Cee and I are discussing the possibilities of her filling this role. Or one like it. Add to that, she’s interested in role play. Which is a genre of interaction with which I have a little experience, but not a lot.
I’ll write more about this, I’m sure, but here’s what you need to know for now: when I asked her for an e-mail to which I could send a login to this blog as a contributor (that’s another role she’ll be playing), she told me a hilarious store about a gallon of cow shit she once sent a (former) friend of hers, using this remarkable service called “Poopsenders.” [I confess: the first time I typed that word, just now, what I thought I had typed was the name of a truly hysterical riff on the British show Eastenders. If anyone wants to make a send-up of Eastenders called Poopsenders, you have my permission. You’re welcome.]
It says something about me – I’m not sure that what it says is entirely good, but it definitely says something – that I literally can’t think of a person in the universe to whom I would want to send a gallon (or even just a quart, as they allow for a bit less $) of cow shit.