Joe coughed, after nearly inhaling coffee at mention of being well noted for being good in bed, and tried to salvage it from being too noticeable, pretending to have burned his mouth on the coffee.
"Yeah, Writing doesn't really have the same flash as being a rock star or anything. I think someone once put it out as being harder because in the end you're two inches of space on a shelf, vying for the readers attention...you know?" He offered, clearing his throat again. Damn coffee.
"Well...you're not...literally whipping the cream, well...not with like a bull whip. I think you make it with an whisk. I've never tried doing it by hand. It's supposed to be sweet. Marshmallows are just...pretty much air and sugar so, yeah, they're just there to make it sweeter and make it a little thicker." If it was an act, he was very convincing in his act of not knowing what certain things were.
If he was acting he should be in Hollywood. If he was crazy it was at least a sort of harmless crazy.
"I've got some of my published stuff in one of these boxes. I can pull it out and show you one if you want. ..." He offered, wondering how he'd react. "It's not exactly Herman Melville. Mostly light fantasy stuff."