Today’s Extremely Rude Messenger Conversation

He sent me a request to add me to his Messenger list before he even sent he the first “hello.” That turned me off immediately.

I wasn’t very nice to him. Probably he would have been harmless, but I just wasn’t in the mood. I was polite as long as I could stand to be.

My thoughts and commentary are in italics, as usual.

 

HIM: Hi there
HIM: 36 swm in Kansas here
ME: 44, div
(I’m not in the mood. Go away.)
HIM: how are ya hun? (Don’t ever call me “hun” if you don’t know me well.)
ME: jaded (Tired of idiots like you who assume I want you to call me “hun”)
HIM: lol whats that mean? (If you don’t know, why are you laughing? Maybe you should cry instead.)
ME: cynical (Some days I feel like a dictionary)
HIM: lol ok what ya up to? (You’re quite the giggler, aren’t you, sport?)
ME: working. You? (Damn. I should have said I was chatting with some fool on Messenger. Oh, well. Too late for witty repartee.)
HIM: same lol what do u do hun? (I think he just lied to me. I think he’s really cruising the Yahoo Member Directory for hot babes. Well, he’s a-fixin to get burned.)
ME: Me? I’m a lawyer. So it’s “Hon.” and not “hun.” (“Hon.” as in the abbreviation for “Honorable,” which is how my mail comes addressed, not “hun” as in the pandering diminutive you clearly intend. )
HIM: sorry hon i manage a small sporting good store (Hah! He thought I was correcting his spelling!)
HIM: what kind of lawyer? (Like you’d understand if I told you. Right. All you need to know is that I’m a good one.)
ME: A good one
HIM: lol and a pretty one (You think it’s funny that I’m good? Go against me in court someday. I double-dog dare you. You won’t ‘lol’ for long.)
ME: thank you (I’m trying to be polite. Really I am.)
HIM: love ur pix! why are u single? (Because I’m divorced. It sort of comes with the territory.)
ME: I didn’t like being married (Surely he didn’t want me to tell him the story of my marriage and its aftermath. Surely.)
HIM: i see. do u date a lot? (Why? Are you wanting to know if you have competition? You do. It’s from my collection of batteries. Not really. Heh heh. Blushing to myself. Yikes!)
ME: some
HIM: bet the men love u huh? (No. They hate me. That’s why they ask me out.)
ME: They are mostly scared of me (I’m told that I can be pretty intimidating to be in such a small package. But dynamite’s like that.)
HIM: why is that? lol
ME: I’m smarter than they are (and if they say too many stupid things I start making fun of them and they don’t even realize it)
HIM: lol so no serious stuff in a while? (How can I be serious with a man who giggles constantly?)
ME: when we start talking serious stuff they can’t keep up with me. It’s a sad situation. (You have no idea how much at a disadvantage you are in this conversation, buddy.)
ME: For instance, politics… (Dude, this is a hint as to where the conversation probably ought to go, because I don’t like the tack you’re taking.)
HIM: cant keep up with u??? in bed or what? lol (What a freaking loser! I bet he says that to all the women he accosts!)
ME: um…that’s kind of a personal question, don’t you think? (This is not a hint. I’m telling you it’s a personal question and you need to change your approach if you want me to continue talking to you.)
HIM: yeah sorry just teasing u (What makes you think this disembodied person on the other end of your chat conversation whom you’ve never met wants to be teased about her bedroom activities? Jerk.)
HIM: i like to tease and flirty (How nice. For those who don’t already know, “how nice” is a southern euphemism for “fuck you.”)
HIM: that ok?
ME: flirting’s fun (It is. What you’re doing isn’t flirting, though. It’s just offensive. And furthermore I’m in the process of writing a responsive comment to one of the political blogs posed by my good friend the High Priest of Meatloaf, who, by the way, is really a funny and thoughtful guy and who can carry on interesting conversations in circles around you even in his zombified form.)
HIM: u wanna flirt with me? lol (When will this guy stop this incessant giggling???)
ME: Well, I don’t know (Read: Hell, no.)
ME: I like flirting with smart people who are masters of the double entendre. (I bet he asks me what a double entendre is.)
HIM: what is the “double entendre”? (Bingo)
ME: do you know what a pun is? (It took me a minute to figure out how to answer in words of two syllables or less)
HIM: yes (Well, that’s a start)
ME: It’s sort of like that. One word or phrase that has two meanings. (I bet that went right over his pointy little giggly head.)
HIM: k how tall are u? (Ummm… and this is relevant to this internet chat how?)
ME: Not very (Why? Are you measuring me for my coffin?)
HIM: do u have sexy legs too? (Oh, for Pete’s sake! He can’t be serious.)
ME: I doubt I’m the best judge of that (Actually, I’m a member of the Rockettes. I was hired solely because of my incredible legs. I recently quit the job, though, because all the other girls were just too tall. I got tired of them tripping over mini-me.)
HIM: i am a leg and foot man (Is that why you foot is in your mouth? What the hell do I say in response to that? Oh – wait. I’ll say nothing.)
HIM: busy? (Yeah. Busy pontificating on politics. Check my blog sometime.)
ME: well, I am at work (Not that’s I’m working any more than you are, though.)
HIM: what ya wearing today? (A frown while I’m talking to you.)
ME: sweats and a t-shirt (not that it’s any of your business)
ME: sexy, huh (Hint: I’m not flirting with you. Go away.)
HIM: can be lol (Give me a break)
ME: really (Should I have told him about the stains and rips?)
HIM: anything underneath? (Underneath this ice princess facade is a hot chick you will never get to play with, pal.)
ME: me (I know what he means. I just chose not to answer.)
HIM: no undies? (Wouldn’t his mama be proud of him for coming on to me like this?)
ME: Now how is that any of your concern?
(Looking over the tops of my granny glasses at the screen in my best imitation of a stern librarian)
HIM: lol a man just likes to know (One of those burning questions, eh? They make creams, ointments and antibiotics for that, you know.)
ME: let me ask you something (Heh heh. I’m gonna get him)
HIM: ask away (You wouldn’t say that if you knew what was coming)
ME: when was the last time you saw an attractive woman, for example at the mall or in the grocery store, and struck up a conversation with her, then asked her if she was wearing any underwear? And if you actually were crass enough to do that, how hard did she slap you? (Uh-oh. I shouldn’t have used a big word like “crass.”)
HIM: saw my neighbor asked and she came home with me (Horny jackass)
ME: it’s women like that who make men think the rest of us like to be accosted and asked impertinent questions. Look, I like flirting. Flirting is fun. I’m not into gratuitous gratification of anyone’s sexual fantasies online. Whether or not I’m wearing underwear is not anything you should ever assume you can ask me or any other woman you don’t know. In case your mother didn’t teach you, let me inform you that it’s rude, boorish, and extremely unpleasant.
HIM: i apologize (You’d better.)
ME: thank you (Note that I didn’t accept the apology, merely thanked him for it.)
HIM: what case u workin on?
ME: I’m working on an assault case (You verbally assaulted me on this internet chat thingy.)
ME: And no offense, but I think I’m through talking with you. I prefer men who show some adeptness at actual conversation, not those who just leer at me like I’m a piece of meat. (and I want you to go away.)
HIM: bitch (yep. Especially to ass-clowns like you. It’s not just a job; it’s my calling.)

True Story

I wonder if things like this happen to people who don’t have dirty minds. If they do, is it possible that those people can overlook the obvious and be completely oblivious to what is so hysterically funny in a sick, twisted sort of way?

I went to my sister’s for Christmas dinner Monday. When Jack and I got there, she put a pork tenderloin in the oven and we gathered around the tree to open gifts. Sis’s two boys, ages 15 and 13, were there, as was my mother. We spent a lovely hour ooohing and ahhhhing over what everyone got and gave. It was a very nice time.

We were almost through opening gifts when Sis got up to go check the tenderloin. She was gone for a few minutes. The rest of us waited to open any more gifts until she returned. We were chatting and laughing in typical Aramink family fashion.

Sis tip-toed into the living room and tapped me on the shoulder. “Come here,” she whispered.

I got to my feet and followed her into the kitchen.

“Have you ever cooked a pork tenderloin?” she asked.

“Yes,” I told her. “Lots of times.”

“Good. I have something I need to ask you then,” she explained and opened the oven door. She reached in and pulled out the roasting pan holding the meat.

“Is it supposed to look like this?” she asked.

I gaped. I blinked.

Sis put the pan down on the counter and grinned at me real big. “Shhhh,” she said.

We walked back into the living room, and Sis beckoned to Mom. I couldn’t help it. I was about to die laughing. When Gran headed into the kitchen, I did my best to keep three large teenage boys at bay, thinking they were too young and … ahem… tender… to witness what their mother had prepared for Christmas dinner.

I was unsuccessful. The boys barreled into the kitchen just as their grandmother was in the act of looking perplexed at the slab of meat that faced her. Gran glanced up with a quizzical look. For a second I thought she didn’t get it.

Then she burst out laughing.

The boys crowded around. “What is it? What’s so funny?” they demanded. Their mothers and grandmother were laughing too hard to tell them.

Sis headed down the hall to the bathroom before she wet her pants. When she came back, she suggested that a creamy Bearnaise sauce would be a lovely accompaniment.


That set us off again. Sis headed back to the bathroom.

We females of the family enjoyed every bite. “Mmmmmm.” “Yummy.” “This is delightful,” we said.

The boys, for some reason, opted for a meatless Christmas dinner.

And now, for the crucial question:
If a pork tenderloin is circumcised, does that make it kosher?

Further Developments for Wench’s Virgin Training School

Classes are forming and virgin trainees are lining up at the gates of Wench’s Virgin Training School!
I, Anne, Wench of Aramink, wish to extend a hale and hearty welcome to all of my students!

Please let me introduce you to the faculty:

SweetP, the undisputed Queen of 69, shall be teaching a class in – what else – 69! Retaining one’s virginity during 69s is of paramount importance for our virgins. SweetP’s qualifications are impeccable, seeing as how she got not one, not two, not three, not four, but FIVE 69’s on OhBilly’s Dusty Springfield blog! This woman is GOOD! We are so pleased to have her aboard! Her Teaching Assistant is none other than Melissa, who got three 69’s on the same blog.

CFBookChick, is chairman of our dance department. Her exhibition performance of the Dance of the Seven Veils is, of course, the industry standard. Belly dancing, pole dancing, and lap dancing are electives, but each virgin must reach mastery in at least one of these dance areas.

Mad Diane LeDeux, who is our Flogger of Recalcitrant Virgins, handles “special education” instruction at Wench’s Virgin Training School. Already Mad Diane has had to wield her whip a few times. We are sad to report that we do have disciplinary issues with some students. Shira is in the habit of sleeping behind her veil and Silly, keeps showing up for class naked. For some reason Mad Diane is particularly enthusiastic about Silly’s floggings.

Guy, High Priest of Meatloaf and proud owner of the famous Giant Cock, is in charge of Virgin Spiritual Studies. He definitely keeps our spirits high!

Ross D has generously offered his supervisory services for a laboratory practicum for aspiring virgins. The exact details of what will happen in these labs has not yet been revealed.

Queenie Beaudine will be in charge of Virgin Etiquette and Interpersonal Relations. Queenie comes to us quite experienced in the ways of behavior, having put up with her evil twin Cussy’s behavior since before birth. Students may have to bring dictionaries to class, though, because sometimes Queenie uses big words that are difficult to understand, even in context.

And now, a description of the facilities:

Despite Homeland Security’s accusations that the school is an Arab Training Camp, our Navy SEALs are quite devoted to us. Our SEALs, supervised by Basser, provide round-the-clock security in the bushes around the school, inside the FEMA trailers and on the way to and from classes. They make training films of our students and helpfully watch them over and over again to provide us with constructive criticism of our techniques. They even offer free breast exams to our Virgins. I believe that without exception the SEALs are one of the most popular and beloved aspects of Wench’s Virgin Training School!

Everyone is aware that the FEMA trailers left over from the Katrina SNAFU are at our disposal, thanks to David’s high-level government contacts in Hope, Arkansas. Each virgin has been assigned to a FEMA trailer and two of Basser’s Navy SEALs are with her at all times. The SEALs work in shifts, so each virgin actually has six SEALs for her pleasurable protection. These six SEALs are in addition to the numerous SEALs who keep the perimeter of the school secure and who are engaged in conducting breast exams at any given time.

The camels are being kept in a corral and I have plans to ask Lou, who has some experience with large beasts of burden, to be camelmaster. Lou, what do you say? Surely the transition from horses to camels won’t be too much of a challenge, will it?

Spy has offered his services in the realm of financial advice. Since Hachbar Vinmook posted the livestock exchange rate his accounting duties have been made considerably easier. Habib Aktar returned from his stay in the hospital (for the addadictomy) with a huge wad of cash in his pants – boy, was HE happy to see us! – which of course enriched us further. We have some problems with some of our assets, though, because it seems that both Ohio and Texas were at different points traded for virgins. Finding a place large enough to store two entire states has presented us with some difficulties, but I’m sure Spy has things worked out on the accounting side.

And, of course, the Curriculum:

There have been some modifications to the curriculum, and there are likely to be more as we obtain the services of new instructors in different disciplines. There are two required texts. The first text is “Virgins for Dummies.” As soon as that text has been completed, each Virgin begins intensive study of “The Pop-Up Kama Sutra.”

Certification of Revirginification is issued when the Virgin demonstrates mastery of all areas of study and passes her Orals.

Because this school is such a novel enterprise, all suggestions for the curriculum will be considered. Please advise the administration of any ideas you have.

Thank you for your support,

Anne, Wench of Aramink

Wench’s Virgin Training School

By popular demand, and because Hachbar left me in charge, I have now seen fit to open a Training School.

This is no ordinary Training School, Dear Readers. It is a Virgin Training School. And there is a valuable and lovely Tradition that has inspired it.  It started on the pages of Yahoo 360.

The Tradition started on or about Monday, November 6, 2006 (yes, a Day of Yore if ever there was one), when our belovedHabib Aktarprecipitously appeared on the scene with his herd of camels and his blog message, “I Want for Sex to You.” This is what started it all.

You see, Habib, that happy fellow who looks nothing like a terrorist and who adores Cleveland, comes to the West in search of Virgins. For some reason, he thinks America HAS virgins.

He approached KimberKat at 12:37 p.m., evidently having heard that there were virgins on her page. Kimber was helpless to confirm such an outrage, but Habib played on her page a bit longer. He desperately wanted virgins, and advised Kimber he was willing to trade camels for virgins. Such an offer is almost fatally irresistible, but somehow Kimber held on to her honor throughout the ordeal.

About the same time, Habib miraculously appeared on Bobbie-Lynn’s and Free’s pages. He suggested such activities as camel humping to them. He paused to flirt with Juls. (That evening he returned to Juls’ page, offering to “humpy humpy” with her, and noting that she was in harem dress, and asking her, “How many camels for you?” He appeared to Jen the very same afternoon requesting information about horny monkey sex. That evening, he could be found romancing Natalie, also known as Ms Medic. “Habib like you be in harem. Do you like humpy humpy camel love?” he flirted.

It was uncanny when, the next day, November 7, many female members of the Hornified Sex Monkeys were visited by ahmed s,who was obviously a friend or else a competitor of Habib’s. Once again, Jen got a visit, I got a visit, Kimber got a visit…

But Habib was making his rounds, too. For example, the tnbrneyedgirl, aka Lisa, heard from him.

But November 7 was also a day of great infamy. That was the day we met Virgin, that spicy, delectable bit of woman-flesh that Habib counts as his first true Western conquest.

At first, we Hornified Sex Monkeys were a bit nonplussed. You see, Habib figured out that Juls lived in West Virginia, which he thought meant “Western Virgin” or something. He was very excited. Both Kimber and Juls found Habib to be somewhat of a pest, and threatened to call Orkin. However, Virgin informed them that Orkin would not be necessary, because she was in high heat for Habib and would be taking him off their hands.

Habib wasn’t pesky to everyone, though. Gypsy Firecrackeradmitted the next morning that she had had one of “those” dreams about Habib the night before. Now every time she calls Tech Support she gets excited thinking she’s talking to Habib. Lisa traded herself to Habib for merely 4 camels, not realizing that she would be a bargain at any price and despite having already been sold to Liam for 100 goats. Two days later, Virgin put out a call for a catfight. Green-eyed jealousy had trumped brown-eyed Tennessee, and Virgin was mad. Fortunately, OhBilly immediately translated it into a snowball fight to diffuse the stemming violence. Meanwhile, Habib was trading recipes with women whose virginity he sought. Sue remarked in conversation with Kimber, “Habib said I could have some of his cockloaf, but only if I move to Virginia! He says it tastes just like chicken (or camel).” That crazy, culinary Habib!

On Saturday, November 11, Habib reported sadly that he had found no new virgins. Shortly thereafter, though, he was seen haunting the pages of Red Carol.

When Sunday, November 12 dawned, our beloved Virgin was distraught. She had lost track of Habib and was looking for him. For some reason she thought Habib might be hanging out with Jen, but no. He wasn’t at Free’s. He wasn’t at Juls’ place, either. Nor was he to be found on Tricia’s or Kimber’s or Natalie’s pages. She had no luck locating him at Gypsy’s or Bobbie-Lynn’s, either. Habib was looking hard for other Virgins to fill his harem, and had not had time to spend with the lovely virgin Virgin.

But Habib was not the only Arab Action in Our Town of 360 for long! No, Hachbar Vinmook appeared the night of Monday, November 13, and immediately began throwing his weight around. “Habib served walking papers. New Sharif in town. Hachbar take all virgin.” read his comments on the Jen’s page.

Habib was worried.

Hachbar warned Kimber, “You come to Hachbar. Habib Bad!”

Virgin, of course, took issue with Habib’s profession of love for Kimber. “Don’t listen to him Kimber, those missile launchers are STILL in front of our tent, and I told him to move em a WEEK ago! … and what’s this about love??? You got some ‘splennin to do chicky.” Another catfight was in someone’s future.

Appalled, Habib responded quickly. He was being forced to retaliate. “Habib only bad to you Hachboob,” he said.

“Keeemie no listen to lumpy bumpy camel humpy. You know Habib love you,” Habib declared to Kimber.

“No listen to Hachgoobers Jen. You help Habib find many virgins to bare Habibi-babies.” Then, showing his improving mastery of English, he corrected, “Habib mean bear not bare. No need have naked babies running all over.” Habib has been hanging out in Cleveland long enough to pick up the vernacular.

Habib’s desperate plea went out to Red Carol and Free: “Habib need you help to find many virgins.” Clearly, Habib was desperate.

Just after midnight, Habib notified Juls of the sad turn of events. “Habib need your help. Send many virgins to Habib. There is new Funny-Muzzy name Hachbar trying to steal Habib’s womans.”

“Habib have big plans for you,” he reminded Natalie, obviously hoping she would not defect to Hachbar’s camp.

Hachbar continued looting and pillaging throughout 360. On Tuesday the 14th, he hit on Superbitch, Sue, Gypsy, Lisa (he even offered to trade Texas oil wells for her!), and SweetP.

Hachbar didn’t stop with hitting on women Habib had already touched, though. No. He said to Shira, “You make good virgin. haboob old news. my harem small. no waiting.” He flirted with JeniT and for some reason thought she would be obedient to him (shows what he knows about Jeni! Ha!) He also hit on Nancy and Sherry.

It was with Hachbar’s entry into the emerging virgin market that I, the Wench of Aramink, recognized an entrepreneurial opportunity. Donning a harem costume, that afternoon I quickly penned a missive to Sue, Natalie, Shira, Browneye, Jen, Gypsy, and Juls. “I will train you to be a virgin for Habib and Hachbar. They pay me many camels to do this.”

Shira remarked with some amazement, “You can train me to be a virgin? All right! I’ll make a lot of money that way . . . er, I mean, Habib and Hachbar will be SO pleased.”

Hachbar WAS excited. That evening, he told Jen, “You make good choice, come to Hachbar. I see you have man so I tell Wench to give you good job somewhere pleasant. Maybe she need assistant training virgins.”

Gypsy suggested training Habib and Hachbar to be virgins for each other. They were both rather lukewarm to that idea, so revirginification is limited to women for the time being.

Since then, the ranks of my students have been swelled by Sus, Tricia, Selinda, and Sherry.
Although she claimed to Hachbar that she was a good cook, Jen hasn’t applied for an assistant virgin trainer position. I had planned let her do a work-study program as a lunchroom lady. But I have added other staff members who have agreed to work-study, or even full-time positions, in other areas.

I have been very pleased at the enthusiasm with which my virgins-in-training have taken to their studies. For example, Gypsy Firecracker noticed that Shira had cheated and read Lesson 3 already – something she would not have known had Gypsy not also cheated and read Lesson 3.

Now, it seems, just as Wench’s Virgin Training School is getting off the ground, I have competition. This Sultana Saibabie person has invaded the lives of the school and its students. “I understand you are one of Wench’s virgins. Come to me, instead. I will gain a higher camel price for your virtue than she will,” Sultana said to Sherry, Sus, Lisa, Kimber, Gypsy, Natalie, Juls, Shira, Jen, and Selinda. Sus and Sherry defended me nobly against this upstart tart, who somehow has managed to get MANY of our favorite men on her Friends List! What is she leading them around by, anyhow?

She seems to have gotten to the men before any of us women knew about her. Davidflirted with her as early as last Tuesday, which means she has been around almost as long as Hachbar. And just today, that Old SaltJack Tar suggested that he take Sultana’s virgins for a test drive, while DavidT (no relation to JeniT) thought it looked as though Sultana might have put on a rather enjoyable party. Humph.

Hachbar saw through Sultana immediately, I am pleased to report. For instance, he contacted my dear friend JeniT, and told her, “Jeni. Hachbar say go to Wench. Bring many bull who hate red.” Gotta love that Hachbar. He did so well that he wooed Lisa “Browneye” away from Habib with the romantic words in his Blast!

Meanwhile, Wench’s Virgin Training School continues to organize and revirginate. The school has officially adopted “Like a Virgin” as the school’s alma mater and “Midnight at the Oasis” will be the theme for prom.

The curriculum so far:

Lesson 1: Establishing a Man’s Desires
Lesson 2: Dress Pleasing to Men or “Showing Weenus”(Kimber and Gypsy have made Dean’s List for their mastery of this particular lesson)
Lesson 3: Camming for Quarters in Qatar

Oh, and I almost forgot. Mad Diane LeDeux,who claims no interest in being revirginated, has graciously accepted the position of Flogger of Recalcitrant Revirgins. Her place of Public Punishment at the Twisted Wench Daiquiri Lounge hasn’t been getting enough use lately since she’s threatened to turn those who cross her into zombies.

Matriculate NOW!

An Applicant for Virgin Training School

I’m going to start a Virgin Training School.  There are so many Trolls and Troglodytes online that seem to need the services of just the right woman.  They want women to get on webcams with them, to have cybersex with them, to talk to them despite their lack of command of a common language. I get several instant messages a day from them, whether I’m invisible or not.
 
This person, whose sex I don’t know, started this conversation with me this morning.  Yes, this is his real ID. I could be circumspect and not publish the IDs of these losers, but frankly, why not?  They are the morons who behave so incredibly inappropriately.
 
I know, the obvious question is why I even bother to talk to these jerks.  To be honest, sometimes it amuses me to toy with them.  They have no idea that they are engaged in a battle of wits and are weaponless. 

kaansalefe: hello
kaansalefe: virgin?
Aramink: why, yes. How did you ever guess?
Aramink: In fact, I train other women to be virgins
kaansalefe: ur profil nicee
Aramink: Thank you very much
kaansalefe: would u like to talk to me on the mic?
Aramink: No, I’m sorry.  My mic does not work.
kaansalefe: ur cam?
Aramink: no, the cam and the mic both are out of order
kaansalefe: wanna show u my virgin p*ssy
Aramink: how kind of you.  Are you seeking admission to my Virgin Training School?
kaansalefe: see my p*ssy and tell me the truth about mine
Aramink: Well, I can’t really tell just from pictures over a cam.  I would have to have you go through  rigorous medical examination conducted by our Medic.
kaansalefe: ok
kaansalefe: f*ck u
kaansalefe: bye
kaansalefe: sorry
Aramink: ROFLMAO

Website for Internet Addiction Recovery

There is a website dedicated to overcoming Internet Addiction.

It greets me in a cheerily professional manner: “Welcome to the Center for Internet Addiction Recovery!” Evidently the irony of this site’s existence is lost on the proprietors. I nearly want to slap the smiling cyberface before it doses me with cybermeds to break the downward spiral of my increasing cyber addiction.

I have searched the DSM-IV, that manual of renown that sets out the specific criteria for mental health anomalies. There is not an addiction to the internet that is officially recognized by the Powers That Be in the psychiatric community.

But I just KNOW it has to be out there. Otherwise, why would there be a treatment for it? Surely this website is not just teasing me! If I am a victim of this dread disease, surely the disease exists!

So I Google it. Not only do I turn up 7.4 million results in 0.45 seconds, but I am also told by Google (the authority of which is second only to Wikipedia, in my mind) that I can further refine my results by such categories as “Treatment,” “Tests/diagnosis,” “Symptoms,” “Causes/risk factors,” and “Alternative medicine.”

WHIPLASH!

Excuse me, but “alternative medicine? Internet addiction can be cured by acupuncture? Really? Ooooooh, goody! I can combine my revulsion of needles AND my love of the internet! Talk about aversion therapy!

By far, the greatest discovery I have ever made on the entire internet, and the one plug-in for Mozilla I use almost daily, is StumbleUpon. It’s a great little button I click merrily several times a day when I feel like tickling my brain into hyper-awareness. It takes me to random internet sites that address topics I have told StumbleUpon I’d like to stumble onto periodically. I recommend it for anyone who, as I do, enjoys mindless surfing as their primary exercise.

Stumble helped me find the second greatest thing about the internet: the fact that it has an end. Actually, it has several ends, which proves that it is not really a web but a series of interconnected strings, much like the macrame wall hanging I made for my mom in 1975 that she still proudly displays.

The Internet evolved to its logical end. Just like us.

Yet Another Typical IM Troll

hot_guy: hi
Me: you can’t be serious. Your ID is “hot guy?
hot_guy: yes
Me: why
Me: are you just trolling for cybersex?
hot_guy: i don’t know
Me: you don’t
hot_guy: no now
hot_guy: cyber
hot_guy: u want cyber?
Me: hell, no
hot_guy: ok
hot_guy: Image
hot_guy: what are u doing
Me: reading news
hot_guy: hmm
hot_guy: ok
hot_guy: i am search hot lady now
hot_guy: Image
Me: well, this one’s cold
hot_guy: hmm
hot_guy: where hot ladyys ?
hot_guy: Image
Me: My guess is that they’ve been sacrificed to the volcano gods
Me: why don’t you go see?
hot_guy: ok
Me: Habib, is this you?
Me: I’ll kill ya….
hot_guy: no
hot_guy: i am kevin
Mei: ok
Me: nevermind, then
hot_guy: ok
Me: Why in the world did you contact me?
hot_guy: ok

Another Typical IM Conversation with a Troll

I OUGHT to publish this retard’s name, but I won’t.  My thoughts and what was going on at the time are in italics.

Him: How are u doing today ?
Me: good, and you?
Him: I am doing fine.  I am david and u
Me: Hi, David. I’m Anne
Him: Wow u are looking cute and charming
Me: thanks
Him: You remind me if my mom
Me:  so I look old  (his MOM?!?  WTF?!)
Him:
Yes that what u are  but age is just a number ok (Fuck you, buddy, “just a number!”)
Me:
so how old are you? 17?
Him: I am 41 now  and u ?  (41? and I look like his MOM?  What as ass.  What a smooth talker! snort)
Me:
44, so there is no way I could be your mom (Damn, I should have said I was 34)
Him:
Lol oh okay.  You must be a funny person (yeah, buddy, you don’t know the half of it.  Let’s have some fun…)
Me:
You have no idea…
Him: I am from Springfield, MO and u (god, you’re American?  I had you pegged for Arab or African)
Me:
Little Rock
Him: are u married ?
Me: no – divorced for a little over a year. You?
Him: divorced for over 3 yrs now
Me: I think that being divorced beats the heck out of the alternative (like being married to someone you’d prefer not to be married to.  Or dead.)
Him:
Yes u are right.  But my ex said she wants it and i plead on her but i think she has made her decisions (I guess she did, if you’ve been divorced 3 years. This guy didn’t understand what I mean by “the alternative.”)
Me: I’m delighted to finally be divorced.
Him: Oh okay.  i like the smile on your face  is the the way u always smile ? (No, usually I have the rictus of a grimace when I talk to idiots like you.)
Me:
On my 360 page?  oh, that’s almost a kind of Mona Lisa look, isn’t it (wonder if this moron is wondering who Mona is)
Him:
Yeap
Me: usually I have a big s
-eating grin (should have typed “shit” to see if he’d run)
Him:
I will like to look that smile on your face on day  Hope u will like that (If you ever see my face it will be with a taunting grin on it, you had better believe…)
Me: that’s a very sweet thing to say
Him: oh okay Well i am a very passionate person (passionate?  Does he know what that means? It is a big word with three syllables.)
Me:
So am I, but I laugh a lot
Him: My friend do say that i am kind of like giving (what friends?  you seem like a loser to me)
Me:
so how did you find me?
Him: My heart directed me to you  In 360 yahoo (Your heart.  What a load of crap.)
Me: what did you see there that interested you?
Him: Just the pics The little smile on your face (he didn’t read the page, obviously)
Me:
oh
Him: Do you have a cam ? (get the fuck out!  He didn’t read the first line on the page!)
Me:
you didn’t read my page, did you?
Him: Nope
Me: If you had read my page, you would know the answer to that
Him: That u can’t cam with me
Me: sort of… (god, jackass, go read the freaking page!)
Him:
well i don’t understand what the page is (wonder if you understand anything?  I bet you’d be proud if your IQ test came back negative.)
Me: 
There’s a statement at the very top of my page that says, “No, I will NOT cam with you.” and then there is a link you can click that will explain everything (so freaking READ it and GO AWAY)
Him:
Yes i saw that (moron)
Me: so, why don’t you read it.
Him: okay

(pause)

Him: I have read it but it’s just saying funny things that i don’t understand (then how do you know it’s funny?)
Me:
What do you not understand?
Him: Everything (alert the media – we have an honest man here, folks – he’s too stupid to try to bluff his way through this one.  Film at eleven.)
Me:
really
Him: Now lets forget about the profile ok and lets talk better here (Right.  As if…)
Me:
I don’t know that we will have very much to talk about
Him: Yes i am ready to talk about anything (you wouldn’t know how)
Me:
Well, you have me at a disadvantage. You see, you have been to my 360 page, and you see what my interests are. You’ve even read how to get my attention, if you clicked the link and read that page. But I know absolutely NOTHING about you or your interests.
Him: well i am looking for a real committed relationship here and not here for head games (and that’s the only interest you have?)
Me:  So…why don’t you tell me some of your interests?
Him: Oh well My interest is  I want a woman that is faithful honest loyal and a passionate lady (um. Yeah.  You said that. Do you really think I asked you to repeat yourself all over again?  By this point I’ve started snickering out loud.)
Me: I see. Well, having a mate in mind is all well and good, but don’t you think that the friendship that comes before the mating should be based on something?
Him: Oh and what is it (No, you really DON’T have a clue, do you?  I’m laughing out loud, now.)
Me:
well, like, on common interests. Activities. Things you do besides stare into each other’s eyes. You know, the stuff conversations are made of.
Him: Yes. U are right. I was expecting you ask (Like I HAVEN’T?)
Me: so…what do you like to do?
Him: I like camping ,swimming dancing and watching movies  (Ah.  Progress.  Maybe he has a brain cell after all.)
Me:
All of those are good things. What kind of movies do you like?
Him: I like passions films and loves films (Passions and loves?  Jeez…)
Me: You like chick flicks? NO WAY.
Him: No
Me: what do you mean by passion films? (like, Passion of the Christ?  Like the Notebook?  what?)
Him: I mean loving films (But not chick flicks.  Any guy in America would think a “loving” film is a chick flick, idiot…  At this point I am laughing really loud, and Jack, my 15 year old son, comes in to see what’s up.  I show him the conversation.  “Mom,” Jack says seriously,  “the guy means porn.”  “Oh my god! Really?”  I gasp, and ask the question…)
Me: You mean porn?
Him: Have you watched dissapearing acts (disappearing porn…OMFG!  “Jack!  he means snuff films!”  We’re both dying laughing.)
Me:
um, no
Him: That’s the kind of film that i am saying very interesting (Jack and I are both laughing hysterically.)
Me:
You mean snuff films? (“Mom!  I can’t believe you asked him that!”  Jack is shocked, but laughing.)
Him: It’s a kind of loving film  he teaches how someone needs to take care of women . it’s emotional  (What an idiot!  How should I respond?  Oh!  I know!)
Me: Oh. well. I like comedies and drama and suspense
Him: Oh nice  i hate suspense (It’s nice you hate what I like and you’re trying to hit on me?  Idiot.)
Me: really? Why?
Him: I hate someone keeping me in suspense (god, you must be dull)
Me:
oh. You like to know what’s going on, huh
(pause)  (Jack is trying to convince me to mess with him really bad – to concoct some lies and see how he responds)
Him:
Yes  what are u doing right now?
Me: talking with my son
Him: Oh i c
Me: He desperately needs a father figure  (I’m about to wet my pants I’m laughing so hard at what Jack wants me to say)
Him:
i will be there for him one day (The hell you say!)
Me:  His father won’t have anything to do with him. He says that the disease the child has makes the boy unfit to be considerd his son (This is ALL Jack’s idea – I swear.  I’m laughing so hard I’m having trouble typing.)
Him: Oh that’s bad
Me: Yes. His father is very rich and powerful, but is not a nice person at all.  (ok, that part is my idea – and untrue)
Him:
Oh that’s bad . I care for my kids so much and i tried to see them once in every month (Once a month!  You’re too good to them!  Most noncustodial parents get alternating weekends, asshole.  Why aren’t you doing that?!)
Me:
That’s wonderful! Well, My ex-husband beat me regularly(no he did NOT), even when I didn’t deserve it (deserve it?!?) , so for my sake I am glad I don’t have to see him, but little Johnny misses him terribly. He is three, and doesn’t understand (Jack’s story line, again.  We’re holding onto each other laughing as he comes up with more outrageous things to tell this loser that I nix because it’s just too … OUT there)
Him: Well u will need to be consoling him.  I am a caring person and god fearing (really?  I’m a pagan-athiest-rastafarian)
Me: Well, I have to go.  (Jack:  “Awwww, Mom, we could have more fun…!”)
Him: Why are u going anne (Because you’re an idiot and I’m laughing too hard to type any more)
Me:
bye
Him: will you come back ? (fat chance)

Nothing

 

I have contributed nothing to my child’s genetics. I was an incubator.

I caught my 15 year old son doing a Man Thought Process tonight.
Busted him flat.
Nailed him.
Caught him red handed.

 

    It’s a Man Thought Process I used to tease my ex about, and now my son is proudly performing the same Man Thought Process.

    Here is what happened:

    I walked into the living room. The TV was on, but he wasn’t watching it. He was just kind of staring into space, slack-jawed, a vacant look in his eyes.
    “Hi, honey,” I said. “Whatcha thinking?”
    “Oh. Hi, Mom. Um, nothing.”
    “Oh, you can tell me. I’m wanting a parent-child bonding moment, and what better way than to share your thoughts?”
    “I really wasn’t thinking about anything.”
    “Now, dear, I know you were thinking of something. Do you not want to tell me?”
    “Mom, really. I wasn’t thinking of anything!”
    “Nothing at all?”
    “Nothing!”
    “Oh, come on. No one can just think of nothing. You were thinking of something. What was it?”
    “Nothing, Mom! I wasn’t thinking of anything!”
    “You mean to tell me you can just sit there and stare into space and think of nothing at all.”
    “Yes!”
    “Your mind is just empty, not a single thought wafting through it.”
    “Right!”
    “That’s impossible, son. You had to be thinking of something.”
    “NO! I WASN’T! I WASN’T THINKING OF ANYTHING!”
    “You were thinking of absolutely nothing.”
    “YES! I WAS THINKING OF ABSOLUTELY NOTHING!”

    It could have gone on in this vein for quite some time. I am quite good at goading him. It’s the skill of cross-examination coupled with maternal skepticism. With every question I let him know by my tone and cocked eyebrow how silly I thought his response was. He got more and more defensive of his vacant brain. It worked with the ex, it worked with the mini-him. For that matter, it’s worked on every male I’ve ever encountered. Well, all but three. Those three were much to fast on their toes to let me think I had caught them with helium between their ears.

    Would a woman ever be so proud of thinking of absolutely nothing?

Typical IM Conversation

Him: hi, do you like younger men?
Me: how much younger?
Me: Like, young enough to be my offspring? no
Him: 28
Me: dangerously close to offspring territory at 28, sorry
Him: close, but not in
Me: If I had been unlucky in high school, we’d be in offspring territory
Him: but were not, so what part of sd are you in?
Me: sd?  I’m in arkansas
Him: really???
Him: what part?
Me: Little Rock
Me: why?  where are you?
Him: san diego
Him: what do you do for fun in LR
Me: The obvious – we reminisce about presidential politics, independent counsels, and being involved in Bill Clinton’s love life.
Him: ha!  bill clinton my hero
Me: really?  most people claim to hate him
Me: they lie, though
Him: yea i think he an interesting guy
Me: So long as he was in office we never had to worry about nuclear annihilation.  He was having way too much fun ever to push the button.
Him: yea, goodtimes
Me: woo-hoo
Him: you ever come to SD?
Me: Never been there.  Hear there’s a great zoo, complete with Pandas, tho
Him: Always with the Zoo!  why is it so popular?
Me: dunno.  Never been there.  I’ve just heard that it’s a good one
Me: Is it?
Him: its ok
Him: I think Ive been there too many times
Me: that’s all?  Just “ok”?
Me: jaded, huh
Him: Yea I have a “Fun Pass” so I can go all year for free
Me: well, if you ever come to Little Rock, go to the zoo.  You’ll acquire a new appreciation for San Diego’s, I’m sure
Him: that bad huh?
Me: No pandas
Him: do they just have a bunch of dogs or something?
Me: prairie dogs
Him: exciting
Me: well, we think so
Him: you’re single?
Me: yes
Him: man, you’re so far away that sucks
Me: yeah.  And I’m so old.  That sucks, too
Him: youre really cute though, and I LOVE women that are older than I
Him: 43 right? thats not old
Me: yeah, well, call me “Ma’am.”  Mind your manners, you young whippersnapper.
Me: 44.  I had a birthday last month.
Him: mmmmm yummy
Me: lol
Him: as long as you dont wear granny panties, I’m good
Me: oh, baby.  I should fire up the web cam and let you see my very large cotton granny panties.
Him: lol
Him: wait, thats not funny
Me: then why were you laughing?
Me: admit it – you laughed
Him: a little
Him: I would have prefered if you said thong, or crotchless or something like that
Me: ok.  My EDIBLE CROTCHLESS non-THONG very large cotton granny panties
Me: Did that do anything for you?
Him: A slight giggle
Me: uh-huh
Him: still makes me hungry though
Me: the edible part, right?
Him: yup
Him: I can eat them into thongs
Me: It’s dinner time on the left coast
Me: you’d nibble around the edges, huh
Him: at first
Me: Don’t go there.  You’re much too young and you’ll offend my Victorian sensibilities
Him: Do I have to work around a chastity belt or something?
Me: yep.  Not to mention a corset
Me: oh – wait – no
Me: a corset might turn you on
Him: yes it would
Me: so… a hoop skirt and bloomers
Him: you’re being very anti-erection right now
Me: yeah, well, given your age I’m disinclined to inspire an erection
Me: It feels too much like kiddie porn
Him: I saw your pic, and I doubt that
Me: please don’t be offended, it’s just that I’m quite elderly
Me: matronly, even
Me: and no, normally I’m not anti-erection at all
Me: I’m very pro-erection
Me: It’s politically expedient in today’s climate to be pro-erection
Me: It’s an erection year, after all
Me: I mean, election year
Me: or something
Me: Hello?
Me: Hmmm.  guess I chased him off…