Dear Rudence, Broken Fray Edition

A riff on Dear Prudence, Post and Comments Here

Well, as we approach a week or so of grotesquely interrupted Fray operation, it becomes clear that if one wishes to post, the Fray isn't exactly the most sublime place to do it. Rudie believes that what is currently happening on the Fray is actually the inspiration for the word 'chagrin'. Kind of conjures up an image of teeth being ground down to the dentin.

Even though it would be characteristically inappropriate to do so, Rudie will NOT cast aspersions at the capable hands at Slate, as they strive desperately to keep running that grungy 386 with the 40meg hard drive which contains the entire of the Fray universe (on a budget consisting of 42 cents, a spool of chartreuse thread, a pack of Fruit Stripe gum, and a rubber duck named Ramses). Rudie, having experienced similar, has nothing but empathy for your situation. Your efforts are to be commended, Rudie wishes you all the best in your Sisyphean endeavors. Be careful and watch for falling boulders.

However Rudie would feel remiss if he didn't take this opportunity to vent his utter frustration with this prolonged and erratic downtime.

Note that the following should not be taken personally. It is merely Rudie's soliloquy of rage.

*TAP* *TAP* *TAP* (baton raps on podium)

First violin, if you would be so kind as to play me the note of 'vitriol sharp'?

***GROWWWWLLL***

Thank you.

Ahem...

[CENSORED] and you're a [CENSORED][CENSORED]!! As far as I'm concerned, you can [CENSORED] your [EXPLETIVE DELETED][CENSORED] and [ANATOMICALLY IMPOSSIBLE ACT] your [CENSORED][EXPLETIVE DELETED] up your [NEVER HEARD OF THIS BODY PART... SERIOUSLY, WHATS A 'FLUFFWHIZZ?'] with a [CENSORED][EXPLETIVE DELETED][GARDEN IMPLEMENT? JEEZ...] until it [CENSOREDLY][CENSORED] upside down and scratches the inside of your [CENSORED... YEAH, THIS ONE I'VE HEARD OF]!!!! Fuckity fuck fuck fuck. Asshole.

Consider it vented.

Thank you. Rudie feels much better. Now, on to the show.

Dear Rudie,
My boyfriend and I have been together for five years and have lived together for two of those years. We are in our 20s. The other night I was using his computer (mine is away for repairs) to look at some pictures from a recent family trip and had to eject a CD of his. When I reinserted it, the contents were displayed on the screen. I was only a little surprised when the contents turned out to be pornography, as I know that he's a guy and enjoys it occasionally (although probably more than I would like), and we use it together at times. But when I looked more closely at the titles of the pictures and video clips, I realized many had to do with child pornography. I opened them, thinking they may just be labeled wrong, but they weren't. Quite a few of them involved young (approximately 6 to 10 years old) girls. It made me physically ill to think that my boyfriend might be looking at these. I suppose it's possible a friend gave it to him and he didn't know what was on it. My dilemma is, how do I ask him about this without making it seem like I was snooping through his stuff? I really do try to be careful that I don't invade his privacy when I use his computer, as I know that would bother him.

—Confused and Worried

Dear Dazed,

Let me get this straight. You found a disc, popped it in, found pictures that would cause Nabokov's most well-known protagonist to become decidedly unsettled, AND to which you became physically ill, and you are worried about the accidental invasion of privacy you have committed?

You have done what very few before you have been capable of doing. You have left Rudie utterly, completely, jawdroppingly, shorts-soilingly speechless. Your question has drawn the thoughts from his head with its vacuousness , and the very lack of ability to see any difference in degree between the two moral issues in question has sucked from Rudie the will to even begin to have the urge to start to have the merest scintilla of a thought of formulating a response (as well as a few bits of undigested pizza from his colon).

No, seriously, Rudie's got nothing. Nothing, that is, except a deep desire to go find some clean drawers.

Congratulations, if Rudie had some prize dough to give away and a deep, abiding necessity to reward gobsmacking idiocy, you'd be the lucky 10th caller. Unfortunately, Rudie is not a DJ at some cheesy classic rock station looking to give away overpriced Rolling Stones Geriatric Tour tickets, he's looking to give away a few clues, even to unwilling and undeserving retreads like you.

And having been exposed to the sensibility-black-hole, oblivionic-void nature of your concerns, now he can't even do that. Thanks a pantload, Chet.

—Rudie, no-seriously-still-got-nothing-ly

Dear Rudence,
I am seven months pregnant with my first child. My husband and I had been trying for a baby for quite a while and had shared with our families the plan to name the baby after both my grandmothers if it was a girl (which it is). However, three weeks ago my sister gave birth to a baby girl and, to my surprise, named her after our maternal and paternal grandmothers, as I had planned to do. I am enraged. I can't believe my sister would do something so underhanded as stealing the names I had planned to give my child. My mother thinks I should let this go and move on, but I'm having trouble even being in the same room with my sister. At this point, I have seen my niece only once since she was born. Should I let bygones be bygones, and if so, how?

—Nameless

Dear Hopeless,

Guh. The dilemma of the honorific naming of children. You know, maybe Rudie is just a curmudgeon, all at the tender age of 35 (for which he squarely blames addle-minded douchenauts like you), but when Rudie was but a wee grump, naming babies was simple. If it was your firstborn son, name it after daddy. All of the others, you pick an older relative that hasn't been used by the current generation of mental patient parents in your family and use that. All used up? Oh, I dunno, maybe you just pick a new one out of the buh-fucking-zillion names out there.

Here's another thought, why don't you take the two granny names and switch them around. You know, like if your sister named her daughter Henrietta Esther, you name yours Esther Henrietta. With names two generations out of fashion, they should both be equally scarred for life.

Better yet, Rudie's always liked names that set a goal or an expectation for a child, you know, the ones that when they get older tend to be ironic. For example, naming a kid Hunter who eventually turns out scared of blood and wildlife, or simply can never seem to locate his keys. Or choosing a 'cool' name, like Xander, who ends up heading up the Latin club, the math club, and the physicssss club... physics club, lists as his hobbies bug collecting and picking things off himself, and who lists his greatest talent as 'the uncanny ability to roll twenties' (yes, this is a Dungeons and Dragons reference, and God help you if you got it).

Maybe you can take a cue from Hollywood, and name your child the first set of drug-enhanced syllables that pop into your head mid-coitus. Name them after cartoon characters you've seen, or perhaps bizarre imaginary friends you've hallucinated.

But, under no circumstances use the old tried and true names without misspelling them in 'edgy' ways. Gynnyfer. Bahb. Steyvyn. Elyzibath. Xamuyl. Dug. Candi with an 'i'? That's so '95. Candi with a 'xpsyeeee@stupidshithead.com', now that says 'new millenium' like a brand new hovercar.

So take solace, let your sister have the exacta when it comes to granny transnomenclature, she just saved you from flatheaded anachronism and hateful children who curse you for giving them such embarrassing names. No. Your kids are going to be hip. They're going to be now. They're going to be bleeding edge.

So send your child off into this new world with a name that's too cool to forget.

How about 'Gynoclastia'? Wooooo. Now that's something. It's just... wow.

—Rudie, taxonomically

Dear Rudie,
My male partner of over six years and I are lucky enough to live in Massachusetts, where we have the legal right to marry. While we both want to have a wedding in the near future, we are unsure about what to do with the invitations. Since we have both been to numerous family weddings, we feel as though we should send invitations to all members of his family and mine. Knowing that some would object to our marriage based on religious or political beliefs, I want to put a disclaimer attached to the invitation to please not attend out of a feeling of obligation, only if you wish to help celebrate our day. We want only family members and friends at our wedding who are truly happy for us, not someone who disapproves or is even disgusted by our union. I thought of inviting only my immediate family, but I know that members of the extended family would be hurt to not be invited. Is it appropriate to invite only those I know would attend? Another part of the problem is that I have never really "come out" to the family, but my partner has attended multiple family events (including weddings) and is well-known.

—Invitation Situation

Dear Celebration Aggravation,

Let's start from the end. If, on the wedding invitation it says, "Fred Jones and John Smith to be wed as Husband and Husband", Rudie thinks even a person with advanced Alzheimers, a basketball-sized brain tumor sticking out the back of his skull, and a history of crack use just MIGHT be able to piece together the truth of this event without a formalized "coming out". Of course, some of these people might just be the sort to write letters to Rudie, in which case, he's not so sure. But let's assume that this is covered.

Second, not everybody who is offered a wedding invitation actually attends. Those 4 little letters R.S.V.P (Repondez, s'il-vous plait) are French for "Let me know if you aren't coming so I know how many bottles of vodka and plates of shrimp cocktail I need to spring for." In other words, they have the option not to come. This, plus the fact that the main protagonists in the wedding party happen to be of the same gender, is likely to keep away most of the sort least likely to appreciate your union.

And finally, let's just suppose someone comes who doesn't particularly like the idea of you guys getting hitched, but comes for the free food and booze, what do you expect? Hecklers? Rudie's seen a lot of awesomely fucked up shit at weddings. He's seen stilted, insulting speeches given by best men who've gotten drunk before the food's even served. He's seen the maid of honor pass out face first into her soup in an alcoholic stupor. He's seen the bridal party nearly break out into a catfight as they scrabble at the bouquet.

Ah. Good times.

But to this day, he has yet to see a person spend beaucoup bucks to get dressed up in a tuxedo, suit, or gown, drive a buhgillion miles out of his or her way, just for the opportunity to heckle the wedding party in front of family and friends likely to disown him/her out of bold-faced mortification.

So put away your childish disclaimers and irrational fears. No one wants to be known as 'that asshole who fucked up so-and-so's wedding'. This 'problem' will take care of itself.

—Rudie, relaxationally

Dear Rudence,
I'm 18 and just starting college. Last year I met this guy at work. We asked each other to the prom (we went to different schools) and from there started some sort of relationship. Basically we were dating without actually saying we were dating. About a week after prom, he just stopped talking to me. I tried to get a reason out of him but he wouldn't respond to e-mails or calls. I finally talked to him, and he told me he just hadn't had time. Yeah, right—it had been four months. I went off to college and was starting to get over him, but out of the blue, he e-mailed me again as if nothing had happened. I really like him, but I'm afraid that he'll just hurt me again.

—Freshman

Dear Suffer-more,

Expecting an 18-year-old male to have the maturity to be deferent and respectful of the needs and wants of the significant other in his life is as probable as the sun rising in the morning... and exploding as it gets halfway up the sky.

But you are an 18-year-old female, and to expect you to have the maturity to deal with a breakup is as likely as the rain falling from the sky in the summertime... then morphing into a gang of ninjas before it hits the ground.

You have no idea what happened, do you?

Well, *DING*, class is in session, young suffer-more.

Lesson 1: Boyfriends who don't call or return calls for four months have dumped you for another girl. They just didn't tell you. Oh, it still happened. Have no illusions about that. You were just left out of the informational loop. That information is on a need to know basis, and apparently, you do not need to know.

Lesson 2: Boyfriends who don't call or return calls for four months, then call back out of the blue were dumped by the other girl. You just reascended to the top of their priority list. They just didn't tell you. Oh, it still happened. Have no illusions about that. You were just left out of the informational loop. That information is on a need to know basis, and apparently, you do not need to know.

My advice to you would be to get back together with this guy. You didn't seem to get it the first time around, and now that you've been appropriately educated on the matter, you should be much better equipped to handle this mysterious breakup issue the next time he does it. And he will. But you've got to learn somehow, right?

-Rudie, hit-me-in-the-head-with-a-brick-ly

That's all for this week, kids. And remember, just because you're paranoid doesn't mean they're not out to get you, it's just extremely unlikely, so put your tinfoil hat back on and quit trying to convince me that the moon landings were fake, you twit.