Ask Barrelhouse

Welcome back to our newish, semi-regular feature, in which we help you fix your life by responding to your actual letters.*

Dear Barrelhouse,

My sister, "Lois," has been living in my house for the past six weeks. She just went through a nasty divorce and is trying to get back on her feet, and I'm happy to help. I've been so blessed in my own life, that I feel it's my Christian duty to minister to her in her time of need.

And for the most part she's a joy to have around. We kind of grew apart as adults -- she's more into the "rock an roll" lifestyle, while the closest I ever come to "rocking" or "rolling" is when I shake my hips a little -- in a nonsexual way, of course! -- during the opening hymn on Sundays (sometimes that new organist gets a bit jazzy for my taste, but I guess that's what the young generation likes).

Anywhoo, like I said, "Lois" is mostly a good houseguest, there's just one problem: the way she dresses. I'm no "prude," but I think some things (i.e. breasts and bottoms) are best left to the imagination. Sis doesn't seem to think so. She parades around the house in her sleeping garments some days until noon, and don't even get me started on what she wears when she goes "out on the town." I know she's an adult, and she can dress how she wants, but I've got two teenaged sons who are suddenly a lot more interested in family time. Come to think of it, my husband's been eating dinner at home a lot more often. What should I do?


Not a Prude

Listen, NOP, we hate to break this to you -- actually that's a lie, because we love breaking this shit to you -- but your sister is totally fucking your husband. Probably at least one of your teenaged kids, too, if not the both of them. What should you do about it? Short of hooking up a flux capacitator to a Delorean, the only option left is to beat ol' sis at her own game.

That's right, NOP: time to slut it up. You know that one thing your husband brings up sorta frequently, then laughs about and declares "gross" or "weird"? Here's a hint Heloise won't give you: he's dying to do it, and it's time to let him. You know that one place where you suspect your man wants to put his you-know-what? Time to let him put it there. It's the only way to save your marriage. Heck, you may even like it.

As for your kids, look at it this way: would you rather have little Johnnie and Jason banging the homecoming queen without protection, then having to marry her instead of living out their (your) dreams of becoming doctors or lawyers or pompadour'd preachers, or would you rather than rodger the holy hell out of their skeevy, barren-wombed aunt?

Yeah, we guess maybe you have a point about that one. But hey: boys will be boys!

*letters may not be actual

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