"My Twitter account was hacked, and somebody sent that picture to everyone in my address book," he said in his calm cool voice.
"Oh so that isn't you?" I tried to mask my disappointment, not that anything ever happened between us, but hey, a gal was suddenly giving some thought on the subject.
"No, not at all."
"So then why haven't you sent out a follow up tweet saying that it wasn't you and that your account was hacked?" I asked. He got quiet for a moment. Then it all clicked. "OH, I get it--"
"I mean--" he tried to interrupt.
"--who cares if people think you are blanket sexting the interweb, as long as they walk away with the impression that you are hung like a Andalusian donkey."
"Really, what's the crime here?"
"I have a feeling you aren't thinking this through. You don't know women like I do, and I don't mean that in a Scissor Kisses kinda way." I said when my other line beeped. "Anywho, I gotta go, I've got another call." I clicked to the other line and started to say, "Hell--" when I was cut off by an anxious sounding woman.
"Hey, you hang out with Pygar, right? Is he dating anyone? Can you arrange a meet up for a sister?"
"Who the hell is this?"
"Chelsea."
"Who?"
"Chelsea Handler."
"Who?"
"I--" she started.
"I'm sorry, Mrs 'what-ever-you-said-your-name-was,' how did you get this number?" I asked as my other line beeped again. "Oh hold on, I've got another call." I clicked to the other line, "Hello?"
"Hey, is this Frau? This is Snookie, I hear you are good friends with Pygar the Angel, can you tell him--"
"Lordy Lou!" I exclaimed, before hanging up on both of them and shutting off my phone for the rest of the night.
This morning, when I turned my phone back on, I dismayed at how many messages I had!

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