Dear Ms. Connie,

I hope you don’t mind my titling my letter. But it makes for more brevity regarding what I am about to confide to you. No this letter is not a political one moaning yet again about the Bushites and their crawfish bake at their ranch in Crawford, Texas. No it is not a moan about the loss of one bird in the hand for one in the bush either. In fact I want you understand the word, “bush” to be meant to be taken quite literally. I am really lost in the bush.

My young swain is gorgeous. He is every rice queen’s dream except for one slight abnormality. He has a serious case of crotch-afro going on. What I mean is that for some reason, he is as smooth and squeeky clean as one would expect of a gorgeous brown Asian youth whose parentage is Lao and Khmer with a delicate sprinkling of Burmese (although there was some suggestion suppressed by the family during my last visit, that someone from a distant branch of the famille, did a tour through the hills of Assam in Eastern India and seemed to have imported some genes from that troubled region into the family gene pool). But maybe I misinterpreted since the accusation came from an in-law who was having trouble with one of her mothers-in-law and used foul language in my presence in self-defence. The entire scene was extremely unfortunate and involved a number of relatives assaulting the relative in question and a lot of hairpulling ensued. But that is another story. I just brought it up because hair seems to be a family issue.

Anyway, I am writing you because you have been so patient with some of the egregiously silly correspondents (like that Scottish guy who castigated you for racial and sexist slurs many issues back - silly cretin) and I naturally assumed that you might be able to give me some advice on how to gently indicate to my paramour that this bush that shows no signs of diminishing in splendour is getting in the way of our boisterous lovemaking. One of my favorite activities is suckling my lovely who goes into absolute paroxysms of pleasure when I take his full length into my waiting gorge. Trouble is it is extremely offputting afterwards to be pulling pubes out of your teeth apres le repas. It has about as much allure as a glory hole in a gardening shed, where you know there is something in the foliage but are too overwhelmed by the plantlife to give a full botanical diagnosis.

What I am asking you in all your wisdom is, given that my darling is Thai and not particularly happy with the straight approach we Norte Americanos use to state our difficulties when the bus has made a wrong turn and plunged off the fucking bridge, should I simply be honest and say at an opportune moment with scissors at hand, Sweetness it’s time for a trim or Mommy Dearest is not going to be spending as much time down there as you seem to want? Please help me Ms. Connie. It’s difficult enough giving him a handjob these days. The other day I got so wrapped up in the up and down jerk, I got entangled in his rug and almost threw him across the room.

Yours truly,

Miss Anne Thrope

Dear Ms. Thrope:

Ms. Connie has always stood by her oft repeated edict: honesty is the best policy in dealing with these kinds of dilemmas which inevitably arise in cross-racial relationships. It would appear from Ms. Connie’s perspective, through her wide-angle bifocals which she has just donned to give full consideration of your problem, that that has to be the root of her advice: Be Honest. It is time to level with your Harry Suckbulb that hair is getting in the way. Tell him simply how much you love him. This can be done during your mutual bubblebath as the tendrils are floating so obviously between you threatening to entangle both of you in their netlike weave. Tell him how much you love placing is sweet rosebud in your mouth and feeling it leap with pleasure. Then because Thais fully understand comparisons to monkeys, say that the gorilla that has become an island of grim thatch floating on a sea of smooth chocolate velvet, would be some much prettier shaved. You could even suggest a mutual shave job and offer your own glistening pubes pink and nubile as a further enticement.

If you detect a reluctance, offer a weekend down in Hua Hin where there is a spa which readily offers waxjobs for a fee. Once you in the spa and have forked out megabucks for the treatment, your lovely will definitely not want to renege on the full offering especially if you wisely bribe the attendant to make the suggestion while your baby is floating in the jacuzzi. Don’t get the attendant to scream or anything when your big boy unveils is hairy bazooka. That might be counterproductive and drive your boy away from participation in the process.

Finally, if all of the above fails, Ms. Connie suggests leaving a copy of Sticky Rice on your coffee table next to your beard trimmer. The magazine should be pinned or marked so this letter is readily obvious. This of course presumes that your darling reads Ms. Connie faithfully every month. Good luck with your pruning. Hope you get him by the short ones.