shut your mouth! it’s ask caroline wednesday!

OMG. I have been so stressed out all day long. My real job and life kept me so fucking busy and all I could think about was Ask Caroline Wednesday. So, I got a lot of questions. I’m sure it was all the guilt I dished out, but whatever. I decided to choose four for tonight. So, drum roll please…

Dear Ask Caroline,

What is your opinion/stance/feeling about the smell of your mate?  Do you think it is critical that you like/are attracted to the smell of your mate’s skin if you are to enjoy a long lasting relationship? I don’t mean a situation where you are put off by it – like really bad B.O., but a situation where you might not have a strong opinion or not particularly drawn to it/crave it.

Is it all about sex or is there some cosmic connection you have with folks when the ‘smell thing’ is in a good place?


Smells Like Love

Dear Smells Like Love,

Your question could not be more timely.

First of all, I love me a good smelling man. It was one of my favorite things about living in Europe–delicious smelling men everywhere. The black man is obviously the flag bearer of the scented man. I can sniff out a black man from a thousand paces. Though the hubs does have this one spot on his neck that smells so good I sometimes forget my name. Nom nom nom.

But I can’t help but feel like I’ve never loved the “smell” of a man. His scent? His skin mixed with soap? Totally. But just naturally lovin’ how they smell? Something about that reminds me of my dad coming in from mowing the lawn on a Saturday, grass and dirt sticking to his calves, smelling exactly like a dead baby. I am so grossed out by sweaty people, especially sweaty hair. (Which reminds me, there is a whole ‘nother post about women who blow their sweaty hair dry at the gym. OMFG. I’m throwing up in my mouth just thinking about it.)

So to answer your question, nah. Any man can be made to smell delicious. Which brings me to my timely story…

The hubs and I have a house guest. A delicious black man, voice smooth as honey, wears artsy graphic t-shirts, hair like Lenny in his hot stage, is sleeping on our couch. All of that I can get past. What’s tempting me to leave the hubs? Egyptian Musk.


This crude little bottle of oil is making me crazy. It’s soft, almost soapy smelling, but with a hint of something darker, manlier. I’m afraid he is going to wake up in the middle of the night and catch me standing over him like a creeper. Licking my lips. Caressing him like a baby bunny.

I don’t even think I’m attracted to our house guest, I’m attracted to his Musk. And it’s gonna put me over the edge.

My advice to you, go and buy a scent you love. Go to Sephora and fall in love, then go find a man. Actually, buy two scents. Wait to give him the second til you’re sure you like him. No use wasting a perfectly good smell on a douche bag.

You’re welcome.



Dear Ask Caroline,

Exes on Facebook – where is the line? Is a teen high school romance on level with a summer fling that ended years ago? And if you didn’t have sex, does it count? What if you want to be friends to stalk them? Is this cheating?


Socially Loveable

Dear Socially Loveable,

Puhlease. I think I have five or six hundred Facebook friends and I’m positive there are less than twenty people on the planet that I like. I’ll give you a second to do that math…

Nonetheless, though, the Facebook thing is such a pain in the ass. What about clients? Worse, what about those dumb mother fuckers who friend you after an interview? (True story.) Who does that? Ms. Post could have done us all a favor and not keeled over before Facebook reared it’s ugly face. (And her daughter doesn’t cut it.) We are desperately in need of some FB etiquette.

Here’s my two cents, which is what you’re paying for. Friend ’em. I once made the mistake of doing a Facebook inventory. I decided I was going to weed out all those periphery friends and ex-boyfriends. I don’t know what I was thinking. Those are exactly the kind of people I need access to in order to make me feel better about myself. Now I have to go back and re-friend them. (I’m certain that there is a psychologist somewhere reading this and gouging himself in the eye with a toothbrush.)I’ll probably have to make up some story about how someone hacked my Facebook account. Goddamnit.

The added bonus of friends you don’t like is circumventing the Facebook privacy standards. If you can find a friend of a friend of a friend of a boyfriend, you can loophole your way to viewing pictures of his wedding to the fat chick with the fug bridesmaids. All without anyone ever knowing.

As for sex. Who cares. Sex is just another way of saying hello. Did you kiss on the mouth? That’s when we have a problem.

Stalk away. Stalk away.




Dear Ask Caroline,

Aside from keeping Greek yogurt and almonds handy at all times, how can I better handle my food cravings?


Moderate Mollie

Dear Moderate Mollie,

Well, let’s see. Today I ate:

pb toast with banana

a slice of pizza


two chocolate chip cookies

half a soft pretzel

two beers



Sounds like a well balanced diet for someone WHO IS IN A CAST AND CANT EXERCISE FOR FOUR WEEKS. Additionally, my motto for the middle seventeen years of life was “Have your cake and throw it up too.”

So, good question.

You could try taping mantra to your desk. (Although I’ve found it’s difficult to remember they are there when you intentionally stack folders on them.) You could also try chewing gum.

I personally like to go the water method. I play a game where I drink so much water in a day that I am too busy getting up to pee to even think about food.

I also like to go on Facebook and look at all the people from high school that I didn’t like who are still really thin. That usually does the trick. The only side effect is the crippling depression. Which is manageable.

Hope that helps,



Dear Ask Caroline,

Whose idea was it to put an ‘S’ in the word ‘lisp’?



Dear Bearskies,

A goddamned mother fucking genius. One who likely doesn’t believe in a god.



Email your questions to, subject line “Ask Caroline” and I’ll use my vast brain to help you.