I’ve certainly not been at a loss for words – or tweets – since I’ve returned from my self-imposed (sorta) exile… even during those dreaded moments of downtime.
Unfortunately, these observations land me in hot water when VampireLover scans my twitter feed…
VL: (In a sing-songy, slightly school marmish tone) Hey, boy…
ME: (Detecting her tone and preparing my self for a tongue-lashing of the negative variety.) Yes, sweetie?
That never works, by the way.
VL: I’m just looking at your Twitter, pookie, and I noticed this…
And so she pointed my tweet out to me and very carefully studied my face as I re-read it, hoping to see some sign of guilt.
ME: Yeah.. so?
Guilt is overrated. I don’t like it so I don’t allow myself to experience it.
ME: Yes, hookers. So?
VL: You’re writing about hookers now?
ME: I’ve always written about hookers at the hotel. Of all the things I could be doing with hookers I would think you’d be glad I’ve chosen writing.
VL: You can’t afford to do anything else with them anyway!
ME: That’s painfully true but I’ll never stop writing about them. They’re too fascinating. Muses come in all shapes and sizes. Just like hookers.
VL: No to me. I’d never be interested in a hooker.
ME: What if he looked like a vampire?
VL: Do you really want the answer to that?
After a nanosecond of pondering.
ME: I love you.
VL: Yeah, yeah.. Butt Boy.
Ours is a complicated relationship.