It’s easy to avoid drama when you’re smug.
Ever notice how it’s always the people with sex partners telling the lonely people to quit trying so hard? Telling them to quit obsessing over finding love?
I promise not to tell you that. Even though I’m complacent and cosy with my boyfriend now, I remember how it was before. I won’t take him for granted, and I won’t give you annoying advice.
candy ass
Today I was thinking about guys who call other guys “candy ass”, seemingly as an insult.
I’ve decided that guys who do that are closeted homosexuals. If you call a guy a candy ass, ostensibly because he’s more sensitive/ vulnerable/ girly than you think he should be, then what you’re really saying is, “I think your ass is sweet.”
You’re saying, “Despite my outward show of disgust, your sensitivity/ vulnerability/ girliness has caught my attention. Your ass is sweet and I would like to taste it, if my family hadn’t raised me to be such a homophobe.”
Think about it.
“Do you feel like I do?”
No, Peter Frampton, I don’t feel like you do, because I can’t afford your quality of drugs.
But I do feel good. I’m high on life and/or Jesus. On hot dogs, maybe. Oh, I know… on the fact that I just got my book advance check. Woo hoo!
Don’t fear the beeper.
If y’all call 713-335-3443 to hear me read from my book and y’all want to leave me a message (because you know that I’m lonely and my ego is frail,) be advised that the beep at the end comes very abruptly. Or so I hear. Prepare yourself for it to occur right after I say, “Once again, Her Majesty’s kingdom was safe. For now.”
Okay? You only have five more days to do this. Then they’ll switch the tape to another writer’s stuff.
Thanks to everyone who called, whether you left me a message or not, whether you like my writing or not. I love all of you. Especially the ones who just gasped a little after the beep and then clunkily hung up the phone.
