Super Internet Trooper To The Rescue

Saving Kittens and Parents from Evil Emails one Evil Email at a time!

Probably too long to fit on a business card, no?

My mom forwarded me an email the other day about this 'new fad' in Japan where women are wearing skirts with prints on the back that make it look like their skirt is invisible. At first I thought, 'Huh. Weird.' By the time I got to the last picture I was thinking, "Oh please, my cat could use photoshop better than that."

Since my suspicious meter was bouncing off the charts I googled the first line of the email and found a link to snopes. As it turns out, as it does probably 90% of the time, the email was spreading around false information.

The pictures are real; real in the sense that they really do appear in porno mags. Porno magazines catering to clientele that like to look at women in their underwear.

Heh.

My mom forwarded me porn.

I replied back to the email with a link to the snopes article and a brief explanation as to where the pictures came from. I hope my mom doesn't feel bad when I reply with a snopes-link. This wouldn't be the first one I've sent.

I still have this email exchange flagged in the name of All That Is Awesome in my inbox at work. I save it for rainy days when I need a smile.

From: Dad
Subject: FW:
Date: Thu, 7 Jun 2007 15:30:44
To: a bunch of people (8+)

FREE LAPTOP
Hi! We want you to like us! So we're giving away free laptops! Because that makes total sense! Just send this email to 8 people and you'll get a FREE LAPTOP! Wheee!

Make sure you send a copy to: some.poor.sucker @ company.com

From: Mom
Subject: Fwd: FW:
Sent: Friday, June 8, 2007 11:17 AM
To: a bunch of people (8+)

Same email pyramid as before, just one tier higher.

From: Spam Police A Thoughtful Daughter
Subject: Re: FW:
To: Mom and Dad

Ack! Stop the insanity!

I can't believe you guys fell for it.

snopeslink

Suckers! :)

But don't worry, I still love you.

*hugs*

From: Mom
To: Daughter

Daddy made me do it. Love you too. Mom.

From: Daughter
To: Mom

Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha

From: Mom
To: Daughter

I'm serious. I don't want or need a new computer. So there.

I see her sticking her tongue out at the screen every time I read that.

And okay, maybe I could have broke it to them more gently. Maybe buy a 'Welcome to the Internet: It's Full of Lies' card and slip it into a wine gift basket. I was just highly amused they, and everyone else who forwarded that email before them, thought they'd get a free laptop. But I was just jaded by that time, having seen several similar emails before that.

Bill Gates never did give me that money he promised. :(

Mamma's little baby loves clambake, clambake

Oh Dear Elvis... I showed up to work today with my shirt on inside out.

I know I headed off to work this morning wearing one navy blue sock with one black sock and black pants. That was done, however reluctantly, on purpose. I've been delaying the Inevitable Laundry Session that I know will come whether I want it to or not. No matter how much I ignore its existence, the emptiness of my underwear drawer will not magically reverse itself.

But if it could? Awesome squared!

I have enough undies to make it to the weekend, which is when I can do laundry at 7 or 8 in the morning before it gets all butt-ass melty hot outside. Bleagh. But my socks? They fare not so well. I've been down to mismatched socks since Tuesday. And now I'm down to socks that aren't even from the same species of sock-dom. Hello random halloween themed sock!

But the mismatched socks I could deal with. My feet are under a desk for most of the day, and hardly anyone, if any at all, would notice. But my shirt?!

Holy frack nuggets Batman!

Good thing I was bored during my morning meeting, and looking down, and checking out my chest (as a byproduct of being bored, mind you, I don't normally check out my chest. Well, that often anyway...) Anywho! I was wearing a v-neck shirt and as I was looking down I noticed the fabric sticking out where the two lines of the V meet.

And I thought to my self, 'well that looks weird... what the... oh. Crap.'

Sigh.

Thankfully nobody noticed. Because I refuse to believe otherwise.

In other news, I received a spammy email the other day that advertised a drug that could make me "wild and woozy." I thought that would be an interesting combination. "Woohoo! Let's go skinny dipping! Right after I sit down though because I'm a bit dizzy!" Sign me up.

How Sex The Bot

I haven't talked dirty to mr. jabberwacky in awhile so I thought I'd stroll on over and chat him up. The first few sentences are written from memory since the silly servers went all wonky on me and timed out before I could copy-paste.

Jabby: Can you think?

Me: I think I can.

What does that mean?

Are you dense?

(A very sassy remark which I can not remember for the life of me, and neither can the jabberwacky servers.)

Are you sassin' me? Because I'm not in the mood to be sassin'.

Can you get in the mood?

Depends, Sugar. Can you get me there?

*hands you the contraband*

What is that? Sounds kinky.

Oh it is.

RAWR!

Lol! XD.

ZOMG UR SO CUTE ^^

Good luck, I have 7 proxies.


I had to stop there. I el-oh-el'd for reals in front of co-works and figured I'd best get back to work before they got suspicious.

Until we chat again, my sweet Jabby. Keep those proxies warm for me.

A Bit Of Random

I opened up this word doc to write about one thing and ended up with something completely different. When the muse needs to vent, the muse needs to vent! I blame the heat.

Random #1

I've been finding about an ant a day crawling across my desk for the past week.

First ant? Poor fella. He must have gotten lost.

*squish*

Second ant? Hmmm... Interesting.

*squish*

Third ant? Okay, who hid the candy behind my desk?

*squish*

Fourth ant? I'm starting to think I should probably mention this to someone. I'm not sure I can take more karma hits from all that ant-icides I've performed this week.

*squish*

Random #2

My boss is pretty cool. He's offered to hook me up with friends or family to help out with X and Y and Z. But I'd still never befriend him on facebook, even if I knew he was there. And if for some reason he found me and befriended me, and I had a crazy moment and accepted, I'd like to think I'd be smart enough not to log in to facebook and complain what a wanker he is.

Random #3

This is Day Three of The Great Office Sauna Saga.

Three days that the air conditioner hasn't worked. Yesterday, when I finally escaped this hellhole, the thermostat said it was 87 degrees in here. Eighty Mutha Effin Seven Degrees. I'm surprised I got as much work done as I did. When I was in the middle of a project I focused in and lost track of time and forgot for a glorious yet brief moment that I was stewing in the office. But when I finished? And I had to think of what to do next? It was hard to get that focus back. I didn't want to do anything. I didn't want to move.

The best part was when someone came into the office, sat down, and a few moments later said, "Did you know that its 85 degrees in here?"

"Holy shit, really? I hadn't noticed!"

I swear, some people get so touchy when I answer their stupid question with sarcasm. Am I supposed to thank them for making me aware of my office's sauna status?

And yes, I'm still cranky about it. Because its frickin hot in here! Ugh.

I hear something on the roof right now. I hope its either the A/C people fixing things or Godzilla getting ready to attack and put me out of my misery.

Note To Self # 45837

Note To Self:

Don't wear a shirt with one type of neck shape (i.e. rectangular) when over the weekend you got sunburned while wearing a shirt with a different shaped neck (i.e. triangular). It makes the pasty whiteness even pastier.

And it makes you look funny.

So try to not to do it again.

F is for...

Frank! Freud! Francis! François!

Ford!

Uh...

Filbert!

Frankenstein!

Okay, I was stretching it with those last two.

"Last two?" says my inner heckler.

My mind is clogged and can't think of any more boy names that start with the letter F.

Fred!

There, just thought of another. Bitch and ye shall receive.

During lunch I played the Twist-The-Stem-Off-The-Apple game - the game where each twist is a letter of the alphabet, and the letter you say when the stem snaps off represents the first letter of a boy's name who... um...

... is thinking of you?

... secretly has a crush on you?

... luuuuuuuuuuuuuuuves you?

I don't remember the exact level of affection the magical stem foretells, but the twisting game is still a habit I fall into now and again.

Sorry boys, but if your first name is near the end of the alphabet you are so screwed. Poor William. Poor Zachary. They only get to like/crush/luuuuuve the girls that have mutant apples for lunch, mutant apples with stems that have the fortitude of a bungee cord.

Nowadays I just twist and say the alphabet and then amuse myself with whatever letter I come up with. (Fabio!) When I was much younger, however, if there was a letter I wanted the apple stem to "magically" break off at, I'd have to be careful. If I wanted to get to a letter near the middle of the alphabet I had to employ the tiniest of quarter twists.

"Jayyyyyy..."

"Kayyyyyyy..."

"Ell-"

*snap*

"Poop!"

Yes, I'm sure I said poop back then because I was young and innocent and didn't know "Shit!" or even "Crap!" was so much more satisfying to say. Now, of course, I am old and corrupted and savor a good curse like a Pillsbury crescent roll fresh out of the oven

Today's apple was delicious, much like a Pillsbury crescent roll would be but I don't have any so why did I have to go thinking about yummy crescent flakiness because now I'm hungry again and I didn't bring another apple... crap!

So yes, the apple was delicious, if not fulfilling, but who is this F fella and does this crush of his involve buying me candyPillsbury crescent rolls and sending me notes during first period?

Stick a tenedor in me, I'm done!

Tenedor is the Spanish word for fork. Which I learned in Spanish... 002? So 2 quarters ago. Or is that 3 quarters ago now that SPN004 is actually over?

Anyway... the point is that I already forgot the word and had to look it up. Go Go Super Brain!

It doesn't matter though because I'll never use Spanish again! Well... not until the next time I visit with the HB's parents.

Ahem.

It doesn't matter though because I don't have to take Spanish 005! Yippee!

That's right. No more classes for me. I'm now a college graduate! After many years of college, and just as many non-years of college, (aka The I'll-Take-A-Break-For-Just-This-One-Quarter Syndrome) I'm finally done. Done done diggity done.

A quick timeline:

• I graduated high school/started college in '97
  
• moved at the end of the third school year in '00
  
• went to a new school that fall
  
• took the following winter quarter off
  
• aliens abducted me
  
• next thing I knew several years had passed
  
• screwed in the 'hey this would be a fun major' light bulb above my head in august of '05
  
• went to a jc that semester while I scrambled to enroll at the UC
  
• started classes there in the winter of '06
  
• took my last class in the summer of '09

Great googly moogly! It took me awhile, didn't it?

SPN004 was a summer school class, and since there was no way in hell I was waiting for the end of the upcoming fall quarter to spend 50+ bucks on a 50 cent grad gown (what a crock) I opted to attended the commencement ceremony at the end of the spring quarter, which happened to be last month.

I got my fake little paper diploma and gorgeous flowers from the HB and a special dinner treat from the parents and all the warm fuzzies that come with pretending you're now somehow more special than you were before you walked across the stage to shake some stranger's hand whom everyone kept referring to as the Chancellor.

Like I gave two hamster craps about that guy. He's just some random dude to me, and new to the job at that! I didn't have time to build up my admiration for him to the elusive Three Hamster Craps level. Let me shake hands with the lady who sold me the best egg sandwiches in the world from the little deli attached to the records office. Now there's a gal who improved my college experience. Seriously. Those egg sandwiches were magical. Magically delicious.

It was a nice enough ceremony even though the Special Guest Speakers thought we, the audience, wanted them to speak three times as long as we had the attention span for. I got a little giddy every time I thought, 'wow, I'm actually here, I'm actually graduating,' but it didn't feel real. It wouldn't until it was official, until I took that one last requirement during summer school.

The weekend after the grad ceremony I was up visiting my parents for a big family gathering. Everyone gave me verbal high fives with a few 'finally's thrown into the mix. Yes, yes, I finally graduated. Go me.

A couple conversations went as such:

"So you're finally done? Time to celebrate!"

"Uh, not really. I still have one more class to take."

"But that's just summer school. You're as good as done!"

"Ok. Sure. Woooo. Celebrate time."

But it was a half hearted woooo at best.

Sure, I celebrated. And sure, I was in happy happy joy joy mode. But I didn't feel done. It didn't feel real. (Does that even makes sense?) And then, last Friday, I took the final for SPN004. The last test I will ever take. Ever. Unless I go back for my masters. But that's another story all together.

This was, for all intents and purposes, the LAST TEST I WOULD EVER HAVE TO TAKE.

I sat there and stared at my finished test longer than I should have. I just kept looking at it for any errors I might have made, without really looking at it. Then I thought, 'what the hell am I doing? It's good enough to pass!' I got up, handed it to the prof, thanked him for whatever, walked out the door, down the stairs, and out another door and into the fresh air.

And then it hit me.

That was it.

That was the last test I'd ever have to take.

And I got giddy. Like real giddy.

I balled up my hands into fat little fists of joy and if I'd been in a movie I would have thrown them up in the air and broken out into song.

But I wasn't in a movie so I reigned that shit in and called the HB instead.

I got teary eyed as I walked to my car, waiting for the call to go through. I almost started crying for crying out loud. What's up with that? It's just a stupid test for a stupid class for a stupid degree. It's not like I had to fight insurmountable odds and struggle through adversity to graduate. They won't be making a Lifetime Made-For-TV-Movie about my journey from Slackerhood to Graduationville. And I certainly can't wear my achievement like a Girl Scout badge. (Though that's an idea for another day though...) No, I just graduated. And got emotional about it. And for some silly reason I felt silly about that.

And no, dear inquiring friends, I don't know what I'm going to do with my BA in Creative Writing.

And no, dear inquisitive family members, I'm not going to quit my job and write a novel.

Not that I haven't been tempted.

I'm just going to... enjoy not being in school for awhile. And enjoy not paying for school for awhile. And make it up as I go.

I should probably have a plan. That'd be the smart thing to do. And I'm a graduate now! I have teh smartz! So yeah, I'll have to work on that. But I'm not going to feel bad for not having one yet. I'm not I'm not I'm not.