YO VINNIE,
I went to this broad's house. She said she was about 5'6" and 145 pounds. I met her through Craigslist. Well when I showed up while she was 5'6", yes. That was true, she was not a nickel shy of 180. She had three cats, a bird complete with mountains of birdshit and bags of garbage in the kitchen. She started talking about me staying the night so I said I needed to go back to my car to get my bag. I did. And when I got to my car, I fled. I've been made to feel very guilty by everybody so I don't need the critique, I just need to know what's the best dine and ditch protocol? -- R. Sasso (by email)

WHO DO I LOOK LIKE? WHY, DEMI MOORE! WHY DO YOU ASK?

Dear Friend of the Cat Ladies: For some, online worlds open up grand vistas of possibilities and weave greater tapestries from life's meandering crossroads. For some, they just give you greater access to fat, fucked up lunatics. But dine and ditch strategems? Why not use our all time fave? Fall on the floor clutching your chest? Wait, wait, that won't work. You'd catch Hep C from her threadbare and moth-eaten throw rugs. So, um, what about starting a fire in her bathroom garbage can? Shit, then you'd have to GO in what's bound to be a criminal porcelain nightmare of neglect and pubic hair. Damn. Oh, oh,I got it: go back to your car to get your bag and fucking flee!!! Fuck. I AM good.