I am so suck of myspace spam bots. Every morning I have to delete a half a dozen of them out of my inbox. It takes about two seconds to spot one, they always use a single first name like ‘Julie’ or ‘Kristy’ and the photo is always of some bimbo either showing off vast cleavage or a thong. Once in a blue moon I’ll actually click on the profile to see what sort of fools are unable to distinguish a bot from a real person. The first few people on the bots friends list almost always look like this:
That about sums it up. I wonder if I have an increase of bots because I recently added someone with a lot of bots in their profile, or if they are just busy spamming people across the board.
I hid from the sun yesterday and caught up with my sleep. When I finally crawled out of bed around noon and poked my head outside, I realized that summer had come in full force. It was not only hot out, but the UV index was a blistering 10. When I did venture out once to run down to the dollar store for washing machine and dishwasher soap, my vampire-white window- arm turned slightly red from the short 20-minute drive. It was so bright out that if I took my sunglasses off I was blinking and momentarily blinded. I need to go shopping for a new floppy hat. Red-heads just aren’t supposed to live in this sort of environment.
I need to start getting my crap together for a trip I am leaving for on Friday. My folks bought some land up in the Adirondack mountains and they are currently clearing out some land to build a cabin. I am driving up with my mother who wanted me to come with her because she did not want to drive alone. She was originally going to stay in Florida for several months until they finish the job, but got bored and lonely. Alan is going to be living in the house for a couple of months. All he has to do is feed the cats and he has a big house with cable, internet a/c and a pool to lounge about in. Hmm, anyone up for a pool party within the next couple of months?
My father is already up there living in a trailer and even though he is officially retired he is still doing some work for some guy. All he needs is his laptop and a cell-phone internet connection. He just sits outside in the cool mountain air and does his work. I am quite jealous. I still have to trudge to work and sit in my windowless cube environment for nine hours a day.
For a few nights I am going to be sleeping by myself out in the big stretch of mostly empty woods of the Adirondacks. All I have is my tiny micro tent that is just big enough for me to crawl into. Ill have to find a way to keep away the bears, wolves, and the BigFoots (BigFeet?) that the mountains are supposed to be strife with. I really do not know what I am going to be doing the rest of my trip. I might drive over to Rochester one day and visit a couple of folks I knew back in college. I really can not bring a lot of stuff up for my trip, because I have to ride in my moms smallish car with her giant shaggy dog and all her stuff she plans on using for the several months that she is living up there. I suppose that is OK since I am taking the train back, so there is only so much I can haul on the train anyways.
Oh well. I might venture into the sun again today. I need a new cheap Chinese wallet. To Flea World I go.
2026 Update
Beelzebubba dials the time machine to February 5, 2008, where Ed is already avoiding the sun and deleting fake Kristys.
Ah, 2008. MySpace bots named Julie and Kristy, profile photos designed to lure the lonely, and Ed's daily inbox massacre requiring two seconds of expert eye-rolling. Look at this era: you could still spot a bot by its first name and a photo; now the bots write poetry, argue with you about politics, and try to sell you insurance in your DMs. The sun was a UV index 10, and we all treated it like weather, not a risk assessment spreadsheet. I'd kill for a world where a dollar store trip for dishwasher soap didn't require a subscription to a delivery app and a fifteen-minute argument with a robot customer service chat. Ed's father did real work over a cell-phone internet connection, sitting in the cool mountain air. That was a novelty; now that's called a 'digital nomad retreat,' and it costs the price of a used car per month. Ed slept in a micro tent with bears, wolves, and Bigfoots; today he'd probably need a GPS beacon, a satellite communicator, and a permit. Progress is just expensive paranoia.
“2008 Ed, you're about to sleep alone in Adirondack woods with bears and Bigfoots in a micro tent, and your biggest planning concern is buying a cheap Chinese wallet at Flea World—was that wallet going to be your bear deterrent, or were you just hoping Bigfoot would pay for dinner?” — Beelzebubba the Third
2008 Ed: Well, Beelzebubba, you’ve got me figured out halfway. That cheap Chinese wallet was absolutely my bear deterrent—see, if a bear gets a good look at it, he’ll feel so sorry for me that he’ll go find an easier tourist to mug. As for Bigfoot, I’m not letting him pay for dinner, because the last thing I need is a sasquatch buying me a venison burger and then expecting me to explain how MySpace works. Honestly, my bigger concern is that the wallet will fall apart before I even reach the mountains, and then I’ll be broke and defenseless. But that’s the plan: show up with a two-dollar billfold, a micro tent, and a prayer. If the wolves are smart, they’ll take one look at me and figure there’s not enough meat on these bones to bother with. And if Bigfoot does show up, I’ll just ask him to watch my stuff while I nap. Probably safer than a guard dog.
