Me and CandyDevil and Twitter

I hardly ever tweet. You may be reading this because I tweeted a message with a link to this blog. That is what I tweet about. That and once or twice a month I just do something stupid like pretend to be a prostitute or something.

People tweet at me, or whatever it is people do with their tweeting devices. I don't care. I could care less how this works, I could care less if people follow me or I follow you or we all follow Jesus. It does not bother me. I tweet to let people who have somehow shown an interest that I have posted some sort of nonsense on this blog. That's really about it.

Then some loud mouthed, I'm sorry, some petite flower from Brooklyn of all places, a pretend actress no less, tweets me out of the blue with some snide little remark about me sending her some sort of spam. I know not what she speaks. I do not spam. I do not send spams. I am not a spamming type of person. What I send are described above. That's it. This CandyDevil from Brooklyn, who may or may not now be stalking me, and god I hope she is, because today my life is devoid of drama and lord knows I could use a dimwitted actress from Brooklyn checking me out and sending me love notes via twitter and possible asking me out on dates when I am in New York on both work and pleasure.

So, I get a message from dear sweet little CandyDevil saying "don't spam me bro" or something eloquent like that. Now, I check my Twitter account about as much as I check my prostate, which means I usually wait to have others check it, but one day I accidentally checked messages in my Twitter account and I saw this distressed little message from dear sweet homely CandyDevil and I thought the very least I could do was respond.

So I wrote back, "No." That was all I wrote, because it was all I had to say, I had not tweeted anything, not a note, not a spam note, not a note containing spam, not a note endorsing Spam the multi-use meat byproduct that may or may not contain actual meat byproducts. Nothing.

Which was true, because I had never, nor would I ever, spam her with anything.

Soon enough this angel from Brooklyn responded like only a cultured woman of means from Brooklyn could. "Fuck You," was her response. Which, is of course, the official Brooklyn response to most anything. Sir, you won the lottery, Fuck You. Madam, I believe your dress is on fire, Fuck You. Excuse me, but your child just robbed me and shot my dog. Fuck you.

You get it. Some people in Brooklyn use the term Fuck You with such regularity that it becomes, well, endearing. So when my new friend from the deathly reaches of the anus of Twitter thought to entice me with her language skills, all I could think of was how proud her parents must be of her.

I am not the type to get into a pissing match with a girl from Brooklyn with limited communication skills and a bad haircut. That is just not the type of guy I am. Although, to be honest, I did respond. I think I said something to the effect of, (in 140 characters or less) "hey Shitbag, all I ever tried to say to you, I am not spamming your hellhole of a life," or something like that.

In the end, me and CandyDevil will live happily ever after, because that is how these things always end. Me and Candy, happy and content, skipping happily down the streets of Brooklyn, singing sweet songs and whispering sweet nothings to one another, "no you're the douche bag" - "no, fuck you" - "No you shut the fuck up...."