Dearest Friends:
It’s a sad day here in my corner of the internet. After much anger and frustration, I finally decided to block all of my incoming email. You see, every single day, I’m nearly drowning in spam. It’s a tidal wave. A tsunami. A flood of biblical proportions. And I hate it. So now what I have to do is filter out all the mail I actually want to receive. It’s mostly working. I still have to look through my trash before deleting emails permanently, but it’s worth the effort to not have 90% of the messages in my inbox constantly reminding me that my dick is smaller than most women prefer. It was starting to keep me awake at night. Also, you would think that if you own two domains, that would mean that you get twice as much spam as with one domain. However, this is not the case. It multiplies exponentially. Try owning six or eight domains. Then slap yourself, hard, for thinking that was a good idea in the first place. So if you email me and I don’t reply, there are two possible reasons:- Your email got deleted by my spam filter, and I overlooked it.
- I hate you, you fuck.
Hopefully this will clear up any confusion.
Moving on, the last few days have been eventful. So eventful that I can’t really remember what happened, except that they involved various people I know, some locations in this area, events and activities, and not enough sleep. Some of the things I’ve discovered recently:- When I go without a haircut for too long, my morning hair puts Robert Smith to shame.
- Gay boys love to flirt with girls, apparently not realizing that it confuses them, especially when it keeps happening over and over, causing one girl in particular to question whether she’s being mistaken for a boy or something. Thankfully, Alex explained everything. A message for flirty gay boys: stop it. Especially when you’re so damn cute.
- Crafts rock. Have you been to a craft store lately? So, I’m working on this thing that I’m not telling you about (yet). The other night, Heather and I went to Michaels, and, holy crap, I had an epiphany. Crafts have come a long way since latch-hook and macrame (not that latch-hook and macrame aren’t totally hot, because they are). My favorite was the make-your-own-clothes section. Nowadays, you can bedazzle shit six ways from Sunday and still keep coming back for more. It’s kind of incredible.
- Just when you think you might have to give in and take one of those 40-hour-a-week-in-an-office type jobs, something comes up. This is perfect, because you don’t want one of those jobs, even if it is only for 3 or 6 months. You’ve come to like your current existence, which involves wearing the same crappy clothes every day, and running your business from such diversified locations as the coffeeshop, the lake, your car, and your very own dining room table. Life is good.
- Even if I do finally understand the Justin Timberlake – Michael Jackson connection, I still don’t think he sucks any less.
- Today I had to question which was a bigger indication that I was maybe a little nuts: spending 20 minutes on my back on the floor underneath the coffee table, cleaning the cats’ noseprints off the glass, picturing a scenario in which friends arrive for sushi tonight, take one look at the table, say, ‘Disgusting! You people live like animals!’, and then leave, never speaking to us again; or, the fact that I realized, while lying under the table, that I was having a ‘Sixteen Candles’ moment, and I was, in fact, Anthony Michael Hall.
- My next-door neighbor is the current leader in the ‘world’s unhappiest human’ competition. Right now, she’s watering my lawn. I’m considering faking my own death so she doesn’t get the mistaken notion that I want to talk to her. Ever.
Uh-huh. Ok. Bye.
Jenni