Dear Miss Eliza
Dear Miss Eliza,Why are slugs usually found in gardens?
-Dirty Hands in Denver
Dear Dirty Hands,
Thank you for your grubby and slimy contribution to the Miss Eliza column. Please write again!
You’ll be happy to know I went right to the source on this one.
I stepped out into the early morning haze and inhaled that infamous aroma that says, "I hope you parked your car on the high ground today," and trotted off to that 4x4 patch (and that’s inches) better known as my herb garden. And as I looked down at my bare toes I beheld a golden lump of snot. He looked so contented with his lot in life, care taking my plants and telling them stories about when they were knee high to a grasshopper’s nose. I poked the young gentleman onto my forefinger and brought him up to eye level.
"Oh, it’s you," he says. I attribute the flatness in his tone to the fact that he is after all, a slug.
"Oh, wise and aged creature, share with me your delectable secrets. I long so to be one with nature and her family," says me.
"Freak," says he. (You may wonder, how did I know it was a he? The guy would not stop looking at my chest. Dead giveaway.)
"Answer me this, oh heart of the land, why do you and your kin reside in the soft dirt of man’s garden? What secrets does Mother Earth share with you here?"
"Look, I don’t know what’s up with you, but I took this job cuz of the bennies. And when they take my bennies away, I’m gone. Get it?"
And there you have it. Slugs reside in gardens cuz of the bennies. Of course, it didn’t occur to me to ask what kind of bennies come with being a slug in a garden, but lets hope there’s a dental plan.
-Miss Eliza
Dear Miss Eliza,
Each evening my husband and I get in a huge argument over who should do the dishes. This quite often ends in hurling of said dishes across rooms. To date we’ve gone through 15 casserole dishes, 54 plates, 99 water glasses, and 4 windowpanes. We’ve agreed that the only way to keep our deposit on the house is to get an arbitrator, and congratulations, that's you! So, Miss Eliza, who should do the dishes, me or my husband?
--Paper Plates in Portland
Dear Paper Plates,
Thank you for your philosophical and clearly equalitative question. I shall do my best.
This is a conundrum as old as human civilization. The minute Eve brought home her first set of Correllware, Adam immediately replied, "Ain’t to way I’m cleaning that." And Eve retorted, "Don’t go there, buddy. You eat off it, you clean it."
Which sounds like a good rule of thumb, doesn’t it? But here’s the problem. If that was the answer, then it would come later in my letter. So we must look for other alternatives.
My personal favorite is the "Baby Knows Best" theory. This says that infants are far more in tune with the age old wisdom of the universe. Their answers to life’s questions ought to be recorded somewhere and kept sacred. But you have to ask before they lose this knowledge. There is a very small window of time between the time they learn to speak and the time their wisdom shrinks to the size of a singularity. (But without all the density which is disappointing.) About the only time you’re going to get anything useful out of them is around the time of the first word.
Which means basically that which ever name your baby says first, "momma or dada," that’s you’re answer.
Not that the other partner gets off scott free. Where’s the equality in that? No, whoever doesn’t do the dishes is forever after in charge of washing, pairing, and folding socks.
And as for all you sparring couples out there that have no children, I’m an old fashioned girl, and I fall back on old fashioned methods. This particular one is called "Rock, Paper Scissors." Perhaps you’ve heard of it. You can play it once, or you can play best of three. But upwards of that and you’re just stalling and should be shot.
I hope that answers your question.
-Miss Eliza
Dear Miss Eliza,
Why are boys such liars?
--Honest Abbella
Dear Abella,
The answer to this question lies with us. Females have none to blame but ourselves. Boys lie to us because the truth has the same effect on us as water does on the Wicked Witch of the West (only without the melting). This is true. Why do you think you can’t get a straight answer when you ask "does this make me look fat?"
Let’s review this question. In my experience it can come into play on two types of occasions. The first is if you really are having doubts about your outfit. In which case the answer is one you can give yourself. If you have to ask, you ought to change.
So let’s say you ask your date, "Does this make me look fat?" If his answer in any way echoes your concerns (which presumably are related somewhere to the truth) then you’ll be upset because the thinks you’re fat. You get huffy and he gets scared because they were right about women scorned. He knows this. He’s not a big fan of scared. He’s going to avoid it.
Girls are scary. You know it, and I know it, and boys know it. But for the sake of sex, they are required to find a way around this. This is called lying. Under the circumstances, I would only call it fair.
-Miss Eliza
posted by Sarah Eliza @ 10:13 AM
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