14 January 2003

Color Me REALLY FUCKING Disturbed

My first name and my father's first name begin with the same letter. A female acquaintance of his has apparently mistaken my Hotmail address for my father's.

Nothing explicit, merely implied, but still, there are some mental images a girl should not have where her father is concerned. Which brings me to another disturbing thought:

My Hotmail account is 99.99999% spam. I don't use it for correspondence any more, though I occasionally peruse the spam folder just to make sure some long lost correspondent doesn't slip through the cracks. Of said spam, a lot of it is for a demographic that I am not a part of: the fat, horny, under-endowed, paranoid, balding and married-about-to-be-divorced demographic.

Let's see here:



Fat: I am not fat. Neither is my dad, but he's got a bit of middle age spread.

Horny: Well, that's pretty fucking obvious. But I don't surf hot young teen pootang. I refused to speculate on my father's libido. Ick.

Under-endowed: I do not have a penis, aside from a vibrating plastic one. Considering that I am on this fair earth, I think it's safe to say that my father does. And no, I do not care to speculate on its size or lack thereof. Double Ick.

Paranoid: Uh, nope. I have my tin foil helmet. Dad taught me how to make one.

Balding: I have hair down to my ass, thanks. But male pattern baldness is a running family joke on Dad's side.

Married/divorced: I have never been either one. Dad has been both.

So I am harbouring a vague suspicion that I am receiving spam intended for my father. Which considering all the porn and penis enhancement spam I get, IS REALLY FUCKING DISTURBING.

Like send-me-into-therapy disturbing. Ick. Ick. Ick. I feel the need to shower and loofah my skin into an angry pink shade. Or to slug back a fifth of Jack Daniels. Or both.

Electra has nothing on me. Off to slug some JD in the shower in an attempt at self therapy. ugh.

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