EST. May 2000 (AD)


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DEAR MAGS/DAGS: Please help me settle a wager with my fiancé, Darryl. What is the appropriate number of engagement parties for a bride and groom to have? Darryl says only one, but I think it should be as many as to suit the couple (three, four, depending on subgroups like family, friends, co-workers, etc.) Please help a reader out! I have a pedicure riding on this! If Darryl wins, he gets a new telescope.


MAGS: This reminds me of the time I was asked to star in two different reality shows! One had me competing to be the sex interest of a character actor with narcolepsy, while the other had me fighting for my din-din on a desert island. These are the choices we have to make in life. It's so necessary to follow our hearts down the stairs and out the door, no matter where we end up when our hearts hail a cab. No matter what the meter reads when our hearts are too drunk to remember the name of a street that rhymes with "Fancy". Never forgetting that our hearts are the reason we have a smeared cocktail napkin with maybe an address or a hotel name plus a cute chimp doodle on it in our pocket...because our hearts were following someone or something somewhere!

You are probably wondering if I ever made it to Tom Clancy Street. You are probably curious about what happened to my heart. I think it's still in here, behind bones and brunch. I had waffles. Do you like waffles? Oh, and I didn't even get to telling you about my reality show choice! Long story short, I ate bugs. You think I chose the island show, don't you? Well, you are not right.

DAGS: Men only think about one thing at a time (most often, Sabrina in 3B, that sniveling little AEROBICS INSTRUCTOR. Who does aerobics anymore, anyway? And what does he mean she's so "ladylike"? Oh, you're just friends? Whatever, real women do yoga. Real women take spin classes. I should so send my husband spinning, but that wouldn't be ladylike would it? Dagmar Hewlett is a lady. Dagmar Hewlett is a columnist. Dagmar Hewlett is a Lady Columnist.)

Whatever, talking about myself in the third person is still waaaaaay cooler than aerobics. But I will put my problems aside, to help you with yours. HOW'S THAT FOR LADYLIKE?

No one needs a telescope. If you are unfortunate enough to have one taking up space in your home, you aren't about to go out and get another. Pedicures are an entirely different situation. It's not like you're going to get one pedicure and go: "I'm good! No more pedicures for me, ever!" It's simply NOT done.

Engagement parties are like pedicures. Have as many as you desire. Telescopes are for nerds and should not be encouraged. Plus, who wants a husband with actual hobbies? He's supposed to revolve around you, Sunshine, and certainly doesn't need any space age equipment to accomplish that task!

DEAR MAGS/DAGS: As a newlywed (November 22, 2008! Woooooooo!) I am curious about holiday advice for those of us with limp lettuce in the wallet, if you know what I mean.


MAGS: I do not know what you mean. This is either Sex Advice Code or I-Am-In-A-Science-Cult-And-Can't-Get-Out Code.

Maybe it's Knock-Knock Joke Code? Who's there? Who's there? Who is there?

Oh, is it Salad Code, perhaps? Vinaigrette! Salad Spinner or Salad Shooter! Apple Cider Vinegar! Cobb! Tongs! I don't believe I've cracked it yet.

Well, congratulations on newly wedding and all that, I guess. But if your salad really is salad, then it doesn't belong in your wallet, silly-beans! It belongs in a bowl on the table that you are either under or dancing on. This is how we make the holidays Surefire Salad Sexy!

DAGS: The women in my family have a saying that we pass down to each generation. That saying is: "Gifts? For Men? Don't be a dumb stupid moron!"

You know whom you should look out for during the holidays? The person wearing your clothing right now (except if that person is someone you lent clothing to. That doesn't apply.)

Look, the holidays are about men spending lots of money on ladies. Did you ever hear of Mrs. Claus buying gifts for Santa? Of course not! She's not stupid! She didn't ride in from out of town on the back of some reindeer. So what does she do? She bakes and intimidates the elves and listens to Santa's ridiculous stories about his ice fishing trips. She puts up with his fat man snoring and his North Pole chapped lips. Any money she could be spending on Santa, she socks away in a Snowy Day Fund, otherwise known as In-The-Event-That-I-Am-Ever-Left-For-A-Young-Nubile-Rockette.

They call it the Battle of The Sexes because it is just that, a filthy all-out WAR! But don't smear war paint on your face just yet...for now we duke it out with snowballs. Have a great holiday and all that, oh comrade in arms. Don't buy anything I wouldn't buy!

Mags' new pamphlet arrives just in time for the holiday season! Part advent calendar, part top shelf liquor guide, part testimonial about guys named Nick and Kris; it will certainly get you in the mood. With a title like Recession Proof My Fur-Trimmed Santa Thong, that $7.99 will fly down your chimney. I mean, fly from your wallet…but then the pamphlet will fly down your chimney. Oh, whatever.

Mags is Maggie "Wild" Childes: Mags has never been married. She has however, dated married men, some prior to their nuptials. Thus, she knows a lot about the wedding planning process.

Dags is Dagmar Hewlett: Dags had her own wedding three years ago, but that's not going to prevent her from planning yours.

©2008 Christina Delia