I'm a Blogger

The scene: A half-way to grown up house party The crowd: Writer-types & the masochistic girls who date them

Dude: So what do you do?

Dude is 5’8”-ish, awkwardly pompous & an oddly sallow shade of pale.

Deep breath. In the interest of pandering to the over-literate-under-original masses, I reply.

Me: I’m a writer

Skepticism. Bemused left eyebrow. Strange twitchy flare in the nostril region.

Dude: Oh, really? What are you working on now?

Me: My memoirs. Also known as my blog. And I freelance for —-

Dude: Ohhhh. So you’re a blogger.

Pigeonhole found.

This is why I don’t speak to short men.