I am plugged in. But this takes the cake. This morning I got an email from a guy in U.K asking me to come and speak at an event. I knew it was Spam, the way the English was phrased. “we are pleased you have English in your web page.”
And I knew I shouldn’t respond.
But, I was bored. And frankly curious. And just like when I see Porn pop ups sometimes I can’t help myself click on Hot Babes. After two minutes I am disgusted with myself. Not because they are sex slaves, but because the acting is bad, and the angles of the camera just don’t look right.
But today I was having an emotional morning. Clients weren’t signing on the dotted line. I couldn’t get motivated to get my writing done, so I replied to the guy in the U.K and after two emails he was a scam artist. A scam spam artist.
But I kept hoping. Hoping this SPAM had potential. That is, if I talked to him in a loving way, he’d act like a better kind of Spam.
I was hoping the SPAM would pull itself by the boot straps and be what I need. A real gig.
Alas no. And when I told him, I couldn’t go to England without being paid up front, I added, a very assertive exclamation point. Then, I added a sorry.
A “Sorry, Spam.”
Saying sorry, to SPAM suggests it is time to back away from the lap top. It suggests one might need to get a little perspective.
I just came back from the The Second Cup where I am sipping on some cocoa and see Spam didn’t get back to me. As I lick the whipped cream sensually off from my mouth (the way the Russian Babes in the ad do ) I wait till Anderson Cooper comes on to whisk me away from my troubles.