Crystal is always here (except when she’s being a cougar about town, showing the young women of today how to grind up against the guys) to help answer your problems. Our agony aunt-cum-psychic knows best when it comes to problems…
Dear Crystal,
This is your publisher. As explosive as the first few chapters of your autobiography are, we really can’t print some of the anecdotes about your sexual escapades with celebrities. The defamation costs from the story about you, Tom Cruise and the male cast members from Cats would financially ruin us. Can you just tone it down a bit? Or at least make it more vague like “a certain well-known pint-sized Hollywood star, whose name I can’t divulge, used to enjoy dressing up as a dog and letting men dressed as cats pleasure him anally”?
Dear Trevor,
I thought it might come to this. It was the story about One Direction and the magnum of champagne wasn’t it? Talk about spin the bottle, I don’t think Zayn has been able to walk properly since. No wonder he quit. Have you heard Harry Styles’ new single too ;-)… Anyway, leave it with me and I’ll see what I can do.
Dear Crystal,
I’m scared my wife is going to rip my balls off, please help. I’ve been banging birds on Tinder for a couple of years now, it’s been awesome, but I accidentally charged my phone on her laptop and it synced all my contacts to hers. If the old ball and chain finds out I can kiss my testicles goodbye. Is there any way out of it?
Dear John,
I’m afraid you’re screwed. The only thing you can do is gradually move anything of value out of the house and into a safe storage facility so that when the volcano hits, you’ll at least have something to fall back on. You might want to store some sperm too, as your ability to create children could be cut short very soon.