Ask Mindy: Beautiful Losers

Thursday, August 23, 2018

Ask Mindy

Readers, it’s that time again: time for another “Ask Mindy.” Welcome back to the world of Mindy Morals, the “first lady of feelings” from Alliance, Nebraska. How many roads must a man walk down, before you can call him a man? Mindy says six. In this installment, Mindy answers questions from readers who’ve lost something important.


Dear Mindy,

All my stuff is gone. My Ostrich leather jackets, my townhouses and condos, my credenzas—oh God, my credenzas! I’m bereft, and I don’t know what to do. (I’m probably headed to prison, too, but that’s not as big a deal to me.)

What do I do about the loss of all my sweet-ass possessions?



The Man with No Fort


Dear Fort,

When I was nine years old, I was absolutely obsessed with my stuffed animal collection. Many people forget this, but back in the ‘70s, years before Beanie Babies were even a twinkle in Ty Warner’s eye, the “Garden Gang” was the hottest trend in plush children’s toys. I can still remember all my little vegetable friends: Egbert the Eggplant, Cecil the Celery, Lil’ Lucy Lentil and my favorite, Suzy Snowpea. I used to love playing with them, imagining that I was a gardener helping them grow. “Drink your water, Suzy,” I would say, “or else you’ll blight!” Sometimes, I’d even stick their little vegetable ears in the outlet, so that the electricity could help them grow.

But, one day, something happened. It was the first day of third grade, and I was sitting in class. “Mindy,” my teacher said, “your mother’s here to pick you up.”

I was shocked. “There was a fire, Mindy. At the house,” she said when I saw her, practically hyperventilating.

“Is everybody okay?” I asked.

“Yes, yes,  we managed to contain it before there was any real damage. But, I don’t know how to say this, your toys…they were all incinerated. It seems there was some kind of electrical issue.”

When I realized that all my Garden Gangsters were gone, I cried and cried and cried. But then I realized something: I still had my family and friends. And as long as I had them, any material possessions that I had didn’t matter.

Remember, Fort, that though losing the things you care about can hurt, as long as you still have the people around you everything will be okay.


Dear Mindy,

I was recently on Wheel of Fortune. It’s my absolute favorite game show—I’ve watched religiously for over 30 years, since I was just a little girl in Canton, Ohio. Anyway, I was on the show, and things were going great. Pat loved my fact about myself—I run a little yarn store, and for my birthday my little ones got me a t-shirt that said “Bobbin Mama”—and Vanna was sooo nice.

But then everything went wrong. The category was Before & After, and the board looked like this “Ca_ K_ _ La_g_.” I was so excited that I solved the puzzle and, without really thinking, said “Cranky Lasagna.” Well, I was wrong—the correct answer was “Car Key Largo.”

I didn’t think it was that big a deal, and Pat was pretty nice about the whole thing. But I lost, and I’ll never get to go back on the show. I blew it! Even worse, I’ve become a meme, and everywhere I go people make fun of me. I went out to Bravo Cucina with the hubby last night, and our server said to me, “I’m sorry ma’am, but the chef told me to say that the pasta here is well-rested and agreeable. Is that a problem?”

I don’t know what to do!



Feeling Unfortunate


Dear Unfortunate,

Wow, not every day you meet a wheelhead in the wild! I’m a wheelhead too—or at least, I was one. I used to adore Wheel of Fortune—heck, if I could haved traded little Mindy Jr. away for just one spin, I probably would have. But then, all of a sudden, Chuck Woolery left the show. And in his place came Pat Lame-Hack. I hate everything about that man, from his dumb suits and ugly face to how bad he is at saying letters. “R?” “W?” Yeah Pat, how about you try actually doing your job? Today, Wheel of Fortune is a shadow of its former self, and Pat Sajak deserves to be brought before the Hague for crimes against humanity. Scratch that, for crimes against Hu-Vanna-ty.

That being said, I’m impressed you’ve managed to stick with the show, and I’m sure it was thrilling to be able to be on it. I don’t think you should be sad that you didn’t advance further—that’s just the nature of the game, and just to be part of it should be exciting enough.

I don’t know what to tell you about the mockery except to own it. Next time you’re at Bravo Cucina, why not order the Cranky Lasagna yourself? It’ll show that you’re not above poking fun at yourself. Sooner or later, all the hubbub will pass, so why not try making the best of it until then?


Dear Mindy,

My son disappeared. We were at the zoo several weeks ago, laughing at the funny monkeys and scary lions when suddenly he vanished. I looked everywhere for him, but I couldn’t find him. Dejected, I went home, convinced I would never see my boy again.

Well, flash forward to now. I went back to the zoo, hoping to retrace our steps, and who do I see inside the gorilla enclosure but my son! He’s wearing a loincloth, eating bananas off the trees and even going “Ooh ooh aah aah.”

“Percival,” I yelled at him. “Get out of that cage this instant! You’re not a monkey. You’re a little boy!”

But he refused. “I’m a gorilla now,” he said. “I’m with all my monkey friends now, and I don’t want to leave.”

As much as I hated to leave him there, I had no choice. I left the zoo, came home and wrote you this letter. How do I get my son back?



Too much Monkey Business


Dear Monkey,

Sometimes, our children make decisions we don’t agree with. But we have to accept them all the same. As much as you’d like your son to come back to the human world, his heart is with the gorillas, and that’s something you’ll have to learn to live with.


That’s it for this week, but Mindy is always taking questions. Need help solving your dilemma? Just email You just might read your answer in next week’s column.


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