Editor’s Note: This piece was originally published December 3, 1971 and was a follow up to an earlier Dear Lotta column. The author is simply marked as “Lotta.” This piece originally ran in Who Knows, Arapahoe Community College’s student paper at the time. 

Yes sir, boys and girls, as nauseating as it may seem, Lotta is back, and she’s got some more letters from gullible readers — you’re slipping kids. I’ve only got 200 this week. Here are some little gems I’ve selected kor your reading pleasure (if you think you’re going to be ill, just find the nearest trash can — there are plenty around. I trip over at least three of them every day.

Dear Lotta:

I can’t seem to figure out what’s with this chick. Maybe I’d better explain. When I first met Freda, she was a really sweet chick. Since then, she started hanging around with the gang at Pat’s Twist-O-Creme, and now every other word is 3/4$!!+($!. Maybe I’m behind the times, but i think that kind of language is crude and degrading and unfeminine. I want to find some way of breaking her of this without spoiling our relationship. Can you help?

Virgin Ears

Dear Virg.:

What !+!(1/8!+ relationship, you male &3/4–5/8!+'($-!! chauvenist pig! Don’tyou ever +!:1/4 3/8 1/2 +!$ call me again!!

Dear Lotta:

I know friends are hard to come by, but how do you get rid of one? THis may sound ridiculous, but to me its a really serious problem. I met Patty fall quarter, and she’s really a nice chick, believe me. I can take it when she carries my books for me, throws her coat over mud puddles so I can walk over them, and washes my car every day, and the paint job she did in my apartment is great, but I just can’t take her hanging onto my ankles when I’m trying to get to class. It’s getting ridiculous! Help!

Late for Class

Dear Late!

Maybe you should try wearing your after shave on your face.

Dear Lotta:

I keep getting these horrible phone calls from what must be a just filthy old man. He just waits fo rme to answer, then he breathes obscene things into the receiver. If I hang up he just calls back, and then my mother answers, and it’s very difficult to pry her away from the phone. I’m afraid she’s going to run off with him or something. Please, Lotta, what can I do?

Soon to be an Orphan

Dear Orphan:

That sounds like the SOB that’s been calling my office for the last month. He’s already run off with three of my secretaries and damn it all, good secretaries are hard to find!

Dear Lotta:

I’ve been making obscene phone calls for two years now, and I’ve developed a serious problem. Every time I call one of these dames, they end up meeting me somewhere. Maybe I’m getting these obscene calls — this whole thing is getting to me!

Exhausted

Dear Exhausted:

Upon receiving your letter, Willard, our proofreader, dashed into my office screaming with delight. He is wondering if you sell franchises or territorial rights.

P.S. There’s going to be a vacant spot in the proofreading department soon. It’s just perfect for a spitfire like you, sweetie.

Willard

If you’re still looking for some excitement, just keep those calls, er, cards and letters coming folks, and just hope they get printed — Lotta does have some discretion.

Just drop those gems in the Who Knows mailbox in the Student Activities office, 5900 So. Curtice. I’ve had three +!-$1))_!-&!+$- Lotta’s Box’s ripped off from the student center by perverts already. What a thankless job!

Lotta