Just when you thought winter was over, a blast of cold air swishes up your ass and you wonder what's going on. Well just ask! Send me your questions to Dear.Daisy@sbcglobal.net or send it through the postal service to Dear Daisy c/o BOI Magazine, 3708 N. Halsted St., Chicago, IL 60613. Now let's see what is on the minds of our friends.

Dear Daisy,
How come whenever you mention masturbation involving guys you always imply it has to be done with hand lotion and a paper towel? What are other ways of doing it? (I prefer wearing a
condom so as to not get things too messy). Thanks for your input.

Signed,
sticky

Dear Sticky,
There's about as many methods to lathering up the monkey as there are men doing it; soap in the shower, humping a pillow, rapping it firmly against a steel pole. Heck, there was even a rumor floating around my high school that a classmate had gone a couple rounds with the milking machine on his parents' dairy farm. Kinda makes you think twice before you down your next glass of creamy, white milk, doesn't it? Yum!

Dear Daisy,
I've watched a watch. Have you ever clocked a clock?

Signed,
Rusty

My Dearest Rusty,
I can always count on you for a challenging query, and what a timely question in light of the recent switch to daylight savings time. I don't know about you but that Sunday when we change time always has sort of this freakish, carnival side show gone horribly wrong kind of feeling to it. Sure, I know time is an arbitrary construct but I can't help but feel that it really is an hour earlier than what our clock friends are telling us. My stomach has its own time table which is much more absolute than this non-corporeal Greenwich Mean Time everyone crows about. My stomach knows it's time to eat at the same time every day, whether it's noon or the daylight savings time influenced 11 am.

But it's more than stomachs measuring time. You can see time in people's faces, in the wrinkles or lack of them. In their expressions, how they do their hair and what they wear. We are nothing more than clocks measuring time and in that sense, yes, I have clocked a clock.

Dear Daisy,
Are you the Mafia?

Signed,
The Commissioner

Dear Commish,
No. I'm not. But I like Italian food.

Dear Daisy,
Just who in hell do you think you are.....Confucius???

Signed,
John

Dear John,
Oh, no. I'm no Confucius. I'm not even Jesus. What I am is...
I'm a bitch
I'm a lover
I'm a child
I'm a mother
I'm a sinner
I'm a saint
I do not feel ashamed
I'm your hell
I'm you dream
I'm nothing in between.

You know you wouldn't want it any other way.