Whenever something electronic breaks in our home, I always turn to Seymour to fix it. He’s grown up with an electronic device permanently attached to his hand. He has friends he has never met all the way over in Thailand and Estonia, and the like. Whenever the computer goes down, he has it back up and running in minutes. He picks up extra cash working with that “Geek Squad” group from time to time. And the Dollar manager is always asking him to fix the cable when it breaks down. Especially when it’s a free HBO weekend.

Fenwick never touches anything mechanical or electronic. He says it’s against his religion. HA! I know it’s because he grew up with hot and cold running servants who did everything for him, including turning the pages of his naughty magazines while he sat in the loo taking care of his burgeoning pubescent turgidness.

I’m OK with things to a point. I have no fear of pushing buttons and sliding levers until I either completely break whatever it is or electrocute myself. Sometimes I can actually fix something. But it’s hit and miss. Seymour tries to discourage me from jumping in with broken appliances or devices, especially ever since, once, I somehow auto tuned his ring tone to a Christian Hymn site. Who could have known that Jesus has spam?

In these modern times it’s hard to know where to turn when something breaks. It’s hard to know who to call, because whoever you call will tell you it’s not their issue. “It’s the phone company,” “It’s your internet provider,” “It’s your host server,” “It’s your software,” “It’s your hardware,” “It’s the fillings in your teeth.” Or sunspots. And all after you’ve spent the better part of two weeks on hold.

Well, hons, I say you are very lucky if you have someone in your home who knows how to fix things. If you don’t have someone, consider adoption.


Dear Mrs. Crabby,

We have Macs and PCs in our home. I’ve learned how to take care of most issues with them. When our kids’ devices crash, I have always been able to bring them back up. Unfortunately my husband has no talent whatsoever with devices and ends up sometimes taking the devices completely apart, only to void the warranty and render them impossible to put back together. Our kids just come to me now to fix things.

It’s good I can do this, but my husband gets his shorts in a knot over this and throws such a pouty hissy fit, that our kids and I have to resort to James Bond subterfuge to get things taken care of. The second Stan gets even a hint that something is broken, he gets a Dr. No gleam in his eye and walks around the house with the jewelers screwdriver stuck in his pocket, saying “Let me just have a look…”

It’s not only the computers. It’s the household repairs too. The plumber won’t even talk to Stan on the phone any more. He always says “Put Marie on, Stan,” which doesn’t go over very well.

It’s fine with all of us that Stan is a yutz with these things. He’s really good at other things. He makes a killer chocolate frosting. He grows prize-winning roses. And when he sews a button back on, it stays back on. But this other stuff is not at all his skill set.

The problem is that he gets so angry when he finds out I’ve fixed something, that it’s taking a toll on our romantic life. And now he’s spending more time away from home. I’m worried he’s looking for a girlfriend with broken appliances.

What should I do?


Marie, The Secret Power Tool,


Dear Marie,

Hon, how wonderful you’re good at those things. Your Stan needs to grow thicker skin. Here’s how you make this happen.

From now on, when anything breaks, do not fix it. Take it to the most expensive repair place in town and have them fix it. Then give Stan the bill. Tell him that since he has issues with your taking care of things and since he just makes things worse, you feel a third party might be less intimidating in successfully implementing the repairs.

Only when you tell him this, do so after you have fixed his favorite meal; are wearing a killer piece of lingerie; have spritzed yourself with “Come Do Me, Hon” perfume; and are reclining suggestively on your bed, while Barry White is singing in the background.

This will do a couple of things at least. It will confuse the living daylights out of him. Plus you will manage to deflect his displeasure to the third party. He will see you in an alluring light, with a satisfied tummy full of favorite foods. It’ll be like a free gift from Madame Whoopy!s House of Pleasure. He will eventually attach to you the additional value of being able to fix these things much less expensively. Men are wonderful creatures who can be managed with visceral tools such as food and sex and money. While we ladies are a bit more cerebral, needing ideas and sweet words and sparkly jewelry. Though, sometimes I swear, hon, that their way is the more truly rewarding. Until I see the next gorgeous sapphire, set in a pave of brilliant diamonds.

If this doesn’t work for you, let me know. We’ll have to implement Plan B. You only want to use Plan B as a last resort. It involves a bigger investment in leather corsets, spiked collars, whips and such. And you really don’t want to rent those things. 

Good luck, hon!

IB Crabby

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