They made plans with me for tonight. I turned down three other things to do. Then at 4 this afternoon... "Oh, we have decided we aren't going to go to the play after all."
So I am here... alone (hubby is working) writing this. I could rant and rave a bit more, but I think instead I will just go to bed.
Showing posts with label Laura Jayne. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Laura Jayne. Show all posts
Friday, May 8, 2009
Friday, February 20, 2009
Drive Safely
When my daughter was a senior in high school she was part of a program where they tried to show the kids the dangers of drinking and driving. It was all coordinated with the local police and firemen, they staged an accident in front of the school complete with a couple of pretend dead and injured kids, they "arrested" one girl and booked her at the police station, they took a group to the morgue, and every hour they would remove on of the participants from class and read their obituary over the loud speaker in a metaphor for how often some one dies in a drunk driving accident. All this was filmed and put together for an assembly that we were invited to.
Part of my participation was to write my daughter's obituary. I was cleaning out some of my writing files this morning and found it. I am sitting here right now with tears streaming down my face rereading this and thinking of how fragile it all is. All four of my children are well and healthy and now 22, 21, 20 & 20, but in a moment that can change. Please, always drive safe and sane, my babies are out there with you.
Here is what I wrote for that day (remember, this was a school event to show the costs of drunk driving, my daughter didn't really die)...
Jessica Mae
Born – September 19, 1988 – Died May 23, 2006
Jessica, beloved daughter of Laura and Kenneth died because of the horrendous mistake of a person who got behind the wheel of their car drunk. Jessica was loved for her generous spirit, her warm friendship and her love of life. She was a good student who had only recently learned of her acceptance into the freshman class at the University of California Riverside. She dreamed of studying English and History and wanted to use her education to make a difference in the lives of others.
Jessica loved to help others and was the LinkCrew commissioner at Etiwanda High School. She shared her love of learning with others, tutoring and reading to young children.
Her parents and siblings - Matthew, Aimee and Mitchell survive Jessica. Her maternal grandparents Nancy and Rick and her paternal grandparents Pat and Chuck also survive her. She will be missed by her aunts, uncles, cousins and all of her many friends.
He who has gone, so we but cherish his memory, abides with us, more potent, nay, more present than the living man. - Antoine de Saint Éxupéry
Part of my participation was to write my daughter's obituary. I was cleaning out some of my writing files this morning and found it. I am sitting here right now with tears streaming down my face rereading this and thinking of how fragile it all is. All four of my children are well and healthy and now 22, 21, 20 & 20, but in a moment that can change. Please, always drive safe and sane, my babies are out there with you.
Here is what I wrote for that day (remember, this was a school event to show the costs of drunk driving, my daughter didn't really die)...
Jessica Mae Born – September 19, 1988 – Died May 23, 2006
Jessica, beloved daughter of Laura and Kenneth died because of the horrendous mistake of a person who got behind the wheel of their car drunk. Jessica was loved for her generous spirit, her warm friendship and her love of life. She was a good student who had only recently learned of her acceptance into the freshman class at the University of California Riverside. She dreamed of studying English and History and wanted to use her education to make a difference in the lives of others.
Jessica loved to help others and was the LinkCrew commissioner at Etiwanda High School. She shared her love of learning with others, tutoring and reading to young children.
Her parents and siblings - Matthew, Aimee and Mitchell survive Jessica. Her maternal grandparents Nancy and Rick and her paternal grandparents Pat and Chuck also survive her. She will be missed by her aunts, uncles, cousins and all of her many friends.
He who has gone, so we but cherish his memory, abides with us, more potent, nay, more present than the living man. - Antoine de Saint Éxupéry
Wednesday, February 18, 2009
Twelve
She stood with her back against the wall
counting the grey tiles between
herself and the doorway
They went in, they came out, none spoke to her
She stood with her back against the wall
twelve tiles between her and seeing him
She heard the cry of agony
twelve steps would take her to him
instead she turned away, faced the wall weeping
Twelve steps were not enough this night
to keep her from harming
the one who had tried to save her
Written from the prompt at Daily Writing Practice Empty Hallway
counting the grey tiles between
herself and the doorway
They went in, they came out, none spoke to her
She stood with her back against the wall
twelve tiles between her and seeing him
She heard the cry of agony
twelve steps would take her to him
instead she turned away, faced the wall weeping
Twelve steps were not enough this night
to keep her from harming
the one who had tried to save her
Written from the prompt at Daily Writing Practice Empty Hallway
Wednesday, February 4, 2009
Grump Certificate
Feel free to copy and adjust wording to suit your
needs and current grumpy person in your life.
Monday, February 2, 2009
(Silent) Poetry Reading
Giving Up
I gave up on Writing today.
He was quite
upset with me.
“You have nothing to offer me.
Nothing published, no
acceptance letter in the mail.
What do I need you for?” I said.
“But
I give you beauty and understanding.”
he answered simply.
“Ha! I
understand.
I understand that I give until the little
drops of blood
fall onto the paper
and no one will pay me for any of it.
What do I need
you for?”
Writing was sullen and turned his back on me.
The view
out the window dulled.
The air grew heavy and pressed down on me.
Colors
all faded to a sickly grey.
Joy, once my inspiration, gasped for breath.
______________________________________________
Offered for the Gold Puppy Blog Fourth Annual (Silent) Poetry Reading. I posted one at A Bit of Laura Jayne too, but thought might be okay to have a bright and pretty one there and a bit darker poem here for your silent reading. If you are inspired to share on your blog do let me know.
What?
A Bloggers (Silent) Poetry Reading
When?
Anytime February 2, 2009
Where?
Your blog
Why?
Some poetry is warming. It cracks the ice in the heart of the Earth to remind her that spring is just around the corner. Or ... if you live south of the equator, choose poetry to cool the heart of the Earth so as to remind her fall is coming.
How?
Select a poem you like - by a favorite poet or one of your own - to post February 2nd.
What else?
Feel free to pass this invitation on to any and all bloggers.
Tuesday, January 27, 2009
Hannah’s Dream
"All… most… there,” he said, grunting into her ear.
She clenched her teeth fighting the urge to vomit. This was the final payment necessary. Just this one last time.
With a guttural moan he at last rolled off her body.
"Was it worth it Hannah?” he asked, his meaty hand still groping at her. He seldom called her by name, preferring instead horrid little nicknames that made her ache inside. Hannah curled on her side moving away from his sweaty hand.
Was it worth it? Such a question to ask after extracting such a payment. But Hannah would not allow herself the luxury of regret now. She had made the final payment and now it was hers.
Hannah moved from the bed and into the tiny bathroom. A small trickle of brown water was all that came from the rusted faucet. She splashed her face and then ran the small grimy towel under the water. She knew she couldn’t get truly clean, but it was enough just to scrub his stench from her skin.
"So are you really sure it’s worth the risk? Why do you want it so bad?” he yelled at her from the bed.
That was all she could take. She had paid him in full; the very idea of having to explain herself to him made her nearly as sick as the act she had just submitted herself to.
"Don’t, don’t you dare, ask me these things you man. Is it worth the risk?” she said as she buttoned her worn dress glaring at him. "Don’t you for a moment think I don’t know the risk. I know all too well, torture, death, or worse. Yes, men will always think of something worse. As for why I want it? How could I ever begin to explain that to you.” Hannah spat at him as he lay there; flaccid, fat, sweaty, man. "I paid you well for it. I paid for your silence too. It is mine now, and I want it."
"Fine, go take it. It’s out there on the shelf, one of the few left in the territory. I suppose you’ve earned it,” he said, tugging up his trouser, but not bothering to fasten them. He followed her into the main room, and watched as she took it from the shelf. She clutched it to her chest. Her excitement at owning such a treasure caused her to become almost lightheaded. She made her way to the cash register.
"Put your mark here, so I know it is paid for in full. Here, sign here, that I have paid you.” Hannah thrust the worn bit of paper that he had marked with her debt just over a month ago.
"Why you want to keep the receipt? That’s just more proof of your disregard for the laws. They can track this you know?” He snatched for the scrap of paper, but Hannah held it tight, pointing to where she wanted his signature.
"I won’t ever be coming back, but you mark it none the less. That way we both know this is paid for. I paid your price. I want you to sign!”
He licked his lips and sneered at her, but did as she asked, putting his big black letters on the little bit of paper with its unintelligible scribbles that he had used to claim her body.
Hannah turned away from him then. She made her way out of the dank store and into the street, breathing deeply the cold air of life. The setting sun provided no warmth for her as she stepped over the rubble and trash that littered the broken sidewalk. As quick as she could she made her way through the maze of alleys and back streets towards her small home.
"You, you there, girl. You there, stop!” Came the order from behind her. Hannah tried not to scream in surprise and sudden dread. She turned and watched the two uniformed men descend from the end of the alley towards her.
"Where are you going so fast little one?” The taller of the two asked.
"Home, Sir. I know I have broken curfew, but really I couldn’t help it Sir, really."
"You know you are not allowed out without a man as escort after the final bell.”
The smaller, weasely looking of the two said, poking at her with his night-weapon for emphasis.
"I know Sir. That’s why I was hurrying. I only live there, just up there.” Hannah pointed to the crumbling brick building that loomed next to them.
"What is your classification girl?"
"I am F14, Sir."
"Let me see your papers.”
Hannah struggled to keep her purchase tucked under her arm, beneath her dress, as she fumbled in her pocket for her papers. She thrust them at the two holding her breath. They hadn’t noticed she was hiding something, yet.
"It says here you’ll be ready for service next month. See right here, where it shows your birthday. You’ll be ready to be military issue then.” The weasely one lifted her chin with his night-weapon, his lecherous look made Hannah’s skin crawl. "It also says here you live across the city. Look here, read that address.”
Hannah dropped her eyes, wondering if they could smell her terror. "I can’t, Sir. Please you know I can’t. But, I know the address is wrong. We were forced to move in the last bombing, no new papers have been issued."
"Of course you can’t read it. And that is the way it will stay now that we have taken charge. Stupid illiterate women are only good for one thing, now.” Then to Hannah’s relief he said, "Go on. But don’t think I won’t remember your name and request you special. In just a month, little Hannah."
The two sentries laughed at her as she hurried away. She knew she had been luckier than most. Such encounters usually resulted in rape or often worse. Even though the military were provided with as many fifteen year old girls as they wanted, most still thought it was their right to take by force any strays they found on the street.
Hannah locked the door behind her after at least reaching the safety of home. "Momma, I have it. This is the key Momma.” Hannah dropped onto the floor next her mother, who sat silently in the worn chair, the only piece of furniture in the room. She looked up into her mother’s once beautiful face. Hannah opened it for the first time then, and solemnly traced the letters on the page. "S, see I know that is an S, Momma. It says, ‘See Jane run.’” Hannah struggled to sound out the precious words that Momma had tried to teach her using only dust and her finger so many years ago now. But that was before they had taken Momma’s eyes, eyes that had been taught to read before the annexation. Now Momma only had empty, sunken sockets where her pretty blue eyes had once been. But Hannah knew now she would learn, and she would read to Momma. Yes, she would learn, then she would teach others, and with knowledge they would fight, fight and win back their freedom. This was Hannah’s dream, something she would sacrifice everything for. Hannah read on, ‘See Jane run. Run Jane run.’
She clenched her teeth fighting the urge to vomit. This was the final payment necessary. Just this one last time.
With a guttural moan he at last rolled off her body.
"Was it worth it Hannah?” he asked, his meaty hand still groping at her. He seldom called her by name, preferring instead horrid little nicknames that made her ache inside. Hannah curled on her side moving away from his sweaty hand.
Was it worth it? Such a question to ask after extracting such a payment. But Hannah would not allow herself the luxury of regret now. She had made the final payment and now it was hers.
Hannah moved from the bed and into the tiny bathroom. A small trickle of brown water was all that came from the rusted faucet. She splashed her face and then ran the small grimy towel under the water. She knew she couldn’t get truly clean, but it was enough just to scrub his stench from her skin.
"So are you really sure it’s worth the risk? Why do you want it so bad?” he yelled at her from the bed.
That was all she could take. She had paid him in full; the very idea of having to explain herself to him made her nearly as sick as the act she had just submitted herself to.
"Don’t, don’t you dare, ask me these things you man. Is it worth the risk?” she said as she buttoned her worn dress glaring at him. "Don’t you for a moment think I don’t know the risk. I know all too well, torture, death, or worse. Yes, men will always think of something worse. As for why I want it? How could I ever begin to explain that to you.” Hannah spat at him as he lay there; flaccid, fat, sweaty, man. "I paid you well for it. I paid for your silence too. It is mine now, and I want it."
"Fine, go take it. It’s out there on the shelf, one of the few left in the territory. I suppose you’ve earned it,” he said, tugging up his trouser, but not bothering to fasten them. He followed her into the main room, and watched as she took it from the shelf. She clutched it to her chest. Her excitement at owning such a treasure caused her to become almost lightheaded. She made her way to the cash register.
"Put your mark here, so I know it is paid for in full. Here, sign here, that I have paid you.” Hannah thrust the worn bit of paper that he had marked with her debt just over a month ago.
"Why you want to keep the receipt? That’s just more proof of your disregard for the laws. They can track this you know?” He snatched for the scrap of paper, but Hannah held it tight, pointing to where she wanted his signature.
"I won’t ever be coming back, but you mark it none the less. That way we both know this is paid for. I paid your price. I want you to sign!”
He licked his lips and sneered at her, but did as she asked, putting his big black letters on the little bit of paper with its unintelligible scribbles that he had used to claim her body.
Hannah turned away from him then. She made her way out of the dank store and into the street, breathing deeply the cold air of life. The setting sun provided no warmth for her as she stepped over the rubble and trash that littered the broken sidewalk. As quick as she could she made her way through the maze of alleys and back streets towards her small home.
"You, you there, girl. You there, stop!” Came the order from behind her. Hannah tried not to scream in surprise and sudden dread. She turned and watched the two uniformed men descend from the end of the alley towards her.
"Where are you going so fast little one?” The taller of the two asked.
"Home, Sir. I know I have broken curfew, but really I couldn’t help it Sir, really."
"You know you are not allowed out without a man as escort after the final bell.”
The smaller, weasely looking of the two said, poking at her with his night-weapon for emphasis.
"I know Sir. That’s why I was hurrying. I only live there, just up there.” Hannah pointed to the crumbling brick building that loomed next to them.
"What is your classification girl?"
"I am F14, Sir."
"Let me see your papers.”
Hannah struggled to keep her purchase tucked under her arm, beneath her dress, as she fumbled in her pocket for her papers. She thrust them at the two holding her breath. They hadn’t noticed she was hiding something, yet.
"It says here you’ll be ready for service next month. See right here, where it shows your birthday. You’ll be ready to be military issue then.” The weasely one lifted her chin with his night-weapon, his lecherous look made Hannah’s skin crawl. "It also says here you live across the city. Look here, read that address.”
Hannah dropped her eyes, wondering if they could smell her terror. "I can’t, Sir. Please you know I can’t. But, I know the address is wrong. We were forced to move in the last bombing, no new papers have been issued."
"Of course you can’t read it. And that is the way it will stay now that we have taken charge. Stupid illiterate women are only good for one thing, now.” Then to Hannah’s relief he said, "Go on. But don’t think I won’t remember your name and request you special. In just a month, little Hannah."
The two sentries laughed at her as she hurried away. She knew she had been luckier than most. Such encounters usually resulted in rape or often worse. Even though the military were provided with as many fifteen year old girls as they wanted, most still thought it was their right to take by force any strays they found on the street.
Hannah locked the door behind her after at least reaching the safety of home. "Momma, I have it. This is the key Momma.” Hannah dropped onto the floor next her mother, who sat silently in the worn chair, the only piece of furniture in the room. She looked up into her mother’s once beautiful face. Hannah opened it for the first time then, and solemnly traced the letters on the page. "S, see I know that is an S, Momma. It says, ‘See Jane run.’” Hannah struggled to sound out the precious words that Momma had tried to teach her using only dust and her finger so many years ago now. But that was before they had taken Momma’s eyes, eyes that had been taught to read before the annexation. Now Momma only had empty, sunken sockets where her pretty blue eyes had once been. But Hannah knew now she would learn, and she would read to Momma. Yes, she would learn, then she would teach others, and with knowledge they would fight, fight and win back their freedom. This was Hannah’s dream, something she would sacrifice everything for. Hannah read on, ‘See Jane run. Run Jane run.’
Monday, January 26, 2009
A Day at the Office
It was this morning’s demand for coffee no cream,
yes, it was that moment that popped my spine in two.
I flopped around my cubicle in mild confusion
as limbs unable to communicate with
brain tried independently to give
two weeks notice.
The boss looked over the cubicle wall and,
observing I was busy and productively flopping,
obviously getting the job at hand,
left or right?, done,
walked away with the sure knowledge that
he’d inspired.
One arm reached for the phone,
one for the computer keyboard and both
pinky fingers tapped out their individual SOS,
all the while, left big toe flipped the Rolodex round
searching, in vain?, for the toll free number
to sanity.
yes, it was that moment that popped my spine in two.
I flopped around my cubicle in mild confusion
as limbs unable to communicate with
brain tried independently to give
two weeks notice.
The boss looked over the cubicle wall and,
observing I was busy and productively flopping,
obviously getting the job at hand,
left or right?, done,
walked away with the sure knowledge that
he’d inspired.
One arm reached for the phone,
one for the computer keyboard and both
pinky fingers tapped out their individual SOS,
all the while, left big toe flipped the Rolodex round
searching, in vain?, for the toll free number
to sanity.
Friday, January 23, 2009
11 p.m. - 2 a.m.
I know this is a bit hard to see, but this is right behind my house, last night, at about midnight. I turned off the flash on the camera so as not to appear totally Mrs. Cravetz.
We live in a nice, quiet, California suburban neighborhood. It is usually lovely and peaceful at midnight. But last night at about 11 p.m. the girl in the white car got in a fight with her boyfriend behind our house. Screaming and caterwauling (that is probably an archaic word, but I think it fits her fit) and he was screaming and cussing and the quiet peace was quite broken. And I was awake.
And then the cops came, and their lights shown into our bedroom window flashing blue and red. And they talked, and the girl screamed some more and the guy took off and the cop cars chased him around the neighborhood and I was awake. Then the fire truck came, because apparently in all this someone hit someone else and someone had to be examined and of course it makes perfect sense to send out the huge diesel fire truck and have it too park right behind my house at a nice and steady idle. Sheesh. And at some point the poor little boy who was in the car through all of this chaos could be heard calling out, "Mommy, I have to go potty." He repeated this about ten times and my heart just broke for a child in this situation.
So from 11 p.m. to 2 a.m. I was awake, and irritated and today, I am beyond tired. People just need to be... well... just take better care of your precious babies. Don't fight with crazy people on drugs, and please don't do it on the street behind my house.
Wednesday, January 21, 2009
Blue Monday
Grrrrr!!! I missed knowing it was the most depressing day of the year on Monday, January 19th.
According to Cliff Arnell, a former part-time tutor at Cardiff College, a school that barely wants to acknowledge he was even an employee (their press release after Mr. Arnell made his depressing finding known was..."Cliff Arnall was a former part-time tutor at the university but left in February"), the Monday of the last full week of January has the honor of being the most depressing day of the year. Wikipedia expands on this further should you care to read the pseudo-science on the pseudo-encyclopedia - Blue Monday
Apparently the formula looks like this:
W + (D-d) x TQ
The variables are (W)eather, (D)ebt, (d) monthly salary, (T)ime since Christmas, time since failure to (Q)uit a bad habit, low (M)otivational levels and (NA), the need to take action.
According to Cliff Arnell, a former part-time tutor at Cardiff College, a school that barely wants to acknowledge he was even an employee (their press release after Mr. Arnell made his depressing finding known was..."Cliff Arnall was a former part-time tutor at the university but left in February"), the Monday of the last full week of January has the honor of being the most depressing day of the year. Wikipedia expands on this further should you care to read the pseudo-science on the pseudo-encyclopedia - Blue Monday
Apparently the formula looks like this:
W + (D-d) x TQ
M x NA
The variables are (W)eather, (D)ebt, (d) monthly salary, (T)ime since Christmas, time since failure to (Q)uit a bad habit, low (M)otivational levels and (NA), the need to take action.
Now, it has been quite a while since my last algebra final (which I did get an A- on) but I am not entirely sure this equation makes any mathematical sense. But hurray for some guy to come up with the formula anyway.
So let's see, other potential non-sensical formulas -
E=PC+40
Where the variables are (E)xpenses = (P)ay(C)heck + 40. Now this just has to be scientifically true, because no matter how much money I make I seem to always be $40 short by the end of the week.
H=(LXH)-(BXA)/K-L-D
Where the variable are (H)appiness = (L)oveX(H)ubby-(B)ossX(A)rseness/(K)ids-(L)aundry-(D)ishes
Oh, and here is one more...
(B-T)X(W-T)X(R-T)X(E-T)=0
Where T is time and B, W, R and E are Blogging, Working, Reading and Everything else equals zero. Yes, I know it doesn't make any sense, but neither does the Monday of the last full week of the year being depressing make any sense.
Tuesday, January 20, 2009
Mmmmm Mmmmmm Mmmmmmm
Mmmmmmm - by Crash Test Dummies which is strangely depressing seamlessly merged with Weird Al's version. Perfectly dysfunctional video.
Monday, January 19, 2009
Saturday, January 17, 2009
Spam
Do NOT click on these links, one of many comments left in the last 5 minutes....
superior has left a new comment on your post "Ho Ho Ho":
cheap handbags
evening
handbag
handbags online
ladies
handbag
luxury handbag
Damn the bots. Do they really think people want to click on their links... sighhhhhh. Seventeen messages in seconds. So the word verification is back on all the blogs. As I really didn't think you wanted their cheap handbags.
Friday, January 16, 2009
Thursday, January 15, 2009
Homeless
Dirty pants and cheeks with days old stubble
has the man who sits near the entrance to the department store where
........................I am to get shiny new shoes.
.............Momma says sharply, “Don’t look him in the eye.”
I wonder then what would happen to me
if Momma let me sit there on the cold sidewalk.
........................If I sit next to the man
.............with the stained shirt and black teeth
will all the people wearing shiny shoes
turn away and not look me in the eye?
........................I wonder too if Momma would
.............just walk on by if I sat there
near the entrance to the department store,
a girl with no shiny shoes. Would she look in the eye
........................a girl who was not nearly as perfect outside or in
.............as a momma wanted her
..................................................to be?
has the man who sits near the entrance to the department store where
........................I am to get shiny new shoes.
.............Momma says sharply, “Don’t look him in the eye.”
I wonder then what would happen to me
if Momma let me sit there on the cold sidewalk.
........................If I sit next to the man
.............with the stained shirt and black teeth
will all the people wearing shiny shoes
turn away and not look me in the eye?
........................I wonder too if Momma would
.............just walk on by if I sat there
near the entrance to the department store,
a girl with no shiny shoes. Would she look in the eye
........................a girl who was not nearly as perfect outside or in
.............as a momma wanted her
..................................................to be?
Wednesday, January 14, 2009
Happy Happy Awards
I am going to break my own rules and share with you some of my exciting and happy news...
In the last hour I have become unbelievably rich just by checking my email...
LUCKY NUMBERS: 8-4-1-9-0-0-5-12
Be informed that you emerged a winner of €1,000,000 (One million Euro) which was conducted this year.ashleythompson06@googlemail.com for more details. - I just need to send them a cashiers check for some random amount to collect my winnings.
Dear Sir/Madam, My name is Mr.West Bernard, and I work in the International operation department in a Local Bank here in South Africa On a routine inspection, I discovered a dormant domiciliary account with a BAL Of 36,000,000 (Thirty Six Million USD) on further discreet investigation I also discovered that the account holder has long since passed away(DEAD)leaving no beneficiary to the account the bank will approve this money to any foreigner because the former operator of the A/c is a foreigner and from Iraq in particular and I am certainly sure that he is DEAD and nobody will come again for the claim of this money it is only a foreigner that can claim this money with propear information. I need your cooperation to clear this money from the bank. - All I need to do is give them my bank account number and password.
This is to officially inform you that we have verified your contract file presently on my desk, and I found out that you have not received your payment due to your lack of co-operation and not fulfilling the obligations giving to you in respect to your payment.
We will send you an ATM CARD which you will use to withdraw your money via ATM MACHINE in any part of the world, and the maximum daily limit is ($1,000) However, Note that this method of payment will be granted if it is acceptable to you for the release of your contract/inheritance entitlement.
In View of this, you are advised to contact the Director(CBN, IRD,and ATM) DR.PAUL ADIM for further information with the following contact details; (dr.pauladim.cbn1@gmail.com)
You are required to provide the following information:
(1) Your Full Name(2) Full residential address(3) Phone And Fax Number(4) Occupation(5) Age
- Well now I better hurry I have already not been co-operative. I can't wait to be co-operative now so that I can get all this money.
We are pleased to inform you that your e-mail address has won the Swiss On-lineLottery. Therefore you have been approved for a lump sum payout ( £1, 500000.00 ) One Million Five Hundred Thousand Pounds Sterling in the Swiss On-lineLottery program held on 12th January 2009, and released today 14th January 2009. - WOW... two lotteries in one day!!!
So perhaps I will offer up all my bank account numbers, my name, address, phone numbers, first born bambino, toe rings, and a lock of my hair just to be sure I get all these wonderfully kind people want to send me.
What could possibly go wrong with that, these seem like very upfront and honest offers?
P.S. And I just got one more...
However, I hereby seek your consent to cooperate with me so that I canprovide you the winning information that won the prize funds of8,497,985 to enable you apply for the claim of the funds. Once the funds ispaid to you, Our mode of sharing will be on a 50......... 50 basis. i.e 50%will be for me while the remaining 50% will be for you.
All I require from you is your honest cooperation and confidentiality inthis regard to enable us see this transaction through. I guarantee thatthis will be executed under a legitimate arrangement that will protectyou from any breach of the law as I have mapped out all plans to ensure weclaim this funds without any trace in the future.
I look forward to your quick response while thanking you for youranticipated co-operation.
Best regards,Agent Smith - Oh, AGENT Smith, that make him official and I am sure legit.
_________________________________
Okay, the sad part of this post... people fall for this crap. And while these offers are entirely outrageous and easily deleted as Spam, which I did do. Some that come into our email are not so easy to detect. Some cons on the internet suck people in every day. That email that looked exactly like an email from my bank that warned of a credit card charge on my account that was fraudulant. I almost trusted, I almost followed their link. A girl at work actually deposited the cashier check for the car she was selling online and sent the guy back his "extra" money (about $500 I think) that he "mistakenly" wrote the check for. When the cashier's check bounced, she was just out the money.
Be aware, make your parents and children and friends aware, of the cons and the frauds. A good, really good con, can catch anyone unaware.
A few links that might help if you are thinking I really should contact Agent Smith.
http://www.fraud.org/internet/inttip/inttip.htm
http://www.scambusters.org/
http://www.sec.gov/investor/pubs/cyberfraud.htm
http://www.fbi.gov/majcases/fraud/internetschemes.htm
In the last hour I have become unbelievably rich just by checking my email...
LUCKY NUMBERS: 8-4-1-9-0-0-5-12
Be informed that you emerged a winner of €1,000,000 (One million Euro) which was conducted this year.ashleythompson06@googlemail.com for more details. - I just need to send them a cashiers check for some random amount to collect my winnings.
Dear Sir/Madam, My name is Mr.West Bernard, and I work in the International operation department in a Local Bank here in South Africa On a routine inspection, I discovered a dormant domiciliary account with a BAL Of 36,000,000 (Thirty Six Million USD) on further discreet investigation I also discovered that the account holder has long since passed away(DEAD)leaving no beneficiary to the account the bank will approve this money to any foreigner because the former operator of the A/c is a foreigner and from Iraq in particular and I am certainly sure that he is DEAD and nobody will come again for the claim of this money it is only a foreigner that can claim this money with propear information. I need your cooperation to clear this money from the bank. - All I need to do is give them my bank account number and password.
This is to officially inform you that we have verified your contract file presently on my desk, and I found out that you have not received your payment due to your lack of co-operation and not fulfilling the obligations giving to you in respect to your payment.
We will send you an ATM CARD which you will use to withdraw your money via ATM MACHINE in any part of the world, and the maximum daily limit is ($1,000) However, Note that this method of payment will be granted if it is acceptable to you for the release of your contract/inheritance entitlement.
In View of this, you are advised to contact the Director(CBN, IRD,and ATM) DR.PAUL ADIM for further information with the following contact details; (dr.pauladim.cbn1@gmail.com)
You are required to provide the following information:
(1) Your Full Name(2) Full residential address(3) Phone And Fax Number(4) Occupation(5) Age
- Well now I better hurry I have already not been co-operative. I can't wait to be co-operative now so that I can get all this money.
We are pleased to inform you that your e-mail address has won the Swiss On-lineLottery. Therefore you have been approved for a lump sum payout ( £1, 500000.00 ) One Million Five Hundred Thousand Pounds Sterling in the Swiss On-lineLottery program held on 12th January 2009, and released today 14th January 2009. - WOW... two lotteries in one day!!!
So perhaps I will offer up all my bank account numbers, my name, address, phone numbers, first born bambino, toe rings, and a lock of my hair just to be sure I get all these wonderfully kind people want to send me.
What could possibly go wrong with that, these seem like very upfront and honest offers?
P.S. And I just got one more...
However, I hereby seek your consent to cooperate with me so that I canprovide you the winning information that won the prize funds of8,497,985 to enable you apply for the claim of the funds. Once the funds ispaid to you, Our mode of sharing will be on a 50......... 50 basis. i.e 50%will be for me while the remaining 50% will be for you.
All I require from you is your honest cooperation and confidentiality inthis regard to enable us see this transaction through. I guarantee thatthis will be executed under a legitimate arrangement that will protectyou from any breach of the law as I have mapped out all plans to ensure weclaim this funds without any trace in the future.
I look forward to your quick response while thanking you for youranticipated co-operation.
Best regards,Agent Smith - Oh, AGENT Smith, that make him official and I am sure legit.
_________________________________
Okay, the sad part of this post... people fall for this crap. And while these offers are entirely outrageous and easily deleted as Spam, which I did do. Some that come into our email are not so easy to detect. Some cons on the internet suck people in every day. That email that looked exactly like an email from my bank that warned of a credit card charge on my account that was fraudulant. I almost trusted, I almost followed their link. A girl at work actually deposited the cashier check for the car she was selling online and sent the guy back his "extra" money (about $500 I think) that he "mistakenly" wrote the check for. When the cashier's check bounced, she was just out the money.
Be aware, make your parents and children and friends aware, of the cons and the frauds. A good, really good con, can catch anyone unaware.
A few links that might help if you are thinking I really should contact Agent Smith.
http://www.fraud.org/internet/inttip/inttip.htm
http://www.scambusters.org/
http://www.sec.gov/investor/pubs/cyberfraud.htm
http://www.fbi.gov/majcases/fraud/internetschemes.htm
Tuesday, January 13, 2009
The Reading
eager words
projectile vomited
onto laps of unimpressed
disdain for spewed
vowels and consonants
shows clearly on faces
unable to clean
the offending mass
of retched verses
I slink away
never to expose
this feeble talent again
"Open Mike 7 P.M. Next Friday"
perhaps just
one more time
________________________
And so I sent out this poor little poem and the rejection it got was delightful.
And now at last I have a place to place it elsewhere. Yeah, I had to create that place, but the sad poem has a place at last.
projectile vomited
onto laps of unimpressed
disdain for spewed
vowels and consonants
shows clearly on faces
unable to clean
the offending mass
of retched verses
I slink away
never to expose
this feeble talent again
"Open Mike 7 P.M. Next Friday"
perhaps just
one more time
________________________
And so I sent out this poor little poem and the rejection it got was delightful.
Dear Ms Laura Jayne,
Thank you for your submission of The Reading to our magazine. At this time we do not find a place in our publication for a work that includes the phrase "projectile vomited." We wish you luck in placing this elsewhere.
Editor
And now at last I have a place to place it elsewhere. Yeah, I had to create that place, but the sad poem has a place at last.
Monday, January 12, 2009
SD 24 - Pitts 35
It was a very strange season. But now it is over.
I do love sports.
But, it does make me sad that we are done for this season.
I am entirely not a fan of our current coach, Norv Turner. I think he is a poor decision maker and really doesn't care that much.
The Chargers played well late in the season. And Phillip Rivers has become a leader who really took charge and made things happen. This Sunday though we were just unable to overcome a superior defense, had some strangely bad breaks and made some costly errors.
So now, it is wait again until next season.
Sunday, January 11, 2009
Saturday, January 10, 2009
Cheery Directives Picked Apart
I am sure this is supposed to be something to make you feel happy and upbeat, full of possibilities, but let us take another look.
Walk in the rain...
and get wet and cold.
Smell the flowers...
and have your hay fever kick up and turn your eyes red and your nose stuffy.
Build sandcastles...
and get gritty, dirty sand in really icky places.
Go on field trips...
and pay too much for admission, and for lunch, eat fried foods, lose your car keys, step on a bee, get a bad churro and be sick on the way home.
Find out how things work...
by sticking a fork in a toaster and twitching for two hours.
Tell stories...
that no one appreciates and they only critique your grammar and laugh when you say you are going to write the great novel of the century.
Say the magic words...
and turn your car into a giant turtle.
Trust the universe...
I would never recommend this, it will surely be a very bad idea. Always beware the Universe.
And just who the heck does Mr. Williamson think he is? Kind of a bossy guy isn't he? Can you imagine going on a date with him? He might call you up and say...
Be pretty,
be happy,
be happy happy,
be joy joy,
be a pleasant, and upbeat, and cheery.
Be ready at 7:30.
Walk in the rain...and get wet and cold.
Smell the flowers...
and have your hay fever kick up and turn your eyes red and your nose stuffy.
Build sandcastles...
and get gritty, dirty sand in really icky places.
Go on field trips...
and pay too much for admission, and for lunch, eat fried foods, lose your car keys, step on a bee, get a bad churro and be sick on the way home.
Find out how things work...
by sticking a fork in a toaster and twitching for two hours.
Tell stories...
that no one appreciates and they only critique your grammar and laugh when you say you are going to write the great novel of the century.
Say the magic words...
and turn your car into a giant turtle.
Trust the universe...
I would never recommend this, it will surely be a very bad idea. Always beware the Universe.
And just who the heck does Mr. Williamson think he is? Kind of a bossy guy isn't he? Can you imagine going on a date with him? He might call you up and say...
Be pretty,
be happy,
be happy happy,
be joy joy,
be a pleasant, and upbeat, and cheery.
Be ready at 7:30.
Friday, January 9, 2009
Hurt
Ok, this one is beautifully sad.
This is a cover by Johnny Cash of Nine Inch Nails' Trent Reznor's song Hurt.
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