The following is a transcript from a phone call I received on my land line (?) earlier today.

Me: Hello?

She: Who is this?

Me: Who is THIS?

She: This is Bobby Lynn.

Me: (inside voice: Really?!) What can I do for you, Bobby Lynn?

She: Who are you?

Me: (Pause) I think you have the wrong number.

She: Your number is programmed into my husband’s cell phone…who are you?

Me: (Ah…she thinks I am his mistress of something…I am intrigued and sad…but mostly intrigued) I am the owner of this phone number…but I have only been here a couple months so it must have been someone else…(Why the fuck am I justifying myself to you instead of following my natural instincts and hanging up….one word: intrigued)

She: I don’t think so….your name is programmed in my husband Peter’s phone under UMV. (My mind does one million things…under my vage….u must vage….u make vaginas…I don’t know why my mind was stuck in this place)

Me: I don’t know Peter.

She: How do you know his name?

Me: You just said it.

She: Who are you?!?!?!

Me: Okay, I am not your husband’s mistress or whatever…I know that much….and I gotta tell you…you are really freaking me out, Bobby Lynn. ( I hear it is important in these negotiations to establish intimacy.)

She: (long long Pause) Wrong number.

Dial tone.

I have included a picture from my photo shoot…because it felt like the right thing to do.

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