And that's why I'll never be a Sherpa

Actual e-conversation I had the other day:

Anonymous Friend (names have been changed to protect the innocent): You haven't posted a blog in over a week. What the hell?

Me: You sir, are INCORRECT. I posted last week! Oh wait... on like a Monday or something.... I'm working on it - I had a work lunch today and couldn't write during lunch!

AF: All is forgiven. Just don't go all J.D. Salinger on me!

Me: Hmm.... OK. I know who J.D. Salinger is, but why don't I want to do that to you?

AF: After J.D. Salinger wrote Catcher in the Rye, and it went all super ginormous biggest book ever, he stopped publishing and started locking up everything up in a vault he would share with no one. Except a Yale co-ed he started banging for a few years.

ME: AWESOME. Actually I already pretty much already lock up everything I own and carry it with me all the time - and I call it my PURSE. It's practically made of anti-matter it's so heavy.

AF: You're one of those woman that rocks the Sherpa look 365 then?

Me: I practically AM a Sherpa! Well... except that whole "afraid of heights" thing. I once climbed on a roof to clean the gutters and got so freaked out all I could do was cry for 30 minutes before getting up the courage to climb back down. And the Ex-Mr. Smith wouldn't call the fire department for a ladder truck to get me off. THEY ARE RIGHT DOWN THE STREET, YO. They get cats all the time, why not me?

AF: I had another question I was going to ask, but then it occurred to me, what the fuck was his ass doing on the ground while his scared of heights wife was cleaning gutters?

Me: Well, in his defense, he had tried to get up there and said it was too high and the roof was too steep. So, naturally, I called him a pussy and said it wasn't too high or too steep and to move and I'd do it myself. Then I climbed up... and well.... you know the rest of the story.

AF: As long as you called the ex a pussy at some point in the story, that's what really matters.