The other night I went out for a few drinks with some friends and my roommate told me to be home by a certain time for dinner because she was making some lasagna. But I think I may have spoiled my dinner by eating a little bit at the bar. Should I confess this to her?

Didn’t you heed the warning by your roommate, who I will now refer to as “mom?” If you were told a huge dinner was being prepared especially for you, and then you had to go and spoil it by indulging into the temptation of food by a few friends of yours, you had better explain this to “mom.” All “mom” wanted was a nice sit-down meal with you, and you had to blow it like that. Why did you have to disappoint her? Can’t you comprehend she prepared all day for you and most likely made the pasta from scratch. All that hard work went down the drain because you, sir, could not even adhere to a simple time structure. Now, you march right into that room, look “mom” in the eye and say, “I’m sorry for spoiling my dinner. I promise in the future I will be a better son (roommate) and listen to you.” I mean, if you can’t even do that, I sure as heck love a good home cooked meal. Mom, I could really go for some roast beef with some au jus on the side.

This labor day I was in charge of the grill for my family gathering. It is kind of a big rite of passage in my family for the father to pass down the grilling duties as we come of age. Anyway, I think I blew it this weekend because after I dropped a hotdog on the ground, I just put it back on the grill. Should I confess or go with the lie?

Go with the lie. The grill is masculine. The grill is pride. The grill is love. If your dad saw a hot dog had fallen on the ground and all you did was put it back on the grill then I can see the words coming out of your father’s mouth, – “I have no son.” You will most likely be cut out of the will. Your name will be omitted from family stories, even the one of you being born. All the pictures of you in the house will be replaced with pictures of Ryan Seacrest (America’s son) because he is more of a man than you are at the moment. All you had to do was hold on to that hotdog and you blew it. I wouldn’t want you in my family either. You are definitely a disgrace to those who have mastered the grill. So if you want to be accepted as a “man,” scratch your privates, stand in front of the grill and say “I’m thinking about putting a new fuel injector in my pickup today.” I don’t know. I think that’s what real men say around a grill.

Talking to my boyfriend is like talking to a rock. He has horrible communication skills and I usually end up angry at the end of our conversations. I try my hardest to be a good girlfriend, but sometimes I just can’t. What do you think about this?

Men are not great communicators? Now I’ve heard everything. He obviously doesn’t know how to handle a diamond like you. Put into practice your girlfriend executive privilege and let him know who’s boss. Take away some of his favorite objects. Is he a big beer fan? Tell him no more beer. Does he like late-night snacks? Clear out his refrigerator. Of course this will get you nowhere since he will dump you on the spot using his boyfriend executive veto. There are no checks and balances in a relationship. You’ll just end up being the one who got away, but hey, at least you got a sandwich out of the veto. That’s got to be better than caring for a Neanderthal boyfriend. Sorry if I offended any cavemen. I know you guys are still around.

Views expressed in this humor column do not necessarily reflect the Northern Star or its staff. Send comments or questions to [email protected].