Seriously, if you have never read I Hope They Serve Beer in Hell by Tucker Max, you should stop whatever you are doing and go out and find a copy of the book. It’s hilarious and definitely worth the read, it’s ridiculously satirical and possibly the best memoir I’ve read in a very long time. If you think you’re a complete inconsiderate jerk, I’m sure that Tucker Max could beat you, hands down.

Now I’m going to go back to writing the story that I’m going to email to C for when he gets off of work. The boy needs entertainment, what can I say?

If we agree to take things slow, all the dirty talk should probably not be happening so often. It’s just too much fun. Plus he can’t stop reminding me that I brought it all up first. And while this may be technically true, he didn’t have to encourage me. Discussing daydreams should also be off the table as well.

Do you know how you get a guy who doesn’t read very much to read something and read quickly?

Promise to talk dirty to him later if he can find the only type on a page.

Not only will he read it, he’ll actually make suggestions for things to be changed. But he still didn’t find the only typo on the first page. So rather than talking dirty, we’ve been having a seemingly normal conversation. Sex hasn’t been brought up at all (we’ve been talking about cartoons and comics).

I think I’m disappointed. I’ve gotten used to the dirty conversations to round out my evenings.