Even in a room all alone we still have a friend. Except when you don’t because they’re too busy to answer your posts (for months. You know who you are) or maybe have blocked you for some reason or another. Not that I would know what that feels like. No siree.
That’s when you can turn to spam. Not the mystery meat, although I suppose if you’re depressed enough you could turn to that. But, I’d choose ice cream first. Just my opinion.
Spam mail. The ever present back up plan. Because, you see, someone will always know who you are and where you are. I’ve gotten spam mail from people who claim to be close to me and except for the fact that they only list a first name, and I don’t have a working knowledge of it, they could be my next BFF.
Just yesterday I realized the options were endless. If it weren’t for the fact that I’m married, happily so for almost twenty years, I could look into Russian singles. Who cares that I don’t speak Russian or live in Russia, which would make dating a bitch. Or call upon my new best friend whose mail header thanks me for reading their mail (I didn’t) and tells me they love me. Here I’ve been working for a paycheck and now I can do it for having a pen-pal.
If lonely enough for company I could talk with my internet buddy who is offering a way to erase my mortgage (who would know these things anyway?). Or I could investigate further the emails I keep getting about the new account I set up that needs confirmation even though I don’t recall ever setting up a new account anywhere.
My next conversation could be with the excited person encouraging me to open their message so I can give them my personal information that’s required to deposit the 1.2 million dollar check they have for me! (I seriously received one of these this week. Duh. How stupid do I look online? Never mind, don’t answer that.)
Which leads me to the requests to go back to school. Maybe I’m a stupid typer or I type stupidly, but at any rate, isn’t it rude for a friend to suggest you go back for more education?
Hours can be sucked into this vortex of spamness, where it’s all about you, your pathetic attempt at being popular, your social security number, and the hope and dreams of getting something for nothing.
I think I’ll shut the computer off now and get some ice cream instead.