So you want to send me an email

Let's go over the ground rules, shall we?

Email is fabulous. I could not live without it. But I've been finding some little jewels in my inbox that I'd just as soon not live with.

Got an opinion about the immigration conflagration that's going on? Have some strong feelings about patriotism, the American flag, the current political atmosphere and the war in Iraq? Sure you do. We all do.

But here's the deal: I am an unabashed, unashamed, unapologetic liberal, for the most part. I tend to favor the death penalty and I don't think there are enough law enforcement personnel available in my city and state. That kind of knocks my claim of being a bleeding heart liberal into the pooper, doesn't it? But here are a few little advisories to consider before adding me to the list of recipients in your next email forward.

1. Is it true? This doesn't apply to jokes and sarcasm, of course. But if it's allegedly a letter someone has written, or one of Andy Rooney's pieces, or the latest computer virus or safety warning, do me a favor. Check it out. Snopes is a good resource. Google it.

2. Is it expressing a narrow-minded viewpoint? Keep it to yourself unless you are 100% positive that it's a narrow-minded view that I hold myself. Since I try to keep an open mind, it's probably safe to assume that I won't find it humorous or interesting.

3. Does it require the outlook of organized Christianity? Then it probably falls under category #2 already.

4. Did you send it to me last week? last month? last year? Is it one that's already gone around multiple times? Then why send it again?

5. Is it strictly "cute" with lots of animated GIFs, drawings of cute bunnies and such? Hmmm, I think I got that one last week. Thanks anyway.

6. And for the love of (insert your favorite deity here), if you find yourself forwarding more than one or two emails per day, carefully examine your motivation. Have you read them? Are they funny? Do they pass rules one and four, since those views are shared by almost everyone? Doubtful.

Now you know.

Rainy Memorial Day? What a surprise.

So here we are. Almost Memorial Day weekend, for what it's worth. Last week? Hotter'n hell, well, for this time of year anyway. Now?

Rain.

We needed rain, yes. But now my damned garden plot is mud again. Thank god I got it mostly worked up while it was medium-damp, so it won't be as hard to work with if it EVER stops raining again.

I hate people who complain about the rain, don't you?

What, you couldn't write once in a while?

A certain friend of mine who shall remain nameless keeps hounding me about the delinquent status of this blog. And he's right. What's the date of the last post, January something? Despicable.

Truth is, I've gotten sucked into a message board. One of those Yahoo groups. Hush up -- I know, sounds fairly lame. But these women are my soul -sisters, my homies, my peeps. Not that you aren't, oh no no no. It's just -- oh, you wouldn't understand.

There's only so much time one can spend on the computer, writing brilliant quips and such, at work and at home. Oh, just on my breaks at work, don't get me wrong.

Here's another reason: All I can come up with for writing material is bitching, whining, kvetching, and complaining. Do any of you really, honestly wish to read more of that? I didn't think so.

So here you go. Perhaps this will free my inner author and I can bore the hell out of you repeatedly in the future. Cheers!

Helpful Hints for Spammers

It has come to my attention that there is some confusion in the minds of spammers regarding topics that would interest me enough to actually open their emails before deleting them.

So here's an important clue: when you see the name "nancy" in an email address, think female. As in not interested in Viagra or Cialis or what have you. You may be thinking of "nancy boy," but in that case giving HER something to smile about would not be of interest, either.

I am not interested in adding to my girth, thank you very much. I have more than enough. Length, sure, if you mean height, but I don't think you do.

To answer the other descriptive subject lines phrased in the form of questions, let's just say that no, I have not and never will.

A new calendar year, big deal

Every year, the same story. Magazines full of articles on changing your life, organizing, losing weight, all those New Year's Resolutions everyone supposedly makes. A new calendar, a new year, a new you. While I have no problem with anyone trying to improve their lives and thereby their happiness, I do have a problem with the assumption that putting a new bound-stack-of-paper-with-pictures-and-dates-on-it up on the wall changes everything. Doesn't it seem more logical to fix problems as you recognize them, and when you've just HAD IT and things just have to change?

Besides, to me the new year starts in the fall, back-to-school time. What's new about this time of year besides having to buy a new calendar? Same old long winter nights, rainy grey days. Spring would make more sense when it comes to new beginnings, and would make it a lot easier to stick to those exercise-related goals.

Happy New Calendar Purchasing Season.

What do you think they're for?

Headlights

Yes, they are mainly for seeing what you're about to run over in the dark. But did you also know that they assist other drivers in seeing YOUR sorry ass? Say it's foggy, which it is. Say you're driving a silver or white car. Or some piece of shit covered in primer. How visible do you think you are on a foggy day? You're not. No matter what color your vehicle is, not only are you not very visible in the fog, but you're made even less visible by the contrast between your stupid self and the other people on the road who have pulled their heads out of their asses for one brief second and turned on their lights. I don't care if your car doesn't have some sort of buzzer to warn you that you've left your lights on -- which would you rather have, a dead battery? Or an accident that could result in dead people, possibly yourself included? 'Nuff said.

Turn signals

Did you know that the lever that sticks out of your steering column on the left side turns on (and off) flashing lights located at all four corners of your car? Did you know that the driver behind you might appreciate your using them before slamming on your brakes and tuning? The oncoming traffic just might find it interesting to know in which direction you plan to aim that deadly weapon on wheels, too. And when your done with them? For the love of all that is holy, turn them off! Do you never look at your dashboard? Sheesh.

Sidewalks

They are for walking. Not skateboarding, not bicycling if you're under ten. They are also NOT a doggy restroom.

God, I'm getting bitchy in my old age....

I Got Nothin'...

But after being sniped at repeatedly to post something new I've got to regurgitate something here...

Let's see. This is the last day of my four-day weekend. I was planning to head up to Seattle to the Jeopardy! tryouts, which I was registered for on Saturday morning. But between the cost of gas, lodging, and the fact that my knees are now BOTH killing me on a consistent basis, I decided to stay home. It's OK, I've passed their test before, so I know I can do it. They'll be back in the Northwest someday, and by then I will surely be financially stable and physically fit.

Have I spent my time off productively and wisely? Snort. Not even. But it's damn fine to roll over on a rainy Monday morning and go back to sleep.

Especially when the real world can suck so bad.

I got an email from a friend yesterday. His pregnant wife stopped feeling the baby move Saturday afternoon. She was due in November, I think. They went to the doctor for reassurance, but didn't get it. The umbilical cord had gotten twisted, then a clot formed, cutting him off from his mom's life force. After a time she gave birth. Gary tells me the baby was beautiful. God almighty, a miscarriage is painful enough, but this was an almost fully-formed baby boy, whose parents were just ecstatic waiting for him. What the hell is the purpose of this?

More joy and festivity -- this morning I see a city bus backing up in front of my house. What the hell? Oh, his passage is blocked by a fire truck in front of the neighbor's house. Turns out it's the white-trash-used-truck-lot-in-the-yard people to the south. The mother's had an aneurysm, "another one" according to one of the kids. While these are far from my favorite neighbors, this sucks pretty bad. Aneurysms are always trouble, but she was still conscious, a good sign.

However, I'm amazed that she hasn't blown a gasket already, during one of her sessions of screaming obscenities at her teenage sons. While I sympathize with the maternal need to express displeasure at the offspring, Jesus H. on Horseback do we ALL need to hear it for miles around? And is it really necessary to use the work "fuck" at that volume, repeatedly, to your own child? I don't think so.

Happy Monday.