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Showing posts from June, 2015

Spam email of the week

Subject: Business matter

Vague enough to evoke skepticism yet businessy enough to spark interest.

Hello,

It is understandable for you to grow apprehensive reading from me today since there was no previous communication between us.


I am always apprehensive of people I have never heard from before. That is why I literally do not know or talk to anyone. I am willing to make an exception here, but only if you have a dope name.

I am Han (Mr.),

"My name is Han. But let us skirt the formalities. Please - call me Han Mister."

a managing attorney and a Malaysian national.

"Actually, call me Esquire Han Mister, or Mister Malaysia (Mr.), 2008."

I came across your contact via scrupulous search conducted by an IT specialist whom I have employed for the purpose of same.

Han Mister: One thing I really like is scrupulous searches for potential partners in business matters.

IT Specialist: Samsies.

Hans Mister: YOU'RE HIRED.

The present communication is prompted by a legitimate business…

Parental reward

When the kids say something painfully idiotic, my wife will often respond by saying, “Thanks, Copernicus.” It’s been going on for so long now I can’t remember for sure, but I think it stems from a Brian Reagan routine. Either way, this is what we do. We are great parents.
And like any great parents, our girls are starting to mimic what we do. Not the good stuff, of course, like having manners and not interrupting and consistently urinating in a toilet. Everything else.
So let me set the scene. I’m driving the girls home from school/camp, and our game of 20 questions involving characters from movies or TV shows has devolved into anarchy because they cannot tell the difference between cartoons and real people. (To be more specific, I spent 10 minutes racking my brain trying to think of a “definitely REAL-PERSON” boy who has a cat and a family, only to discover the boy is Caillou. They are almost 5 and 6, by the way.) So we’ve decided to switch up the game. Now we have to throw a letter ou…

Spam email of the week

Subject: 20/20 Vision In 14 days (urgent)

I'll say.

I just got one of the most eye opening emails ever…

This is the best opening pun of any vision-based spam email I have ever received, and eye ain't kidding.

It came from Dr. William Kemp…

OK.

If you follow vision science


I do.

you know this guy well.

Uh, we're pretty much besties. Dr. William Kemp sleeps on my couch if he becomes fatigued from all of the vision science he does.

Really nice guy too.

A lot of people say, "I don't need my eye doctor to be nice. Just fix my eyes, man (lady)!" I disagree. I like it when eye doctors are nice. I don't know. How I was raised, I guess.

But this email wasn’t nice.

Oh sh*t.

There was no “hello”.
There was no “how are you”


Wow. WHAT THE HELL HAS GOTTEN INTO DR. WILLIAM KEMP?

Just the words.

I enjoy the distinction between"hello" and "how are you," which are words, and words in general. Dr. William Kemp has no time for niceties, only cold, hard, motha frea…

How Sex Works, part IV

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Read parts I, II and III for very important background information. We left off with crazy and charismatic 17-year-year-old Charlie falling off the bed while trying multiple sex positions. Let’s see if Polly can one-up him in this very important book called, “Embarrassing Teenage Sex Stories” …

The first time I tried to put my diaphragm in, it slipped out of my fingers, flew across the room, and bounced off the wall. We just couldn’t stop laughing, and it really helped me relax. – Polly, 17 years  Thanks, 17-year-old Polly! Hopefully, your diaphragm story will help a 15- or 16-year-old learn to relax before sex. Just launch a contraceptive across the room, laugh, take a deep breath, and dive right in. Minus 1 Neither here nor there, but if you showed me Polly’s picture sans a name and I had to guess Polly’s name, my guess would definitely be: Polly. 


Yo, nice Cosby baby sweater, BABY. Don’t you know Cosby isn’t chill anymore? And it’s super insensitive to bring him up consi…

How Sex Works, part III

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For parts I and II, there ya' go.



I don’t know, I’m not buying them as a couple. This is too college brochure-ish for a publication claiming to keep it real re: sex. Just because Lisa Turtle and Zack Morris kissed one time doesn’t mean MC Lyte would date William Zabka. I mean c’mon. Minus 1



And from that forced diversity we get to the whitest birthday party ever. I don’t know what’s so funny, but it was probably a racist joke. Also, eat fruit much?

Happy birthday to you  Soon you’ll grow some pubes  Here’s a tiny-ass cake and lots of fruit  Oops who was supposed to invite Jamaal? 
Minus 1




“My parents are so concerned about the furniture. I couldn’t ask my friends home. Something would get broken. It’s better to hang out at the mall or in the park.” John, 17 years 

Trust me, John, you’ll understand when you have furniture. It’s very important to have furniture when you’re an adult. I’d probably be more sympathetic if you were like, “It’s not like we’re going to break the couch in half,”…

A naming ceremony on graduation day

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We exited the pre-K and kindergarten graduation ceremony like we exit most things—in a heap of dramatic despair. Our youngest was refusing to budge because leaving meant she’d no longer be able to “shake my booty” on the stage that had become a pseudo dance party for a bunch of kids waiting for their parents to wrap up small talk. Our oldest was hopped up on pizza and performance adrenaline—when asked what she wanted to be when she grows up while getting her “diploma,” she forgot the word for coach (“coach”) and blurted into the microphone, “I want to be a swim … … … HA HA HA HA HA HA!” and ran off the stage to the sporadic applause of a very confused crowd. What saved us from the continuation of these dramatic antics was their realization that their tremendous personal effort of not getting kicked out of the lowest level of school had earned them a parting gift—a tiny, stuffed bear wearing a tassel, insinuating that it, too, had recently graduated from school. Also, the bears came …