Three Imaginary Girls

Seattle's Indie-Pop Press – Music Reviews, Film Reviews, and Big Fun

{Let Rachel Flotard of Visqueen take the sting out of your heart. Send your love advice questions her way at [email protected].}


Dear Rachel –

I get thirsty when my boyfriend touches my nipples in any way. Why?

Tits McGee




Dude, I'm not a miracle worker.

Something is triggering your shit. No medical reason* to become dryer than a Christian frat funnel when Jebodiah rolls the girls around. Perhaps you're trying to avoid having advanced sexy time by running to the cooler every six seconds. Hey honey! Nice moves but I am PUH-ARCHED!

Tits, I hate to break this to you, but you may be repressed. It's really not a bad place to kick it, actually. Lots of other people with absolutely no problems.

*please realize that I don't fuckin know that.



Could you do me a huge favor? I have this buddy, let's call her Rhoda, who sent you a love advice question about a certain part of her anatomy. Can you answer that question, and try to make it really scientific sounding, like quote really old and obtuse articles in the Journal Lancet or the Journal of the American Medical Association, or maybe invent a doctor or expert in the field and pretend to have interviewed him?

I'll help write it if you want.

Rhoda and I thank you!


I did you one better, Joe. I interviewed some cows.

RF: So, you're cows.
C: Moo.
RF: When Farmer Fred logs on for a tank of donut juice with his Acme Suck Bot Cat O' Nine Tails, does that make you thirsty or pissed off?
C: Moo.
RF: Right, and when you looked that shit up in Popular Mechanics and/or The New Zoo Revue, were you surprised that your condition was total bull? (big laughs)
C: Moo-oo. Moo ma moo moo meee mee moo, moo, moo. Nay.
RF: There you have it Joe. Shut the fuck up and Moo.




{When she's not providing solace for the lovelorn, Rachel can be seen and heard playing for her band, Visqueen. But don't let that intimidate you! Send your love woes her way!}