Dear Moog: I’m Coveting Thine Neighbor

Posted: February 4, 2009 in Dear Moog, sex

It’s another time for an exciting episode of “Dear Moog”

Where you can count on receiving good, sound advice for any problem you might have.

You know…

…if you happened to also ‘cc’ “Dear Abby” on the letter.

Because if you only came here for actual help…

…you’re seriously fucked.

I am not responsible for any stupid sh*t you do to yourself or others as a result of taking any of my advice seriously. There, I think that covers it.

You’ve been warned.

Today’s letter comes from “iNDefatigable mjenks”

(yeah…I have no fucking clue what that is, either)

…from Crown of Thistles.

Indeflatable Hijinks (seriously…what the fuck is up with the name thing) writes:

Dear Moog:

I recently had a dream about plowing one of my friend’s hot wife.

I’m unsure what to do.

Should I:

a) ignore it and go on living my life

b) tell him about it and risk getting punched in the junk

c) tell HER about it, thus hoping she’ll act out my dreams and I can endanger our friendship by nailing his hot wife or…

d) tell others about it so that we can all snicker like teenagers whenever he or she (or both) are around?


Dirty Dreaming in North By God Carolina

Dear Indescribable Monkey Sex,

First off, I’ve completely given up on your name.

I don’t even want to know what it means.

Too many syllables. Anything longer than two syllables and I lose concentra…

…OOH! Caterpillar!

That’s what she said.


For example, Look at my name:


See that shit?



You have an “M” and a “g35” surrounding six letter “o”‘s.

(The extra “o” is for Savings!)

Clean that shit up. It’s fucking confusing.

K – let’s look at this letter…

..blah blah…plowing…

…blah blah….wife…

…blah blah…snickers.

I don’t like Snickers.

If I want something packed with peanuts, I’ll throw the crack whore on the corner an extra 10 spot to see if I can stuff a jar of Skippy up there.

Try it at home, kids!

So – let’s get this straight:

You had a dream about banging your friend’s ‘hot wife’ and you want to know what to do about it.


What a moral dilemma you go there, Indistinguishable Monkeyjunk.

This begs the question:

How hot is she and do you have any pictures?

A lot here depends on how hot she is.

Is she, like, Jessica Alba hot…or just Natalie Portman hot?

I mean, either one is worth getting smashed in the balls for…

…but I’m just trying to create the visual here while I masturbate.

(20 seconds later)

I need a nap.

Okay, let’s look at your options here:

a) ignore it

This will be impossible.

Every time you see her, this dream will come back to you.

As such, you will immediately visualize her again from the dream…

…stuffing the banana in your ass while she zaps your balls with the tazer gun through your Raggedy Ann outfit.


Was I not supposed to divulge that part of the letter?



b, c and d) tell him…tell her…tell others

I’d go ‘b’ and ‘d’ here.

I’d go with these two because you can’t spell ‘bed’ without ‘b’ and ‘d.’

You also can’t spell ‘boredom’ without them, either – which pretty much sums up the reaction of any woman I’ve ever had sex with.

“Um..yeah…I’m doing it right now!”

Women can be insensitive.

My simple solution:

1) Put on a cup
2) Tell the friend
3) feign pain when he punches you in the sack
4) Friend – out of anger – tells his wife
5) Friend’s wife thinks:


Wife sticks banana in your ass while tazering your balls in your Raggedy Ann outfit and shouting out “OH! OH MOOOOOG!”

She does this because she can’t pronounce “Indivisible Man Jenga”…or whatever your fucking name is.

7) Friends snicker

Done. Deal.

Sure, you may lose your friend.

But that’s why God invented crack whores.

They’ll be your friend on the cheap and never judge you, your stupid fucking Internet name thing you got going on…

…or your tazer-ball/banana-asshole fetish.

And they certainly won’t judge your peanut-butter-in-sphincter one.


Don’t ask me how I know this.

Moog out.

There you go! Yet another exciting episode!

I have a “Dear Moog” link on the top right of my page, or you can email me here.

Want bad advice? Want sh*tty answers?

You’ve come to the right place.

Drop me a line.

Moog out.


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