Here's the latest email I received:
So irritating.
Speaking of lame phishing scam-bots, here are some of my dozens and dozens of Twitter followers:
Wednesday, February 29, 2012
I love you, internet. I hate you, internet.
Some while ago I posted an ad to Craigslist trying to sell a desk that I still have sitting around. The amount of spam I've received from this ad is astounding. In theory, CL is the best of what the internet could be, the free exchange of cash for goods and services. In practice, it's the realm of scammers and scumbags.
Here's the latest email I received:
So irritating.
Speaking of lame phishing scam-bots, here are some of my dozens and dozens of Twitter followers:
Yay Internet!
Here's the latest email I received:
So irritating.
Speaking of lame phishing scam-bots, here are some of my dozens and dozens of Twitter followers:
Saturday, January 28, 2012
Operation: Strawberry
Growing up as a boy in the 80's, slowly becoming aware of the wider world, I soon learned that threats lurked everywhere. A crazed loner could strike down the president all by himself; a strange, scary, incurable disease was spreading across the world. My grandmother told me it could be caught from toilet seats at the mall.
"Don't sit on the seat," she said to me. How was I supposed to empty my bowels at the Bradlee's then? Maybe that is why, even today, I can't poop anywhere but my own house.
Nuclear annihilation seemed a forgone conclusion. While we never had to engage in any "duck and cover" exercises in school, we still felt the presence of ICBMs. For all I knew, they were on their way already.
Perhaps one of the scariest notions for me was Stranger Danger. The thought of being abducted by someone I didn't know, taken away from my parents and my toys, murdered and buried in the woods somewhere was terrifying. The danger was always presented to me as coming from someone who claimed to be there to help. The subterfuge was this: As I was walking home from school (I'm not sure if kids still do this), someone would pull up in a van (always a van), breathless and slightly panicked. There's been a terrible accident, the stranger would inform me, both of my parents were mangled in a horrific car crash, and with their last dying breaths they asked that this person, a good, trusted friend, whom I had never met, was sent to fetch me. My parents' last wishes were to see my face one last time. This stranger/friend was making sure that wish was fulfilled.
Needless to say, I made it out alive. Statistics prove that the majority of children who go missing, even for a short amount of time, are taken by relatives. Yes, the thought of some weirdo taking your child away, probably molesting them, then chopping them up into little pieces is terrifying and disturbing, but the fear-sowing... was that really necessary? Obviously, cases in which things like this happen lead in the news, following the "if it bleeds, it leads" mentality.
(In the 5 minutes of research I did for this piece, I've realized that my Google search history would probably be enough to convict me of something awful.)
Staying at home alone was a BIG DEAL for me when I was young. Short of a Bar Mitzvah, a spirit quest, or a circumcision, it was a hurdle toward my becoming a man. One Saturday afternoon, after much cajoling, my folks decided to let me stay at home while they took my brother with them to the mall. My instructions were very clear, and laid out to me repeatedly: Don't answer the door. Ever. If anyone calls and asks for either of my parents, I was to say that they were in the shower. Both of them, at the same time. Don't use the stove.
After locking the door, closing the blinds, and securing the perimeter, I walked around the lonely house, invigorated. So this is what it's like to be a man, I thought. I should do this more often.
At this time, things like televisions were essentially pieces of furniture. I still remember our first color TV, a behemoth Zenith, encased in wood and weighing what was probably several hundred pounds. We also had an all-in-one stereo system, also wood, which had a lid like the hood of a car, covering a record player, the tuner, and an eight-track player. It lived in the hallway. In my memory, it was eight feet long. It had cabinets that opened up to house LPs.
After convincing myself that the house was secure, I went to my room and lay down on my bed, my arms outstretched over my head, staring at the ceiling. I thought about what my new-found maturity, and all the rights and responsibilities that went along with it, when, out in the hallway, a calamitous racket. I sprang up and ran from my room to investigate. I lifted the hood of the stereo, and everything in it was turned on. The record player was spinning, the eight track playing, the tuner illuminated and only half-tuned between stations. It was on full blast. LOUD. What the heck? Haunted Stereo! I turned it off, and returned, shaking, to my bedroom. Ghosts in the Stereo. This wasn't fun anymore.
To counteract Stranger Danger, my brother and I were given codewords. Any friend/stranger sent to retrieve us after our parents were incinerated in an airplane crash would be apprised of our secret codes. When asked to come along with this odd person we were to ask "What's the secret code word?" If they didn't know the password, we were to run away!!!
NEVER tell your secret word to anyone, we were told. Recently I posted this query to some friends in an online forum:
Alex: OK! Hey why are you tugging at my belt like that?
Me: Me and strawberry tornado gonna have a good time tonight!
"Don't sit on the seat," she said to me. How was I supposed to empty my bowels at the Bradlee's then? Maybe that is why, even today, I can't poop anywhere but my own house.
Nuclear annihilation seemed a forgone conclusion. While we never had to engage in any "duck and cover" exercises in school, we still felt the presence of ICBMs. For all I knew, they were on their way already.
Perhaps one of the scariest notions for me was Stranger Danger. The thought of being abducted by someone I didn't know, taken away from my parents and my toys, murdered and buried in the woods somewhere was terrifying. The danger was always presented to me as coming from someone who claimed to be there to help. The subterfuge was this: As I was walking home from school (I'm not sure if kids still do this), someone would pull up in a van (always a van), breathless and slightly panicked. There's been a terrible accident, the stranger would inform me, both of my parents were mangled in a horrific car crash, and with their last dying breaths they asked that this person, a good, trusted friend, whom I had never met, was sent to fetch me. My parents' last wishes were to see my face one last time. This stranger/friend was making sure that wish was fulfilled.
Needless to say, I made it out alive. Statistics prove that the majority of children who go missing, even for a short amount of time, are taken by relatives. Yes, the thought of some weirdo taking your child away, probably molesting them, then chopping them up into little pieces is terrifying and disturbing, but the fear-sowing... was that really necessary? Obviously, cases in which things like this happen lead in the news, following the "if it bleeds, it leads" mentality.
(In the 5 minutes of research I did for this piece, I've realized that my Google search history would probably be enough to convict me of something awful.)
Staying at home alone was a BIG DEAL for me when I was young. Short of a Bar Mitzvah, a spirit quest, or a circumcision, it was a hurdle toward my becoming a man. One Saturday afternoon, after much cajoling, my folks decided to let me stay at home while they took my brother with them to the mall. My instructions were very clear, and laid out to me repeatedly: Don't answer the door. Ever. If anyone calls and asks for either of my parents, I was to say that they were in the shower. Both of them, at the same time. Don't use the stove.
After locking the door, closing the blinds, and securing the perimeter, I walked around the lonely house, invigorated. So this is what it's like to be a man, I thought. I should do this more often.
At this time, things like televisions were essentially pieces of furniture. I still remember our first color TV, a behemoth Zenith, encased in wood and weighing what was probably several hundred pounds. We also had an all-in-one stereo system, also wood, which had a lid like the hood of a car, covering a record player, the tuner, and an eight-track player. It lived in the hallway. In my memory, it was eight feet long. It had cabinets that opened up to house LPs.
After convincing myself that the house was secure, I went to my room and lay down on my bed, my arms outstretched over my head, staring at the ceiling. I thought about what my new-found maturity, and all the rights and responsibilities that went along with it, when, out in the hallway, a calamitous racket. I sprang up and ran from my room to investigate. I lifted the hood of the stereo, and everything in it was turned on. The record player was spinning, the eight track playing, the tuner illuminated and only half-tuned between stations. It was on full blast. LOUD. What the heck? Haunted Stereo! I turned it off, and returned, shaking, to my bedroom. Ghosts in the Stereo. This wasn't fun anymore.
To counteract Stranger Danger, my brother and I were given codewords. Any friend/stranger sent to retrieve us after our parents were incinerated in an airplane crash would be apprised of our secret codes. When asked to come along with this odd person we were to ask "What's the secret code word?" If they didn't know the password, we were to run away!!!
NEVER tell your secret word to anyone, we were told. Recently I posted this query to some friends in an online forum:
Me: Growing up, did any of you get the "stranger danger" talk? My brother and I had code-words given to us. We were told to never go with any strangers unless they knew the secret word. Mine was "strawberry".
Alethea: You are NEVER supposed to share that password!!!!!!
I will not tell you mine.
Alex: We had that. I think the secret word was tornado. To this day I'll get into a car with anyone who says tornado.
Alethea: tornado.
Alex: OK! Hey why are you tugging at my belt like that?
Lisa: we had a password too, and my first thought when you posted it here was, I can't BELIEVE you shared your password! i'll never tell what ours was.
Alethea: they are idiots.
Me: Me and strawberry tornado gonna have a good time tonight!
Alex: You just won't admit that you didn't have a password. And you didn't have a password because your parents were content to see you get kidnapped.
I love those guys.
Once I had some shop tools I wanted to get rid of, so I posted them for free on Craigslist. A girl showed up to take my glass saw. I met her at the door and invited her up to the apartment, which she did automatically. As soon as we were alone in my apartment, my Stranger Danger alarm went off and I thought "What the hell is wrong with you?" I could have chopped her into pieces with the very glass saw she was there to take, had I been so inclined. (Oh delightful irony) Obviously she never had a secret word. Or perhaps her common sense had taken leave of her. I just remember feeling incredibly uncomfortable. From then on, any Craigslist transactions took place on the front stoop, in full view of the neighbors.
Once I had some shop tools I wanted to get rid of, so I posted them for free on Craigslist. A girl showed up to take my glass saw. I met her at the door and invited her up to the apartment, which she did automatically. As soon as we were alone in my apartment, my Stranger Danger alarm went off and I thought "What the hell is wrong with you?" I could have chopped her into pieces with the very glass saw she was there to take, had I been so inclined. (Oh delightful irony) Obviously she never had a secret word. Or perhaps her common sense had taken leave of her. I just remember feeling incredibly uncomfortable. From then on, any Craigslist transactions took place on the front stoop, in full view of the neighbors.
A few years ago I was at a bar with some friends and I met a guy named George who told stories about when he was kidnapped. His father and mother had had a nasty split once George was born, and his dad had absconded with him into the wilderness; his earliest memories were of his dad siphoning gas from cars in Mexico as they made their way. I remember being jealous of this origin story. I wish I had a story even nearly as interesting to tell about my beginning days. George seemed as if he'd made it out OK. I wonder if he had a secret word?
Wednesday, January 11, 2012
Original Hipster
This is me in second grade. I was irritating and pretentious way before it became mainstream.
Sunday, January 8, 2012
Also, I Am Eating A Sandwich
A place for what I consider to be some of my gems from Twitter and Facebook status updates. In no particular order:
I ♥ nihilism!
I bought a pan in Reno, just to watch him fry.
When pigs fly, swine flu.
1337 haiku: a/s/l? omg! gtfo! lmao
Mark Sandman is dead yet all 4 founding members of Motley Crue continue to draw breath on this earth.
Ceiling Cat has called in sick today, so, like, go crazy and stuff.
Take the "How Sexy Are You?" Quiz! My score: 147% Sexy.
I'm the most spectacular failure since the introduction of the McEwok...
I dont think I will ever grow tired of hearing very young children swearing.
Hair cuts come and go. A waffle iron is forever.
Cold Hard Facts: Not Good. Throbbing Hard Facts: Even Worse.
Machoccino: the drink for men.
"I swear on my baby-mama's grave, those are not my drugs." #heardonCops
Did they test viagra on lab animals? The thought of a rat with a boner makes me sad.
Masturbating in a snuggie is some varsity-level shit. #snuggie
Are those space pants? Because I'm a premature ejaculator #candyheartrejects
March is National Women's History Month, and I'd like to let all the lovely women in my life know that I appreciate you broads.
EPIC HOMO #knuckletats
"That's not hot glue..." #sexyartsandcrafts
It seems wasteful to buy a burrito just to stick my dick in it. #lonely
Mom's got more friends than me on FB. #notigerbloodhereIguess
Did I Invent the word "cliteratti"? God I hope so.
This is not the cheerleader pile I paid for #trappedunderalog
You kiss your mom with that vagina?
Tonight me and my Asian-American gang The Guidos are playing our weekly game of Find The Bottle Of Pee.
Today is National Put Your Balls On Things Day #putyourballsonthingsday
Life's been pretty great since I gave up hope.
Can anybody tell me, what's the past-tense of badonk-a-donk?
"Boy, is my face red." - Johnny The Beet-faced Boy
I'm doing really great in my Spanish class! I made the Honor Raoul!
These avacado boots are made for guacin'.
This lululemon bag really comes off as smug and bossy. You're not in charge, bag.
Being a guy is great. At this point, "dressing up" means not having barbeque sauce on my shirt.
I didn't get many trick-or-treaters last night, so I'm going to go for a drive in the van and give out the rest of my candy that way.
When you're a juggalo, every day is Halloween. And your candy is meth.
I don't know about you, but I can't wait to see the Das Boot reboot.
Please refer to me by my outdoorsy rapper name: LL Bean J.
If this whole "working" thing doesn't pan out, I can always fall back on my first career writing lesbian erotica.
I'm going to start a dating website for dummies called OKStupid.
Anybody feel like wanging-chung tonight?
Salad dressing shall henceforth be referred to as Veggie Lube.
The best thing that happened to me today was hearing Werner Herzog say the word."woozy".
Little known historical fact: Benjamin Franklin accidentally invented the pot-belly stove while trying to make the world's first sex doll.
Cats don't like wasabi. I learned something today.
A diamond is forever. And so is herpes.
Careful out there, peeps. This snow is heavy and wet. Just like yo mamma.
April is Child Abuse Prevention month. I'd like to let you all know that I was a battered child. I was never deep-fried, but the threat was always there.
I put the stink in distinction.
I wonder why nobody has responded to my Puppy Awards Party Evite?
Times are tough. So to make some extra money I've decided I'm going to pawn my air guitar. It seemed like a good idea at the time, but I didn't realize how much practice goes into it.
I ♥ nihilism!
I bought a pan in Reno, just to watch him fry.
When pigs fly, swine flu.
1337 haiku: a/s/l? omg! gtfo! lmao
Mark Sandman is dead yet all 4 founding members of Motley Crue continue to draw breath on this earth.
Ceiling Cat has called in sick today, so, like, go crazy and stuff.
Take the "How Sexy Are You?" Quiz! My score: 147% Sexy.
I'm the most spectacular failure since the introduction of the McEwok...
I dont think I will ever grow tired of hearing very young children swearing.
Hair cuts come and go. A waffle iron is forever.
Cold Hard Facts: Not Good. Throbbing Hard Facts: Even Worse.
Machoccino: the drink for men.
"I swear on my baby-mama's grave, those are not my drugs." #heardonCops
Did they test viagra on lab animals? The thought of a rat with a boner makes me sad.
Masturbating in a snuggie is some varsity-level shit. #snuggie
Are those space pants? Because I'm a premature ejaculator #candyheartrejects
March is National Women's History Month, and I'd like to let all the lovely women in my life know that I appreciate you broads.
EPIC HOMO #knuckletats
"That's not hot glue..." #sexyartsandcrafts
It seems wasteful to buy a burrito just to stick my dick in it. #lonely
Mom's got more friends than me on FB. #notigerbloodhereIguess
Did I Invent the word "cliteratti"? God I hope so.
This is not the cheerleader pile I paid for #trappedunderalog
You kiss your mom with that vagina?
Tonight me and my Asian-American gang The Guidos are playing our weekly game of Find The Bottle Of Pee.
Today is National Put Your Balls On Things Day #putyourballsonthingsday
Life's been pretty great since I gave up hope.
Can anybody tell me, what's the past-tense of badonk-a-donk?
"Boy, is my face red." - Johnny The Beet-faced Boy
I'm doing really great in my Spanish class! I made the Honor Raoul!
These avacado boots are made for guacin'.
This lululemon bag really comes off as smug and bossy. You're not in charge, bag.
Being a guy is great. At this point, "dressing up" means not having barbeque sauce on my shirt.
I didn't get many trick-or-treaters last night, so I'm going to go for a drive in the van and give out the rest of my candy that way.
When you're a juggalo, every day is Halloween. And your candy is meth.
I don't know about you, but I can't wait to see the Das Boot reboot.
Please refer to me by my outdoorsy rapper name: LL Bean J.
If this whole "working" thing doesn't pan out, I can always fall back on my first career writing lesbian erotica.
I'm going to start a dating website for dummies called OKStupid.
Anybody feel like wanging-chung tonight?
Salad dressing shall henceforth be referred to as Veggie Lube.
The best thing that happened to me today was hearing Werner Herzog say the word."woozy".
Little known historical fact: Benjamin Franklin accidentally invented the pot-belly stove while trying to make the world's first sex doll.
Cats don't like wasabi. I learned something today.
A diamond is forever. And so is herpes.
Careful out there, peeps. This snow is heavy and wet. Just like yo mamma.
April is Child Abuse Prevention month. I'd like to let you all know that I was a battered child. I was never deep-fried, but the threat was always there.
I put the stink in distinction.
I wonder why nobody has responded to my Puppy Awards Party Evite?
Times are tough. So to make some extra money I've decided I'm going to pawn my air guitar. It seemed like a good idea at the time, but I didn't realize how much practice goes into it.
Saturday, December 10, 2011
Proof
I'm still writing. I can't get around to editing anything, so nothing gets posted. Reading a lot these days and thinking about how it's made. A painter has to look at paintings, a writer has to read. (And learn to type)
Tuesday, February 22, 2011
Robot Haiku
I was talking with Cat, my roommate, one evening about our individual creative writing endeavors, and we both expressed a desire to be more active in our pursuits. And for some reason, we decided that on tomorrow's lunch break, we would text some sort of modern day equivalent of exquisite corpse to each other in an effort to perhaps jump start something creative.
Somehow we agreed later to write haiku about robots. What follows is a record of what transpired.
Me: Robot haikuathon in 321
Fri 12:27
Me: Ev'ry day, welding
Car frames. Endless drudgery.
Must kill all humans.
Fri 12:31
Me: Motherboard, my heart.
Electrons stand in for blood.
I just want to dance.
Fri 12:33
Me: Rover stuck on Mars.
My cousin on Jeopardy!
So very lonely.
Fri. 12:35
Cat: Automated
Phone sex hotline voices.
R2D2 blows.
Fri 12:36
Me: So many zeros
And ones. I lose count sometimes.
Teach me how to love.
Fri 12:38
Cat: Scrap metal insides
My soul is a junkyard dog
Chasing after Ray
Fri 12:42
Me: Add, subtract, divide,
Multiply. An abacus
Was my ancestor.
Fri 12:46
Cat: Your poems flow like
A river of electric waves.
Robotic bard, you win.
Fri 12:51
Monday, January 24, 2011
Around The Interwebz
On July 1, 2008, I attended a ballgame at Fenway Park. I watched Kevin Youkilis hit his first professional grand slam vs. the Baltimore Orioles. I caught it on film and posted it to Youtube.
Today I got my 8th comment on it, and I thought I'd share.
YOUK!!!!!!!!!!! UR THE FUCKING MAN!!!!!!!!!! FUCK THE YANKEES THEY SUCK DICK BIG TIME IT'S ALL BOUT THE RED SOX U HEARD ME???????? YOUKILIS IS MY #1 HERO/FAN I FUCKING -3 U YOUKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKK
MrHk1093 38 minutes ago
YOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOU (CANT FIGHT)
kayd1zzz 1 year ago
ahuevos putos
kebin yukilis el mjjOr awwiiwii
omarrin09 1 year ago
[This comment has received too many negative votes]
THE YAN KEES RULEEEEEE
copyright12222111155 1 year ago
YOOOOOOOOK YOOOOOOK YOOOOOOOK
protoma 2 years ago
This tickles me to no end.
Today I got my 8th comment on it, and I thought I'd share.
YOUK!!!!!!!!!!! UR THE FUCKING MAN!!!!!!!!!! FUCK THE YANKEES THEY SUCK DICK BIG TIME IT'S ALL BOUT THE RED SOX U HEARD ME???????? YOUKILIS IS MY #1 HERO/FAN I FUCKING -3 U YOUKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKK
MrHk1093 38 minutes ago
YOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOU (CANT FIGHT)
kayd1zzz 1 year ago
ahuevos putos
kebin yukilis el mjjOr awwiiwii
omarrin09 1 year ago
[This comment has received too many negative votes]
THE YAN KEES RULEEEEEE
copyright12222111155 1 year ago
YOOOOOOOOK YOOOOOOK YOOOOOOOK
protoma 2 years ago
This tickles me to no end.
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