If you are not dead, I need you to call me ...

I get spam from time to time.  You know the kind, where the Nigerian prince has eleventy million dollars and he wants to give you half, but he needs you to send him $1200 to cover fees.  Because, naturally, if I was a Nigerian prince, I would randomly pick some strange person from America to assist me.

Well.  Today I got one.  And it is possibly the most hilarious thing I have ever read.  I have copied and pasted the entire thing below, because really, it was too amazing not to share.  The fact that it appears that the writer thinks I am dead, yet is sending me an email is just .... well, it's ridiculously funny.  I would love to respond and say that unfortunately, I am in fact dead.  However, I have manged to amass enough energy from the spectral plane to generate this email response allowing Mr Smith in West Virginia to claim my vast and previously unknown fortune.

I won't even go into a diatribe about misspellings and improper grammar.  The mistakes just make it that much more fun.  And seriously, I am tempted to respond, just for amusement.  If I knew I could do it safely and securely I would.  But I have no idea how all that scary tech stuff works, so I don't want to open myself up to any further issues.  But still ...

I AM SORRY TO SHOW YOU THIS IF IT'S NOT TRUE BUT I HAVE SENT YOU SO MANY EMAIL

THROUGH OUT LAST WEEK AFTER I HEART HIS BUT YOU COULD NOT ANSWER ME. I RECEIVED

AN EMAIL FROM BEARNARD WILLIAMS SMITH,

 HE CALLED THIS OFFICE YESTERDAY WITH THIS TELEPHONE NUMBER: +17038879002

INFORMED E THAT YOU ARE DEAD AS THE RESULT OF YOUR THREE DAYS SICKNESS AND HE

SAID THAT I SHOULD SEND HIM YOUR FUND IN ATM TO HIS ADDRESS AND HERE IS HIS

ADDRESS: AND HOME INFORMATION WHICH HE HAS PROVIDED AS FOLLOWS,NAME MR. BEARNARD

WILLIAMS SMITH Address:   #6 Chateau Grove Lane, Barboursville, West Virginia

25504: United States

  ACCORDING TO HIM ON OUR PHONE CONVERSATION AND EMAIL,

HE STATED  THAT HE IS YOUR NEXT OF KIN BENEFICIARY, AND HE ALSO TOLD US THAT YOU

INSTRUCTED HIM TO CLAIM YOUR PROPERTIES INCLUDING YOUR MONEY IN CASE IF YOU ARE

NO MORE TO BE FOUND ON EARTH AND THE AMOUNT IS US$7,5MILLION UNITED STATE DOLLAR

IN YOUR (ATM MASTER CARD)

I AM VERY SORRY TO HEAR THAT YOU ARE NO MORE TO BE FOUND ON EARTH AND I DON'T

KNOW THAT THIS IS THE REASON WHY YOU HAVE NOT REPLY TO ALL THE EMAIL I SENT TO

YOU REGARDING THE TRANSFER OF YOUR FUND.

BUT IF YOU ARE NOT DEAD I WILL NEED YOUR CALL TO BE SURE AND MAIL (D.H.L)

BECAUSE HE PROMISE THAT HE WILL PAY ALL THE DELIVERY FEE WHICH IS $105 TO ENABLE

US DELIVER THE (ATM MASTER CARD). TO HIM AND I WILL NOT RELEASE THIS FUND TO ANY

BODY BECAUSE I DON'T KNOW MR WILLIAMS SMITH, AND YOU DID NOT TOLD US THAT HE IS

YOUR NEXT OF KIN SO PLEASE THAT IS THE PROBLEM WE HAVE HERE RIGHT NOW SO GET

BACK TO US NOW AND ALSO TRY TO CALL US WITH THIS

HERE IS WHAT HE FORWORDED TO US ABOUT YOUR DEAD

Coffin being taken out of the cathedral

Pavarotti's coffin

YOURS FAITHFULLY

REV.DR. DOUGLAS MORRISON

E- MAIL (  okolojos@yahoo.co.jp )

Telephone Number +234 81 78553972 CALL US RIGHT AWAY

This is what my reply would be:

Dear Rev. Dr. Douglas Morrison,

I appreciate your concern for my mortal remains.  Alas, Mr. Bearnard Williams Smith is correct, and I have departed this realm for the celestial heavens.  I apologize for the delay in responding, but it has taken me considerable time and effort to amass the energy necessary to manipulate electronics from the spiritual plane.

As I am no longer in the mortal world, it would appear that Mr. Bearnard Williams Smith will claim his rights to my fortune.  A fortune that I was previously unaware existed.  However, since I have taken the time out of my busy spectral schedule to communicate with you, I thought I would share a few other details I have become aware of here in the Great Beyond.

It appears that Mr. Bearnard Williams Smith lives at Chateau Grove Senior Living.  However, the number given above is for a Verizon cell phone in Arlington.  For obvious reasons, I do not plan to call that number. Just know that if I did call it, I am pretty sure that the person answering it would not be Mr. Bearnard Williams Smith.  I should also add that it appears that this Senior Living Center is nestled behind a trucking company and a Steak N Shake, with the interstate running behind.  Bleak enrivons indeed.  I can completely understand why he would want to claim my vast fortune to escape his surroundings.

It would also appear that you sir are all over the globe.  Your email address is a Japanese exchange, though I have discovered that it is fairly simple to get a foreign email address with just a few clicks of the mouse, regardless of where you really are.  (God Bless Google at it's abilities to be manipulated in the supernatural realm).  Since the phone number provided has a Nigerian country code, I am guessing you are probably not in Japan.  Clever attempt though.  If I still had appendages, I'd give you a smattering of courtesy applause for your efforts.

I will close the the fact that I have never told you that Mr. Bearnard Williams Smith is my next of kin because, well, I have have never spoken with you. And, as I do not know anyone by that name, I am going to say that I am confident in my assessment that he is a stranger.  As are you.  I will also guess that there is in fact no US$7, Million, United State Dollar (ATM Master Card) for me.  And even if there was ... who besides possibly Beyonce would have a Master Card with a $7M limit.  And why would I claim it, given it's a CREDIT CARD, and I would be liable for the charges.  Even in the afterlife, I am not an idiot.  Nice try. Perhaps you would have more success with actual gainful employment.  Some refresher courses in proper spelling and grammar would also be a good idea.

Finally, I am, at this very moment, putting a hex on you from the grave.  Bibbity bobbity boo.

Sincerely,

Miss Hermoine Granger

Bachelor and birthing babies

This morning I had three specific things I wanted to talk about.  Now, I can only remember two.  I hate that.  So, here goes, and maybe the other one will come to me.

First, let me say that I do not watch The Bachelor.  Have never had the urge, don’t care for any of that nonsense.  My reality shows lean toward alligators and loggers … classy stuff.  But, I have seen and heard all the media the past few weeks about what an apparent douchemonkey the guy has been during the show.  And it made me wonder … maybe it’s intentional.

The show has been around forever.  It’s a formula, not a lot of deviation.  Doing the nice guy thing hasn't worked since there haven’t been a dozen happily ever afters.  And, from what I can vaguely recall, a few of the “nice guys” actually turned out to be assholes.  And that gets attention.  So, why not purposely enlist a jerk of douchey proportions to change it up a bit.

I can totally see the people on the show being like – Well, he’s good looking, but he’s kind of a dick.  What if we let him just be that way, or even encourage him to be an even bigger twatwaffle than normal.  It will be ratings gold.  And of course, no one else will know about it.  Let’s get everyone’s reactions to him being such an ass, so it seems more natural.

I’d believe in that possibility.  He gets paid.  He gets to screw around with a bunch of hot chicks.  And in the end, he doesn’t have to do all the fake romance engagement bullshit.  He takes his cash and goes on his merry way.  And maybe, a few of the women saw through it and walked away with no damage done.  And maybe, the one still standing at the end actually saw through the bullshit and really liked him for him.  Or not.  I mean, he’s pretty unlikable.  But, it could happen.

The Minion is in birthday countdown mode.  He is VERY excited to be turning 5.  Naturally, he is loving the conversation about him being born and being a baby.  So far, he has zero curiosity about how he got to be Minion-In-The-Belly.  But he definitely wants to know how he came out of the belly.  This morning he asked if, when he was born, he came out of my mouth.  I laughed and said no.  He was being giggly and silly, so I assumed that was the end of it. 

But, no.  Now we have Serious Face.  And he want to know, well, then where did he come out of my belly?  Did the doctor cut him out?  I said no, they didn't cut him out, though they did help him out.  From where?  Well … let’s just say that Mama was NOT prepared to have this conversation at 7 AM.  It’s possible I might have just stood there, blank faced, staring at him for a good minute or so, trying to decide what to say.

It’s not that I don’t want to get technical with him, but he is only (almost) 5, so I know I need to keep it pretty simple.  I told him boys and girls have different private parts, and that girl parts were special so that babies could be born, so that’s where he came from.  He thought that sounded pretty weird and kinda gross.  I felt like I came out of the conversation dodging a major bullet, and dreading the next phase when he finally decides to ask HOW he got in my belly to begin with.  The stork theory seems mighty appealing right now.

my sky obsession knows no bounds

So, as I might have mentioned ... I sort of have an obsession with taking pictures of the sky.  Sunrise, sunset, clouds, etc.  It's all just so damn amazing, and every single day I see about a hundred cool shots in my head as I am driving.  It's both frustrating and elating.

Last night, I went out into the backyard and spent 45 minutes playing with the camera.  It seemed like 5.  I could easily be lost in taking pictures for hours.  One Saturday, I am determined to get in the car and just drive the country roads, pulling over to shoot whatever catches my eye.  I'm gonna need a bigger memory card.

Here are a few shots of last night that I have to share.  Because they capture something to beautiful to keep to myself.  Enjoy.  Maybe I will work on figuring out how to make an income from them.  Surely someone, somewhere could use them for something.

Poop, and dreams, and changes suck

So far this year we have had health scares and car accidents and legal troubles and relationship troubles and I am ready for spring to be here and for everyone to just be happy and okay.  And by “we” I mean that my large extended family of relatives and friends alike.  Because their problems affect me too.  I worry and cry and stress right along with them, over all their troubles, just as they do mine.

So, I am ready for all the crap to be done and for the good stuff to kick in.  I have Spring Fever for sure.

Speaking of crap …

Because I apparently have the mind of a ten year old boy, I find poop hilarious and fascinating.  My child is a Super Pooper.  Once he was fully potty trained and pooping like a champ on the toilet, his big boy bowels apparently kicked into high gear, and that child is amazing.  I cannot believe that so much can come from something so small.  There are times when I want to take a picture just for proof.

But then common sense kicks in, and I realize I am weird enough as it is.  If I go around showing people pictures of my kid’s bowel movements with comments like, “Look at the sheer volume! How is that possible?!” … well, I don’t need to draw any more attention to my questionable sanity.  It’s a strange state of being amazed and oddly proud of his pooping prowess.

He can pee like a champ too, and I am convinced that he could hit the toilet from a good ten feet away.  It’s impressive.

Maybe it’s because I am a girl and don’t have all the dangly bits.  Or maybe he’s like supernaturally gifted in bowel/bladder elimination.  Either way, I am constantly impressed and horrified by his accomplishments.  Especially since he “doesn’t like the sound” of the toilet flushing and I have to practically beat him to get him to flush when he’s done.  I told him this morning that he needed to get over it because he would be flushing the toilet for the rest of his life.  He looked at me, totally deadpan, and said “nuh uh”.  It would not surprise me at all to discover he has already conceived a plan for getting others to do the flushing for him.  He’s diabolical like that.

This morning, we were laying on the bed, and he was telling me about his dream last night.  We are ALWAYS running late in the mornings, and I know we need to get better at this because it is just not acceptable for him to be late to kindergarten every morning.  But I figure we have till August to get that worked out.  So, in the mornings, we run late.  Because, if he wants to lay there for ten minutes telling me about his dream … Well, then I will lay there and cuddle him and listen.  That’s Super Important Stuff.  And yes, I will work on earlier wake-up times that will allow this to continue while still getting us out the door on time.  But for now, I don’t stress it.

It always starts the same … “Mama, guess what I dreamed about last night?”  And I will ask what, and he will tell me.  This time it was Star Wars.  Always a cool dream, and worthy of hearing.  He was a Jedi with Luke Skywalker and Darth Vader was a good guy and they were fighting the stormtroopers.  And Princess Leia did not have a lightsaber, but she got a gun from one of the stormtroopers, so she was shooting them.  Then she dressed up in a stormtrooper suit and snuck into the stormtroopers lair (Yes, he used the word lair.  God I love this kid.), and was blasting them.  And Han Solo was there somewhere.  I guess just hanging out, looking cool.  I really didn’t get the specifics.  It was a very detailed telling, and I love that he has such a big imagination.  My dreams are never anywhere near being that cool.

Sweet dreams … or not …

I remember a lot of my dreams.  And I do have some dreams frequently.  Same scenario, or even exact same.  Which is a little freaky.

I also dream about snakes a lot.  Or being bitten by snakes.  I know there’s got to be some sort of big Freudian analysis there, but whatever.  I think it’s probably stress.  When I am subconsciously worried about something, I dream of snakes biting me.  Maybe one snake, maybe dozens.  Always different events, different places, different things happening around me.  But always with the snakes.  Considering that snakes creep me the fuck out, it’s not pleasant. 

For years, my mental cue that I was troubled about something was my high school boyfriend.  He would pop up in a dream, and I would know that my brain was definitely worried about something.  I very rarely ever had interaction with him, he would just sorta be there, in the background.  I actually prefer the snakes.

I also dream about my teeth falling out a lot.  Not just like, loose tooth falls out, but like they crumble in my mouth and I am spitting out chunks of tooth.  This is definitely a stress dream, according to various dream interpretations.  But I don’t seem to have them when I am stressed … that’s the snakes.  Dear Lord, with the snakes.  I would definitely prefer the teeth to the snakes.  Although the teeth thing is also pretty disconcerting and always leaves me feeling sort of unsettled when I wake up.

One of the best, and most frustrating, things is flying.  Not like superhero flying.  More just like hovering about 6 feet off the ground and sort of floating around.  Actually, it’s a lot like The Gentlemen from Buffy.  Only, I don’t have the scary face and I am higher off the ground.  But the movement is similar.  I would LOVE to be able to hover in real life.  Or teleport.  I’d give a boob to be able to do that.  Seriously.

And of course, there’s the all too common “I didn’t finish 5^th grade social studies so I have to go back and do that” type dream.  I actually like these, because they are so funny.  I actually stress in the dream about how am I going to go back and take 10^th grade geometry again when I have to work.  I find that funny.  And it’s ALWAYS a math class.  I really, really dislike math.

For the longest time, any time I got in a car to drive, it would turn into a bicycle.  Now, it stays a car, but it’s more of an open sided go kart kind of vehicle than an actual car.  And I do generally have trouble navigating in it.  No idea what that’s about.  I drive all the time, only had a couple of accidents, none too traumatic or with serious injuries.  One of those little brain quirks that amuses me.

The one dream that I don’t have much anymore, than goodness, is the one where my grandmother is still alive.  It’s always that she left and we thought she was dead, but she comes back and she’s alive, and I spend most of the time asking her why she left and what took so long to come back and why she wants to leave again, and I always wake up crying and sad and I just really, really hate those dreams.  I’ve heard some people say that when you dream of someone that has died, it’s them visiting you in your dream.  And I am cool with that.  By all means, come see me.  But stop making it so damn traumatic, EVERY. SINGLE. TIME.  It’s just too damn hard to deal with.

And how in the world did I just totally digress into all that nonsense?  Not at all what I had planned.  Seems to always happen that way.  That’s the joy of just starting to type and seeing what falls out of your brain.

I struggle sometimes with what to write.  Should I be a “mommy” blog type, even though there are so many of those and I am not that girl?  Should I try for the funny?  The smart?  The statement?  I don’t know.  I don’t have a genre or a goal or a target audience.  So, I just sit and start typing and go with what happens.  Sometimes it’s funny, or serious, or sad.  But it’s all me.  And I can live with that.  I’m not fancy.  Pretty goofy.  A little odd.  Kinda like this place. 

Parting is such sweet sorrow …

Somehow, I have become the Office Mom.  I am cool with that actually.  I have the “Mom Box”, which is the box full of aspirin and Tums and band-aids and all that good stuff.  I also have favorites.   My favorite Newman (I didn't watch Seinfeld regularly, but I know Newman.  He’s totally my Newman), that I just loved to hate, left at the end first of the year.  I miss his smart-ass remarks, though I have seen him several times since he left.  But today is a sad day because Mom’s favorite kid is leaving to go on to bigger and better things.  I will miss him.  He’s the one that I cut up with and text smart ass comments back and forth with.  The favorite. 

So, now I have to find a replacement for him.  Big shoes to fill.  Not looking forward to it.  He walked out the door ten minutes ago, and the first interview to replace him is in two hours.  I dread it already.

fancy camera does pretty things

I got me a real big girl fancy pants camera for Christmas.  I am still figuring it out.

It has lenses that change.  And settings.  Oh, so many settings.

But, it does super neat things to pictures.  I mean, I took some cool pictures before, but now ... Super Cool Pictures.  It's like a super hero camera.  Without the cape.

 Possibly the coolest thing I have ever taken involving fog.  I have tried to capture fog for years with my tiny digital, but no luck.  But now ... look out fog - I am coming for you.










Yeah, so fog obsession.  Also, sunset obsession.  I mean ... just LOOK AT THIS:

Serious coolness with the colors and the depth there.  I feel like a monkey with a camera at this point, so I am super impressed with myself for actually making something that looks pretty damn cool.

These two are from yesterday morning with the whole icepocalypse snowmageddon thing happening.  I actually used the close up setting on the first to blur the background a bit, and it looks pretty neat.

I find myself driving around and seeing so many things that I wish I could just pull over and take a picture of.  Maybe someday I will.  Once I get over the worry of being even more late, or being run over.