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Showing posts from October, 2012

The importance of face time

Face Time is a built-in app on the iPhone whereby one can video chat with a fellow iPhone user. It’s possible we use this feature more frequently than the regular ol’ phone audio because our respective parents would prefer to see their granddaughter rather than just hear her. They couldn’t care less about us, honestly. I don’t even make an appearance in the majority of our Face Time sessions, and spend most of them shirtless while washing dishes. (I am usually close to naked around the house. I am always hot here.)

These calls offer varying degrees of success, and by that I mean they are almost always unsuccessful. For example, we attempted to Face Time with my dad last week and it kept freezing. When this happens, it typically freeze-frames on your worst possible expression. So our daughter became frustrated that Pop was not answering her and confused as to why his funny face was stuck. At least with my parents, we can quickly come to a mutual decision that it isn’t working and end i…

Spam email of the week (Pt. II)

Subject: Hello

Of course the subject is "Hello." "Hello" is a topic of conversation and not a mere salutation in Spambot Land, where the money is free and the rivers flow with the blood of the identity-less.

Hi!
I am Ms minnie how are you!


HI MS MINNIE I AM GOOD AND YOU? GOOD ARE YOU THE MOUSE OR AN EVIL SPAMBOT OR BOTH? NICE WEATHER TODAY GO LOCAL SPORTS TEAM

hope you are fine and in perfect condition of
health
.

Actually, Ms. Minnie, if you really want to know, I have been battling some acid reflux -- do you not follow my blog? -- and recently my jaw started experiencing this weird, sharp pain and also my toe nails are just ... they're not healthy, is all I can really say there. Overall I am fine though, thanks.

please do not be upset by receiving this email from me as we never
meet or know each other before.


What upsets me, mostly, is that sentence. Listen, Ms. Minnie -- if you're going to send out emails to people you don't know and are already anxious ab…

Spam email of the week

Subject: Very important to you! is not spam

I know we call this feature "Spam email of the week," but this email, according to this email, is not spam, so my apologies. It ended up in my junk mail folder and it was sent by contato@casaemail.com.br, or if you prefer, fonseca.dir@terra.com.br -- those are just too many dots -- and which are both people or things I am unfamiliar with. Nevertheless, not spam. And not only is this not spam, it is very important to me. ! I am therefore assuming this is about my family or fantasy football team(s).

Hello, I would like to offer you the best email list today on the market,

ARE YOU EVEN SERIOUS RIGHT NOW? How lucky am I? The best email list on the market? I don't know what I did to deserve this -- other than periodically check my junk email folder to see what dumbass nonsense was in there -- but my hard work has obviously paid off.

Just a few questions: a) What constitutes the best email list? Is it better than the one I currently h…

The lil’est slugger

We signed our daughter up for Lil’ Sluggers baseball on Saturday mornings. This was a risky move on the heels on Soccer Tots last fall, during which she had an all-out meltdown in five of the six sessions. Nevertheless, it’s important she remains active, and even more important I move forward with my plan of imposing the sport of baseball on her whether she likes it or not. It is my responsibility as a father.

Luckily, she seems to like baseball naturally. She has a baseball tee set in the backyard. Yes, it is pink, since “apparently every manufacturer in the world feels the need to gender-specify.” (- Wife) She also has a glove, which is also pink because I simply could not find a regular kid’s baseball glove. All the other (boys) gloves had pictures of Transformers or Spongebob Squarepants on them because: baseball. It is no longer possible to purchase a normal baseball glove for a child, fyi.

Anyway, where was I? Oh yes, she does enjoy hitting off the backyard tee, so we figured th…

Spam email of the week

Subject: Auto insurance (9/17/2012)

I work at a weekly newspaper, so it's important I'm up to speed (pun) on the latest news re: car insurance. Also, FINALLY someone has the wherewithal to include the date of the sent email in the subject header. I mean, is that so hard to do? Like many people who use email, I am not able to sort my email by date, and thus I am frequently saying things like, "Argh! Where is that email from whoever about whatevs from Tuesday the 23rd? WHY IS MY DEFAULT EMAIL SORT SETTING ON 'CAT MENTIONS' AND HOW DO I FIX IT?"

Our company is part of a platform of nearly 37 million people,

Whoa, slow your roll, playa! Not even a greeting? No, "Hello Beloved," or "To my sincerest" or "DEAR NEWSPAPER?" I'm offended.

Okay I'm over it. Go on with this thing about your company being part of a platform, which doesn't mean anything or make sense.

mostly United States and Canadian based.

Cool. Like many, I don…

The strip mall right-of-way, where everyone is wrong

The Arizona strip mall is a phenomenon unlike any I have ever seen. It is also the most dangerous place in the world.

Let us begin with the strip mall itself. If you have a business in the West Valley, you exist in a strip mall. The only free standing structures in this state are houses, so the only way to be sure you’re not in a strip mall is to find a bed. Unless you’re in a mattress store, in which case you’re definitely in a strip mall.

This is all well and good I suppose, except that there is no way of knowing what stores are in a strip mall unless you drive into one. Driving into a strip mall, however, does not come without risks. That is because the dyslexic child engineers who designed strip mall parking lots here did so in the most confusing way imaginable.

Here is my experience driving in any strip mall here: I am driving safely. Here comes an intersection. It looks like I don’t have a stop sign here but let me just be cautious because … yep, they blew their stop sign. I gue…

Spam email of the week

Subject: Funding Request From Kelcarter Investment Limited

Here is an email from Kelcarter Investment Limited that is desperately seeking to loan me money. If I remember one thing from the street smarts I obtained growing up and living near a street, it is this: ALWAYS trust when someone is trying to give you money. It should be mentioned, however, that Kelcarter Investment Limited is not a thing that exists. I Googled them and nothing of that name came up. I mean, you have to really not exist for Google not to return something, especially considering that is a great name for a band. Nevertheless, I will not hold their nonexistence as a company against them for the time being.

Dear Valued Partner,

Presumptuous, although it's good to know SOMEBODY values me as a partner. Just kidding babe, love you, smooches!

We will like to be a financial partner in your business transaction.

How did they know about my potential business transaction? I didn't even know about my business transact…

Neighborhood watch, a smart investment

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There is a foreclosed home on the corner of our block. I know it’s foreclosed because there is a Martin Luther-esque piece of paper taped to the front door that reads, “This house is foreclosed. BACK OFF. Love, Bank.” At least that’s what I assume it reads—I’ve never actually read it because it’s all the way across the street. Nevertheless, in today’s modern age, I do believe taping a piece of loose-leaf paper to a front door remains the best mode of communication regarding the status of any freestanding structure.

Anyway, there have been a lot of rumors about what is happening in this house. I have heard squatters were living there. I have heard the neighborhood kids ransacked it and set up their own independent government headquarters. I have heard Tupac lives there. Everything I have heard has come from neighborhood gossip and I have believed all of it.

I have, therefore, tried to remain on guard. Not because I necessarily care what happens to this house, but because I think it’s i…

Spam email of the week

Today's email comes courtesy of what might be the dumbest name in the history of fake names. Today's email comes courtesy of MR. ALEX GOOD WILL. That's Mister Alex if you're nasty, and Good Will is two words and also the opposite of the kind of will this email invokes. His email address is goodwillalex@ibibo.com and this went out to me and, among others, postmaster@keris.or.kr, which are addresses that are surprisingly absent from my contact list. I probably met them both at some party and don't even remember. Hey, we should totally make a money transfer together some day! Cool, no doubt! Get at me next week! or whatever. Anyway, so what's this email about?

Subject: PAYMENT

You're boy here is about to get pizz-aid. Just for sitting here at my desk. The American dream.

Re: Bank Payment Notification/Wire Transfer Approvals

That is the first line of the email. It couldn't be more official if it had a seal.

We wish to inform you that you have been recommended …

The perils of positive reinforcement

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I frequently receive email forwards or notice Facebook statuses from my elder relatives that refer to how much rougher and thus better things were when they were growing up. Things like, “When I was a kid the only video game we had was called GOING OUTSIDE!” Or, “Click ‘Like’ if you had one of these growing up!” and it will link to a picture of a beat-up station wagon or an alcoholic father.

I usually can’t roll my eyes hard enough when I come across these things because they’re really quite silly. Nostalgia can indeed cloud perception, and the things they pride themselves on were almost certainly luxuries by their parents’ standards. The implication is that we, and certainly our children, are going soft, and 30 years from now we’ll be a nation of fat, whiny, privileged brats who will be under China’s rule.

I don’t believe that to be the case. Look at me. I played video games as a kid and now I’m 34 and can almost change a tire. That said, these type of anecdotes are not entirely bere…