Dear Revolving Door:

Imagine my surprise when I logged into Facebook recently and my news feed was chock-a-block with photos from my “friend’s” stomach stapling after-party, and I wasn’t in any of them. And why wasn’t I in any of them? Because I wasn’t even invited! And I’m the one who told her she should have the surgery in the first place!

Of course my “friend” didn’t post the photos herself. It was a few other so-called “mutuals” who got their hands dirty, tagging her and splattering her all over Facebook like all those annoying ads lately for skinny pills.

So should I confront my “friend” and express my feelings of hurt and confusion and basically WTF, or just leave passive-aggressive comments on all the photos? Like, guess I’ll never know what it was like to bitch about the appetizers being liquefied just so Darlene could enjoy them. Or, would I have been so rude to attend with an exposed mid-riff when the guest of honor’s stretch marks are probably visible from outer space?

“Friend”less In Fitchburg

Dear “Friend”less In Fitchburg:

Imagine your surprise when you logged into Facebook recently and your news feed was chock-a-block with photos from your “friend’s” stomach stapling after-party, and you weren’t in any of them. And why weren’t you in any of them? Because you weren’t even invited! And you were the one who told her she should have the surgery in the first place!

Of course your “friend” didn’t post the photos herself. It was a few other so-called “mutuals” who got their hands dirty, tagging her and splattering her all over Facebook like all those annoying ads lately for skinny pills.

So should you confront your “friend” and express your feelings of hurt and confusion and basically WTF, or just leave passive-aggressive comments on all the photos? Like, guess you’ll never know what it was like to bitch about the appetizers being liquefied just so Darlene could enjoy them. Or, would you have been so rude to attend with an exposed mid-riff when the guest of honor’s stretch marks are probably visible from outer space?

 

Dear Revolving Door:

My boss has this annoying habit of looking past me when I’m talking to him and following up on the stuff he asked for, like the quarterly earnings report for the IceVise and whatever.

My friend Crystal in HR told me he doesn’t have a medical condition or anything and I’ve never seen him do it to anyone else in the office. And it’s not like I’m the one with a medical condition, like elephantitis, or a soul patch. I’m not even a mouth-breather. But something weird’s going on. How do I confront somebody who won’t even look me in the eye?

Invisible Man

Dear Invisible Man:

Your boss has this annoying habit of looking past you when you’re talking to him and following up on the stuff he asked for, like the quarterly earnings report for the IceVise and whatever.

Your friend Crystal in HR told you he doesn’t have a medical condition or anything and you’ve never seen him do it to anyone else in the office. And it’s not like you’re the one with a medical condition, like elephantitis, or a soul patch. You’re not even a mouth-breather. But something weird’s going on. How do you confront somebody who won’t even look you in the eye?

 

Dear Revolving Door:

My grandkids from my son’s marriage don’t seem to understand it’s the polite thing when someone gives them a gift to send a thank-you card afterwards, even if it’s a month later. I would love a homemade card with their crayon scribbles all over it (as would my husband Jerry if he weren’t deceased), but it’s bad enough that right now I’d settle for their mother writing their names in a store-bought card with a nice sentiment already printed inside.

I’d say something to my daughter-in-law if I knew she wouldn’t take it the wrong way and start “forgetting” to invite me over to Thanksgiving, and my son being so busy lately at the macaroni plant, I’m hesitant to bring it up with him. Should I address it casually in conversation with his wife’s parents, see if they receive thank-you cards?

Gosh, I don’t want you to think I don’t forgive them every time another birthday rolls around and they clear shelf space in the play room for yet another toy from Nanna Beryl, while my sad little mailbox only knows bills, coupons for something called Black Angus, and my Widow’s Digest. I do love my only grandkids to death and squeeze them just so tight tight tight whenever I get to see them!

But I worry about their future if they don’t learn these things now. What should I do?

Grandma In A Pickle

Dear Grandma In A Pickle:

Your grandkids from your son’s marriage don’t seem to understand it’s the polite thing when someone gives them a gift to send a thank-you card afterwards, even if it’s a month later. You would love a homemade card with their crayon scribbles all over it (as would your husband Jerry if he weren’t deceased), but it’s bad enough that right now you’d settle for their mother writing their names in a store-bought card with a nice sentiment already printed inside.

You’d say something to your daughter-in-law if you knew she wouldn’t take it the wrong way and start “forgetting” to invite you over to Thanksgiving, and your son being so busy lately at the macaroni plant, you’re hesitant to bring it up with him. Should you address it casually in conversation with his wife’s parents, see if they receive thank-you cards?

Gosh, you don’t want me to think you don’t forgive them every time another birthday rolls around and they clear shelf space in the play room for yet another toy from Nanna Beryl, while your sad little mailbox only knows bills, coupons for something called Black Angus, and your Widow’s Digest. You do love your only grandkids to death and squeeze them just so tight tight tight whenever you get to see them!

But you worry about their future if they don’t learn these things now. What should you do?