Editor's note: From time to time, Blaine will answer questions of general interest submitted by loyal readers. No question will be considered too hard for him to answer. Don't believe it? Try to stump him! Send your questions by email to blaineparadise@gmail.com or as a comment at the end of one of his blog posts.
Dear Pickin' Blaine's Brain,
How do you get spaghetti stains out of underwear? I have gotten spaghetti stains in my white cotton underwear.
(signed) Zar
Dear Zar,
You know, they say you can tell a lot about a feller's general level of intelligence by the type of questions he asks, and I'll have to be honest with you-- this is one of the better questions I've received lately. What you are askin' me is a question that has pretty much perplexed mankind since the invention of spaghetti and that drippy red sauce that goes along with it. Now, I'll have to admit that dolin' out laundry tips ain't really what I normally do on account of it's the littly lady here at the ranch who does everyone's (me and the hired hands) clothes out on the back porch every Monday (usin' the fancy wash machine I spoiled her with on her 17th birthday back in '53). So I can't really speak to your question other than relate to you the general information I got by researchin' the back of the Biz box. But I'll go you one better, and that is by tellin' you how to prevent findin' yourself in this same predicament again in the future. Now, you know I'm pretty savvy about a lot of things, but it don't take no Einstein to figure this out. Basically, you got to stop eating spaghetti in your underwear, seein' as how you're just askin' for trouble if you do. It's best to just go ahead and take off all your clothes before you sit down and eat, and then you don't have to worry about a thing, except for the weird looks your wife might be givin' you, especially if you're havin' company over for dinner. But it's sure a lot easier later when you're hosin' tomato sauce off your body in the back yard than it is to try to launder it out of any sort of delicate, white fabric like your underwear. Got it! Good! I got time for one more question.
Dear Pickin' Blaine's Brain,
I need your advice about whether or not I should get married. You see, I'm in my 20's, I'm a recent college graduate with no school loans to pay off (I was on 100% scholarship), and I have an unusually-high-paying job as a photographer taking pictures of young, scantily-clad female models for a popular men's magazine. I own my own condo in a high-rise building in downtown Austin, as well as another one that I use seven or eight times a year in Las Vegas. I own three vehicles: a Lamborghini Countach, a Ford Mustang, and a Humvee that I use to pull my custom-made Ranger bass boat. I've been told that I am very good-looking, and I've never had any trouble picking-up wild and crazy UT coeds at the many popular nightclubs I frequent down on 6th Street. Lately, though, I've been feeling like something is missing in my life. The girls I find myself with just seem to want to do nothing but party and have a good time, with no strings attached. But something in the back of my mind is telling me that I should find one nice girl to settle down with, someone who will keep me grounded, someone with whom I could spend all my free time, and with whom I could have a bunch of kids. I don't know, but that just sounds great to me. What do you think?
(signed) Hungering for a Meaningful Relationship
Dear Hungerin' for a Meanin'ful Relationship,
I... I... uhhh....
Editor's note: Blaine was apparently unable to finish writing his response to the last question before the deadline. His wife informs us she last saw him stumbling away from his typewriter with a sick look on his face, heading for the bathroom.
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