I have been sharing some of the truly weird shit which seems to happen constantly with me on my tumblr blog and it reminded me of a co-incident that occurred last year when I was chatting with L B Gregg (aka LB, Lisabea, etc, etc).
Basically we were having one of our standard ‘let’s bitch about everyone and everything’ sessions. I do this with a few others too. Apparently I’m pretty good at it. 😛
Anyhoo, the trash talk included me telling her I thought Dudleytown sucked because it didn’t have enough frottage in it, but that the scene in the open grave would ensure she retained her ‘Queen of the M/M Frott’ crown.
We went on to chat a bit about the perviness levels associated with graves and man love, which was when the phone rang…
It was a person who I’d become great mates with in one of the towns covered by the job I just ditched. The convo went like this…
Her: *slightly freaked* You know how they’re digging that trench for new water pipes?
Me: *keeping one eye on the chat* Which one is that?
Her: The one near the old cemetery.
Me: *attenHUT* You’re going to tell me they found a grave, aren’t you.
Me: No. Fucking. Way.
Swear to God, not even I could make up shit like this.
Needless to say, I immediately told LB that she would never in a gazillion years guess what had just happened AND I had a great idea she should incorporate in the story.
She didn’t though.
The rude heifer.