Page 12 of Hey Girl
“Wudafukdowahnn,” he grumbles groggily.
Oops. Forgot about the time difference.
“Hey Ron,” I greet cheerily, leaning against the doorway of Leo’s studio while he places cellophane over my panther’s brand-new head. “I wanted to see if I could get the contact information for that graphic designer you set us up with -”
“No.”
“Come on.” I draw it out. “I just want to ask her a question.”
“Her contact info is on the paperwork. If I hear you sent her a dick pic or worse, you’re spending the next event in a non-swivel chair facing the corner.”
Gasp!
“I’ll be on my best behavior, Sir!” Seriously, though, he thinks I’d send any woman an unsolicited dick pic like a goddamn sex criminal? I think he and I need to have words. I’m not that much of a jackass.
“Meh,” is all I hear out of him before he hangs up.
Rebecca
Holy shit,I’m up late. But who cares, I’ve been clocking some great hours fueling up on confidence in the form of talking to people without hyperventilating or stuttering. And not only that but telling them what I really think.
Don’t worry, I only drop hard knowledge with immeasurable repressed snark to the people who are openly being assholes, and I take great joy from handing them their asses. It’s… uplifting.
Too bad it’s a temporary high that can’t follow me out my front door.
I’m in my favorite Reddit forum where people share their anecdotes of entitled family members, jealous partners, evil stepsiblings, and deadbeat in-laws, and have just left a hefty response on some dude’s post about how he’s thinking about breaking up with his fiancée because she’s been gaining weight.
I kept my response to two paragraphs, because that nitwit didn’t deserve any more of my brain power, but I might’ve told him he has the intellectual, spiritual and emotional depth of a Aquafina bottle cap and that he’s clearly marrying above his station because it’s obvious his fiancée has more important things to worry about than staying twiggy for his sorry ass. Like finding a better man, perhaps.
Of course, my brilliant tirade didn’t come without its fair share of residual response comments trickling in. It always does. The best part is when they actually seek me out in my DMs because they’re too pussy to call me out in the thread.
Prittybrit03: You are ALWAYS on this forum. Do you seriously have nothing better to do, you troll?
That would normally sting, except I do plenty with my life and only spend so much time online because I use it in place of actually socializing.
Truthinator99: If you want to cross my bridge you must answer three riddles.
Prittybrit03: What? I have no idea what that means.
Truthinator99: I thought not, brainiac. Come back when you actually know a thing or two about trolls. PS, how do you know I’m always on here? Maybe because YOU are?
Daddyluvsya88: Want to be my sugar baby?
Truthinator99: Sure. How much money are we talking? And what do I have to do? My other sugar daddy pays me 5k a week, so you’re going to have to turn up. And I don’t do in person visits. And if you ask for a boob shot you’re going to have to show me yours first. If I decide they are satisfactory, then you have a deal. What’s your name?
Daddyluvsya88: …
Thought so.
BigJR95: You know you talk a tough game, but I bet you’re really some feeble little nobody that has to come on the internet to feel big.
Ouch. Okay, felt that one.
Truthinator99: Oooh, you hit me RIGHT WHERE I DON’T GIVE A FUCK there, son. PS, you’re doing the EXACT SAME THING RIGHT NOW, so check yourself, BITCH!
Bahahahahaha!
An email notification pops up in my lower right corner and I click on it to see who’s insane enough to send messages at this time of night.