Tales from the Inbox

It's been exciting times in my Spam Folder, and I've been saving up a few gems to share with all of you, because sharing is caring, and Spam? It should be shared, and shared often.

Lazy Hazy Dazy Spam
In my continued receipt of emails begging and pleading for me to become an officer of the law

(Did you want to tell her that you were a cop?)
(Do you want to join the police force?)
(Cops get all the chicks)
(Become a detective today)

I was amused to discover the even the spammers were getting tired of typing. My first several emails were from "Be A Cop" which then got shortened to "BeACop" when then got shortened yet again to "B-A-Cop" which, if you think about it, isn't shorter at all because it requires more keystrokes. Still in all, I am praying my dogged refusal to join is slowly wearing them down.


The More Numbers ... The More Important
Last Thursday I got an IMPORTANT email. First, I know it was IMPORTANT because it had an attachment. And all attachments are IMPORTANT (in a very virusy kind of way. Kids -- just say NO!). Second of all, I know it was IMPORTANT because it had a very very very very very long number in the subject line:

Urgent Notification #70231887046526220

Wowee. That MUST be urgent. But, I had to wonder, how on earth did I miss the other 70 quadrillion, 231 trillion, 887 billion, 46 million, 526 thousand, 220 OTHER urgent notifications? Am I that far behind in my email?

(Small admission: I had to ask my boyfriend what came after "trillion")

But then, yesterday, I received this EVEN MORE IMPORTANT email:

Urgent Notification #0958043731282545505

958 quadrillion? Dang. I need a personal secretary.


Sold! To the Highest Bidder
You have to be pretty agressive to be a successful spammer. Witness poor Mario Holland, who wrote with great excitement to tell me "Nominated for MBA." Sweet! I didn't know there was a competition. I always thought you had to, you know...go to school. Just about when I was thinking of taking him up on his offer, he was one-upped by a Malcom Conrad, who told me, "You are nominated for a Ph.D." Awesome! Sorry Mario. Maybe you could nominate me for Queen?

Sticky Key Syndrome
From the Pppporky Ppppig school of typing, or, Keep the Coke away from the keyboard, nimrod:
ppain killers weiight loss no doccctor
jobs are for those of us with a dddiploma (waves to Malcom!)
Mortagge ratee approvedd

A Noun is a Person, Place or Thing
Lately, I've been getting emails not only from everyONE, but everyTHING.
From: Wealth
From: Ring-Tones
From: Hair
From: More Hair
From: Hair Loss
From: Hair Help
From: I'm Rich

The winner this week?
From: CashCow Vending Machine

Daddy, I want a CashCow Vending Machine, and I want it NOW!


To Answer Your Question....
Tired of that piece of crap you're driving?
(Shhh! Ooo-day oht-nay alk-tay about the iece-pay of ap-cray, errr... ar-cay that ay-way)

Have you seen the new Ipod Nano?
Why no, I have not.

Are you in with the times?
Why no, I am not.

Are you seing a lot of hair in the shower?
Nope. Fabio lives in the basement. (ba-DUMP-bump)

RE: I tried calling you...
Sorry. Not.

hair loss pissing you off?
Um, no.

Need some love pills?
Nope.

Want a DVD Camcorder?
Yep.

balding got you down?
Nope.

Things I Just DON'T Want to Know
Buyer Beware! Penis Patches!

Wishful Thinking of the Floral Variety
Jumpstart the weekend with our new HAPPY HOUR Bouquets

Thank you spammers. You make my inbox interesting, if nothing else.