The other day some friends and I were discussing career alternatives. Our job criteria was this: work from home, decent pay, and super easy. Naturally, that led us to phone sex operator. What could be better than sitting around your house in your fat-pants and unwashed hair while earning money off of desperate dopes needing a little ear action
We promptly started working on our phone sex personas. Since men love food and dumb sounding chicks I went with Cinnamon. Taking a cue from me, JJ went with Bush Beans. Not sure she really understands what we're going for here, but she is a Lesbian so I get the Bush part. April went with Nurse Nan after coming up with several stinkers (no offense April) and finally, SA settled on Ginger. Can't go wrong with spices or Gilligan's Island.
After giving this some serious thought I decided I would be the worst phone sex operator in the history of phone sex. I would show my irritation when a sex call interrupted me in the middle of changing a diaper or folding towels (kind like how I'm irritated when Husband wants to interrupt my sleep for a tango with his man junk), not to mention, I'm so not interested in fulfilling some sad guy's sex fantasy (I'm not even interested in my own sex fantasies-remember, I'm dead inside).
Anyway, here's how my phone sex would probably go:
Me: Hello, this is Cinnamon how can I help you?
LG: Uh, this is Lonely Guy.
Me: (sigh) Hello, Lonely Guy.
LG: So, what are you into?
Me: What am I into? Carbs and nap time, that's what I'm into.
LG: Oh. Well, aren't you gonna ask what I'm into?
Me: I have a feeling you're going to tell me whether or not I want to hear it.
Me: But let me guess, you're into sex and in the absence of actual sex you will settle for sex talk ending with you ejaculating. That about sum it up?
LG: Umm...Is this 1-800-HOT-Mamma?
Me: Why, sure! Can't you tell? I'm one hot mamma. In fact, I'm not wearing any clothes right now.
LG: That's more like it....
Me: Yeah, my baby puked on my last clean shirt so all my clothes are in the laundry.
LG: Can we just talk about sex?
Me: Sure! What do you want to know about it? I'm sort of an expert because I've blown a couple of kids out.
LG: That's not what I meant. I don't have any questions....just...tell me something sexy....like are you touching yourself?
Me: Touching myself? No way. I haven't had a shower and I smell like baby puke. I can't even turn myself on. Besides, I need a glass a wine, Cinamax, and some private time for that miracle to occur.
LG: (sigh) How about this...Tell me what you'd like to do to me?
Me: I'd like to give you a list of errands and watch you complete them accurately and without complaint. Now, that's hot.