I have an e-mail account that is for my (unpaid) job as an officer for AMA District 37 Offroad Desert Division. I get about 100 e-mails a day, 99% of them spam. Normally I just delete in one fell swoop but this time I actually looked at the subject line and found the following (my comments in parentheses):
"Cheap designer watches to show your social status!" (Because telling the world you wear cheap knockoffs always gets you into the hottest clubs!)
"A watch speaks about its owner!" (and it says the owner wears a cheap knockoff)
"Your watch will find you no matter where you are!" (It's a tracking device your wife installed because she knows you're cheating with some ho that wears cheap knockoff accessories)
Along with all the spam for cheap knockoff watches is the spam for "male enhancement products." Who writes these things?
"Your stick will not be big when you close your eyes." (Nor will it be big when you open your eyes)
"More inches in your pants, less steps to success." (Gentlemen, always carry a ruler in your pants and you can skip the whole "get her drunk" part of the night.)
"Life is so much easier when you have more inches." (I know it helps getting stuff off the top shelves, dunking a basketball or watching a parade.)
"Your male friend will look great even in loose jeans." ("Dude, loose is one thing but wear a belt fercryinoutloud. Nobody wants to see your "Incredible Hulk" boxers.)
"Nothing gives more confidence than a big device." (What kind of device, a 1980's cellphone that comes with its own battery in a suitcase? A GPS? Commodore 64 computer?)
"You will like the quality of our soft." (Soft WHAT?? Bathroom tissue? Fabric softener? Towels?)
"How to get her hoot and ready too leave." (She will hoot in derision at the size of your big device along with the quality of the soft and be all too ready to leave.)
"Call for your diploma now!" (Finally! Artesia High School is finally acknowledging that I did not, in fact, ever check out and fail to return a science fiction novel back in 1980 and they're telling me I can finally come and pick up my Class of 1981 diploma! Please, like I would EVER check out a sci-fi novel. Wait a sec. This isn't from my high school. Crap. This means I still don't have my High School Diploma. Dammit.)
Thursday, July 9, 2009
Wednesday, July 8, 2009
What a mess
They say a messy desk is a sign of a messy...well...person and right now, based on how my desk looks, I'm a mess.
How I'm able to find anything in this black hole of a desk is simply miraculous. It doesn't help that my desk is massive, although it's hard to tell from the photo. Seriously, this thing is almost 4 feet deep, 6-1/2 feet long along with a 3-1/2 foot return. All this means is that I have lots of space for crap on my desk. In my desk. Under my desk.
Here's some of the crap on my desk right now: a 1:64 scale 24K Gold plated commemorative 50th Anniversary NASCAR diecast still in its original packaging, a lottery ticket from April 25 (LOSER), a tea light candle in a small glass covered in crepe paper squares that one of the kids made in elementary school, those things you grip and squeeze to build up your forearms, a dictionary, a thesaurus, a Bible (what the...??) a couple of checks that need to be deposited, a stapler that is so heavy it can double as a bludgeon, a basket I toss my magazines into when I'm done reading them so that I can pass them on to my friend Shellie, a photo of Thing 2, an accordion file folder, manila folders filled with paperwork that needs to be processed, a blood glucose monitoring system (for Lucy), a fork, a tape measure, several stacks of Official District 37 approved numbers and a canister filled with pencils that all have broken leads, pens that are all out of ink and scissors that won't cut. All this along with my dying-a-slow-death iMac, gigantic HP Printer that will not fax multiple page documents and laptop computer that is buried under the several manila folders filled with paperwork that needs to be processed.
I really need to stop typing and start cleaning but that would take effort and Lord knows I hate to make an effort.
Great, my BlackBerry just rang and while I could hear it, I couldn't find it in time. That's my cue to start cleaning.
How I'm able to find anything in this black hole of a desk is simply miraculous. It doesn't help that my desk is massive, although it's hard to tell from the photo. Seriously, this thing is almost 4 feet deep, 6-1/2 feet long along with a 3-1/2 foot return. All this means is that I have lots of space for crap on my desk. In my desk. Under my desk.
Here's some of the crap on my desk right now: a 1:64 scale 24K Gold plated commemorative 50th Anniversary NASCAR diecast still in its original packaging, a lottery ticket from April 25 (LOSER), a tea light candle in a small glass covered in crepe paper squares that one of the kids made in elementary school, those things you grip and squeeze to build up your forearms, a dictionary, a thesaurus, a Bible (what the...??) a couple of checks that need to be deposited, a stapler that is so heavy it can double as a bludgeon, a basket I toss my magazines into when I'm done reading them so that I can pass them on to my friend Shellie, a photo of Thing 2, an accordion file folder, manila folders filled with paperwork that needs to be processed, a blood glucose monitoring system (for Lucy), a fork, a tape measure, several stacks of Official District 37 approved numbers and a canister filled with pencils that all have broken leads, pens that are all out of ink and scissors that won't cut. All this along with my dying-a-slow-death iMac, gigantic HP Printer that will not fax multiple page documents and laptop computer that is buried under the several manila folders filled with paperwork that needs to be processed.
I really need to stop typing and start cleaning but that would take effort and Lord knows I hate to make an effort.
Great, my BlackBerry just rang and while I could hear it, I couldn't find it in time. That's my cue to start cleaning.
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