Or they didn’t last night. Now it’s anyone’s guess.
The point is, I was getting spammed by bots, and the only comments werePromote Heremessages.
It was frustrating. Infuriating. Maddening.
So I posted the pic. The one I’d taken solely to annoy Miles.
And it went viral.
Becauseof courseit did.
Who needs budget-friendly travel advice when there’s man candy to be had?
Judging from the comments, that would be no one.
I scroll through them, wondering if I should reply. Then again, how exactly am I supposed to respond toHottie in the wild!Or better yet,The only rabbit I need takes two AA batteries!
Just tell her battery-operated boyfriends make great travel companions. Boom!
Can I really do that?
Ay, cabrón. I’ll worry about replying later.
There’s a message notification in the upper right corner of my screen, demanding my attention. I tap it, praying it’s not some gross troll sliding into my DMs.
But no, what I find is worse.
The message is from Gran. Because she’s now on Instagram under the handle InstaGran.
It’s clever. I’ll give her that much.
The message is short, sweet, and to the point.
Why didn’t you tell me there were so many hot dudes on Instagram? I’d have joined ages ago! And keep posting those sexy pictures of your boss. You could even use these hashtags I found to get more likes!
#mancrushmonday
#tonselhockeytuesday
#wetwednesday
#deepthroatthursday
#freakyfriday
#suckitsaturday
#spankmesunday
Now I’m getting social media marketing advice from my grandmother?
The woman is a mood.
Maybe I should have brought her on this trip.
“Ready?” Miles asks, appearing at my side.
I quickly close the app and slip the phone into my pocket. “Has our tour guide arrived?”
