YO VINNIE,
I couldn't spend the night with my broad the other night. And then some fag called her on the phone and started Oprahing her about how she was "too beautiful to be spending Friday night alone." And so she calls me back and pre-notifies me of her intent to go out and get banged by members of the local football franchise whose hotel she happened to be familiar with because "no WAY am I spending tonight alone!" Then she hung up the phone. Suggestions? -- H.J. (by email)

IT'S FOR YOU.

Dear Hojohowicz: Oh. I see. It's the old causal reality hold 'em poker in the ass tournament. The one where her virtue is what we're calling and raising, and crapping out is what happens when she's been sausaged by RANDY MOSS?

Perfect.

My advice to you in this instance comes from the mouth of the immortal genius dwarf Bushwick "Motherfuckin'" Bill who was once quoted as saying to everyone and no one in particular:

"You gotta let a ho be a ho."

Goddamned right. Any man pulling up a chair to a table where what's won or lost is her willingness to pretzel you in the name of advice given her by her girlfriends, gay friends, or player hating "male" friends is already running into that perennial Vegas byway: Loser's Row. Which is somehow always right around the corner from Easy Street.

And if you yield EVEN ONCE to this request to stop her before she fucks again, you'll be jiz toweling it off all over town.

So, have a drink. Relax. Take your shoes off. Call up another ho. Several in fact. Since it's a proven fact of nature that all ho's are crazy and that your bestest guarantee to a full and healthy life is rotating the cycle so that fewer of them are going crazy less rather than more of the time.

And ENJOY yourself.

Very goddamned simple.