery and I think I look fine the way I am. What should I do?

Flat in Phoenix

Whitney Says:

Dear Flat,

Inform your boyfriend that Dr. 90210 does penile enhancement as well. If he wants you to add a couple of inches, tell him he needs to return the favor. If he doesn't shut up about the whole boob job thing, kick him to the curb and find yourself someone worthy. If he stops talking about it, but still gives you those idiotic, meaningful looks meant to guilt you into it; make him a batch of my TEENY TINY COCKTAIL WEENIES. That'll shut him up.

Some men are pigs and yours takes the cake!

Liria Says:

Dear Flat,

This letter begins with a recipe. Before you do anything else, take yourself to the kitchen and make my LIRIA'S LUSCIOUS APRICOT-STUFFED CHICKEN BREASTS. They're a mouthful! As the owner of a particularly plump pair, I can assure you that large breasts (except in matters of chicken) are not all they're cracked up to be.  Just as anyone voluntarily contemplating pregnancy should strap on one of those weighted maternity tummys for a day; I would suggest you do the same for breast enhancement. After all, you're the one who's gotta wear them, you know, forever.

Unlike children, these babies don't turn eighteen and move out. Then again, when silicone gets old it tends to rupture and leak and cause cancer. So, think about it. You may be dead, but at least you'll be married. Sure, what the hell, I say go for it!

Are you out of your mind?!

He Won't Marry Me!

Dear Whitney and Liria,

My boyfriend and I have two children and have lived together for seven years. My problem is that he still hasn't proposed. How am I ever going to become his wife?

Always the Bridesmaid

Whitney Says:

Dear Always,

Close down the dairy girfriend!!! Your man has opted not to pay for his milk for too long. It's time to cut him off! Normally, I would say that if he hasn't popped the question inside of two months, you should leave. But sadly, you have done the unthinkable and already procreated with this fiend.

As a last resort, I would check the common law marriage rules in your state and if you find that your seven years of co-habitation have already made you his legal spouse, then hop on down to city hall and change your name. Your next course of action is to stop by Kay Jewelers and buy yourself a ring. Then let everyone know that you and Billy Bob are now man and wife. In fact send out announcements and see if you can snag some wedding gifts while you're at it.

Before resorting to the common law approach, I would make your man a batch of my MAPLE SYRUP MUFFINS. He might just drop down on his knees and propose right there at the breakfast table.

Keep your knees together and good luck!

Liria Says:

Dear Always,

Close the dairy? Whitney, that farm is all she's got. You've got to be practical here. Our girl forgot the cardinal rule of dating when she became a breeder... twice. While I do hate to rain on anybody's parade, I've got bad news. One little darling and you might have been able to pull it off. Two, and it's just way too late for you.

The good news? You can make him a batch of anything you want and enjoy it! If you're still hell-bent on matrimony, my poor little poster child for don't-let-this-happen-to-you, I have a plan. Surprise him by making his favortite meal and then ply him with the whole liquor cabinet (may I suggest making him a pitcher of our "IT'S A VERY LONG ISLAND" ICED TEA. In a pinch, who says you can't throw your own shotgun wedding?

Ready, Aim, Fire!

Having His Parents Over

Dear Whitney and Liria,

I'm about to plotz, big time! My boyfriend's parents are coming over to my house for dinner on Saturday night and I've never met them before. I can only assume that Joel is getting serious if he's introducing us. The thing is that Joel knows I can't cook. What-oh-what am I going to make so they give their stamp of approval and encourage their son to marry me?

Meshuggah in Memphis

Whitney Says:

Dear Shug,

Joel is a putz if he knows you can't cook, yet insists you do so when you meet his parents for the first time. Boy howdy, this boy needs a refresher course in what you will and will not put up with. This is the only time EVER that I have not had a food recommendation for one of the gals that writes in. But for you sugar, my best advice is to call for reservations. When Joel et al come a knock'n, tell them to shake their tail feathers or they'll miss dinner.

Of all the nerve!

Liria Says:

Dear Memphis,

There's no reason you should get all stressed slaving over a hot stove just so the parentals can proceed to grill you under the hot lights. That's more heat than any girl oughtta endure. So here's my thought: He isn't playing fair with you, babycakes, and believe you me, two can play that game. We are the cagier sex and we can win this one. Watch!

Why not have them all believing that you're the best cook this side of the Mississippi? It's time for some tip-top catering, my girl. If you're serious about the ring, it's time to practice the art of illusion. You need co-conspirators, lots of them. Forbid anyone from arriving before 7 p.m. Have your team come early in the day and bring all kinds of sumptuous goodies. While you're at it, throw in hair, makeup, wardrobe, and hypnosis. If your gonna create an illusion, why not create the one that says not ONLY can I make the best meal you people have ever eaten, but I'm such a catch that I look flawless, perfect, and completely calm while doing it. The ring will be on your finger any day. Guaranteed.

By the way, you'll want to charge the whole kitandkaboodle to Joel's credit card.

If he ever asks about the bill, remind him NEVER to put you in this position again!

Beautiful, no?!

No "Play" ... No Pay!

Dear Whitney and Liria,

I recently moved to Hollywood to become an actress. I've started to get some really good auditions but I've had to work for them. You see, I've started to offer a few oral services in exchange for opportunity. It's been going great except that now my agent won't send me out for anything until I visit his office first. Is there anyway to stop this now that I've started?

Tonsillitis in Tinsel Town

Whitney Says:

Dear Tonsillitis,

Were you raised in a brothel? If so, I might have some understanding of your get-to-the-top motivational technique. You my dear are NOT doing yourself any favors by putting such questionable things into your mouth. It's time to eat something delicious like my TANGY "Pucker-Up" LEMON BARS. My best advice to you is share them with your agent after you tell him about the gonorrhea. This should help to ease him out of his current expectations.

Keep your mouth shut!

Liria Says:

Dear Mouth,

Define going great. I'm all for using every competitive advantage you've got. I mean, it's a tough world. Apparenlty it's just gotten tougher for you. Don't worry, I've got good news. You've proven there is a career that you're perfectly suited for. Pick up a box of Ding Dongs and take them with you to the next adult film casting call in Chatsworth. And hey, if you run into Seymour Butts, tell him the girl who sat next to him in eighth grade geometry says hello. You never know where your next big break is going to come from, right? And Whitney, don't take the girl away from her calling!

Remember ladies, men are pigs, eating pork is optional.

Ta Ta Trashy,

My Boyfriend is Going to Strip Clubs

Dear Whitney and Liria,

My boyfriend goes to the bar every Monday night to watch the ball game. I stopped by to surprise him tonight and guess what? He wasn't there. His friends were doing their best to cover for him, but I'm afraid that he's going to the strip clubs again. Even though he promised that he'd stop. What should I do?

Angry in Anchorage

Whitney Says:

Dear Angry,

First of all, how good looking are the strippers in Alaska anyway? I mean I'm getting a visual here and I see facial hair. Obviously, regardless of how hot these chics are or are not, you do not want your boyfriend oggling them. I get that. Yet I'm wondering what he's getting at the strip clubs that he's not getting at home. I am not blaming you in any way. I am simply asking the obvious question.

Do you think perhaps that it's time for a trip to Trashy Lingerie for a Naughty Nurse's uniform? Find out what your boyfriend's fantasies are and help make them come true for him (within reason). Maybe perform a little strip-tease of your own. I do not recommend using the pole though. My friend Rachael did that and wound up in the emergency room getting fifty-two stitches when she flew face first through the bedroom window. I'm enclosing a simply fabulous recipe for my "Whip Him Up" WHIPPED CREAM.

I wish you much good use of it.

Liria Says:

Dear Angry,

At the bar you know he's watching the cheerleaders just as our eyes are focused on the tight buns in tight pants running around doing that silly little happy dance. I'm gonna suggest you make him some HOT "DON'T CROSS ME" BUNS. Impale THEM on a pole, and serve fresh from the oven on Sunday morning. Trust me, that'll keep him in next Monday night. Sometimes subtle works just fine.

Now you can enjoy the democratic pleasures of Monday night football together.

Touchdown?!

We Can't Agree on Music

Dear Whitney and Liria,

I like folk tunes and my boyfriend likes Motley Crue. We can never agree on what music to listen to. Please help!

Tuneless

Whitney Says:

Dear Tuneless,

You and your honey are going to have to harmonize here. Think along the lines of, "If I had a hammer, I'd hit you over the head with it..." or "Shot to the heart and you're to blame, but if you sprinkle some fairy dust on it, all will be forgiven..." You should start by making my WHITNEY'S ROCKIN' RATATOUILLE. Hot or cold, it rocks!

Go tell it on the mountain, sista friend!

Liria Says:

Dear Tuneless,

Sounds to me like you two are gonna need to start making your own music. While on the hunt it's important to focus on the positive. What DO you have in common? While you may never find your musical match, you can take those folksy roots and try a little traditional culinary warfare. Play your cards right and you'll have him eating out of your hand (and elsewhere). For this, I send you back to Whitney's WHIPPED "I Don't Care What Kind of Music You Like, This Stuff Will Blow Your Mind" CREAM.

Don't forget Tuneless, that though a man is ready to be trapped and caged, he may not be ready to give up his Motley Crue rock-n-roll fantasies like Girls, Girls, Girls. But in the end, these are the same boys that make him sing along to Home Sweet Home.

Have a little faith or you'll be singing the blues.

My Husband Says I Can't Cook

Dear Whitney and Liria,

I'm a twenty-two year old bride and my husband complains incessantly that I don't cook as well as his mother. It's gotten to the point where I'm so mad at him that I don't want him to touch me. Help, what do I do?

Married in Hell

Whitney Says:

Dear Married,

Ask your husband if he knows what his mother looks like in a thong bikini from Victoria Secret. Once he's done hurling, remind him that he'll never see you in yours again if he can't seperate you from the woman who gave birth to him. Then when he's begging your forgiveness, make him a Hot Fudge Sundae with my Bourbon Fudge Sauce. Strategically dribble the sauce for added enjoyment. He'll never compare you to his mother again.

Bon Appetit!

Liria Says:

Dear Married,

Yeah, that'll work!