by Patricia Tatum

Created on: February 03, 2009

Hey, baby - your one hot mama! Want some spicy hot chili pepper?

Just what I need; some infantile Neanderthal wasting my time. Illiterate, too. It's "you're" as in "you are". And look at that e-mail address: cyberpunk@generic.com. How original. BTW, I'm being sarcastic. Definitely NOT going to reply; after all, I'm an intelligent, attractive woman with a LIFE! Oh yeah, and a HUSBAND! A wonderful husband named Frank who loves me very much. Now, where was I? Right, picking out a virtual congrats gift for Cydney's first e-novel publication. Maybe a dozen e-roses? No, that's more of a guy-to-girl e-Valentine. Just a bottle of cyber-champagne, I suppose. At least this way she won't drink and drive (again). The last time she did, she had to take defensive driving. At least you can do it online these days - Cyd said it was a breeze after the second martini...

C'mon, sweet thang! I got what you want, baby! Spicy hot chili pepper! bleh, bleh, bleh...

Great! Now he's added one of those stupid emoticons; a creepy looking happy face sticking its tongue out repeatedly. How the heck did this loser get my e-mail address anyway? Must of been Beatrice. That witch has been out to get me ever since I fixed her spreadsheet for her. It's not my fault she didn't have a backup copy. Hey, that's routine procedure. She's just jealous anyway. I never should have invited her to be my Facebook friend. What if she told this cyberpunk about that? I'll have to un-Facebook and de-MySpace and change all my e-mail addresses and move my home page! OMG! I'll have to get a whole new Second Life!

Frying those tortillas in the pan! You want a hot tamale, baby?

Now, THAT's original. And still a waste of my time. I'm still not going to lower myself to his level and answer. I have better things to do. I think I'll take the Flirtability Factor quiz on links2love.com. Or maybe go shopping. Of course, if I go virtual shopping, it won't cost real money..

Hey, sexy mama! You wanna check out your behind!

Huh? That's it. I gotta find a way to stop this creep: LOOK, YOU THICK-HEADED, ODIOUS, IMBECILIC, SOCIALLY INEPT CREEPAZOID! wHAT THE HELL ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT?!?

"Um, I mean, look behind you..." Okay, that was a real voice. One I know...uh oh...

I turn away from the computer slowly, already practicing my most sincere apology to find my loving (and hopefully forgiving) husband with a margarita in one hand, a plate of hot, home made tamales in the other and a sheepish grin on his face.

Are you sure you want to log off? Oh, yeah. :)

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