Monday, January 24, 2011

Am I am what I'm spammed?

I have a lot of email accounts. It's hard to be a writer under two names and an editor under two others, plus myself. (My real self, the self I'm being when I'm not one of those other people.) Sadly, my real name email box has become my catchall addy. So when they ask my email address at the store so they "can send you coupons!" (or crap) or I'm at a site and they ask for your my address (that they won't sell because they "value your privacy"), I give them that one.

So I look at my "real name" account this morning and I realized my spam has assigned me some characteristics. Whether or not they're true...well....

First: I'm a happy retiree! I've got an invitation to join AARP. At 45...should I?

If I'm a trapped-at-home-mom and I retire, does that mean I don't have to do laundry anymore? Then SIGN ME UP!

Second: Apparently, I've had hip replacement surgery and missed it. Which is too bad, because I relish any opportunity to lie around, watch television, have my meals served to me (even if it's usually broth and jello--mm-m good!) and take painkillers. You know, we trapped-at-home moms don't usually get the chance to do any of these things (especially the painkiller part). But I DO know a certain segment of the population who does (if beer could be substituted for the drugs). Cough. You know who you are...

Third: I'm a cougar and I'm on the prowl! It's true that my husband is younger than I am. So...maybe I am a cougar, but...I've already got kids, thanks. I don't need anyone else's. I don't care if he's hot, sexy, interested AND legal. The only thing I'd use him for is to take out the trash.

Fourth: I'm about to die. Probably from all the drugs and cougar sex. Because if I act now (as opposed to later, when I'm dead) I can get life insurance. Hey, the only extra life insurance I need right now is the kind that tells me I'm going to live. Oh, wait...that's assurance.

Whatever. I just hope I'm not what my spam thinks I am.


  1. Then according to my spam, I'm apparently a man. I got a LOT of viagra or "how to make your penis a foot long to pleasure her all night long" emails... :)

    I feel your pain.

  2. Apparently I'm an impotent, appallingly-endowed owner of at least 50 bank accounts (all of whom need more details, like account numbers), who is in dire need of a Russian Bride. :-P