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December 30, 2005

Merideth's 2nd Reply to Dr Oil

Dr Sule,

Wow! This relationship sounds like it will be more than just fruitful, it sounds positively exciting.
I don't know if you've ever seen Dallas over in Nigeria but this reminds me of the episode where Pamela finds out about Bobby is using family money for an investment and in order to keep her quiet he adds her as his partner, but it turns out he really needs her. I mean, it's almost exactly like us, except we don't need to replace money back in Daddy's account before he finds out.
Perhaps you've seen that episode. I heard that there was even a woman in Transylvania that killed herself after Dallas went off the air. I think it was even a rerun.
It's a very well acted and powerful show and I don't doubt that you may have seen a bit of it.
Though, judging by your picture you are rather young. I wasn't able to see the date on your IDs or I would be able to tell for sure.
It was very thoughtful of you to send your pictures to me. You must have known I was a little hesitant about doing this kind of business with someone I've never met. Let alone seen!
I don't have one of those digital cameras, so I can't get one of me sent to you right away, but I should have one coming soon.
I got Geoff, my only son, to bring some film down to the wal-mart for me and he tells me that they can take and put the film onto the computer for you there. DON"T WORRY! I didn't tell him what it was for. I devised a sneaky little plan. I took a bunch of pictures of him and Donald during christmas and when they weren't looking I snapped a couple shots of my driver's license. I hope that's ok. I don't have a passport.
They've been swarming around me for days and that's why I haven't been able to write back to you for so long. I hope everything is still "going as planned." I really hope so.
My guys have just been bothering me like crazy devouring my sugar cookies. I tell you, Geoff would eat me out of house and home if he still lived at home.
He just moved out recently to live with his girlfriend. He met her through the Internet and that is probably the reason he swears by it. He tells me I can get anything I want through it. And if everything between us works I think I might!

Oh, no! Geoff is coming upstairs. I have to cut this short.
Merideth

Posted by calculatoronfire at 09:56 PM | Comments (1) | TrackBack

December 26, 2005

2nd from the good Doc

I was worried Dr Goobly, or whatever, was never going to write back to me. I figured I might have scared him off with the mention of a "Bank." But as usual, the Nigerian Email Scammer ignores everything to write back again.
This time he even attached a copy of "his passport" when he sent me this message.

Posted by calculatoronfire at 09:39 PM | Comments (2) | TrackBack

December 20, 2005

Nigerian Oil

The other day while drinking beer at Jessica's reading Max told me that she enjoyed reading my correspondence with Cliffon the Nigerian Email Scammer (NES). And that got me thinking. I really miss Clifford, or whatever his name is. I had a lot of fun writing to him.
So, this morning when I got another email from a NES, Dr. Sule Gidado this time, I wrote back. This time as Merideth Zdenka, a computer illiterate retiree with financial problems:

Posted by calculatoronfire at 12:27 PM | Comments (1) | TrackBack

December 18, 2005

Productive Day

Today was a very productive day. I went out and got a couple new pictures for my bathroom wall.

Then after hanging my pictures I was inspired to build a christmas present. So I went out to one of the abandoned house down the block and grabbed some wood.

I must have interrupted something important -- as I was looking around for just the right piece of wood a junkie came around the corner. Seeing me he stopped suddenly and backed up aroudn the corner. He waited there the entire time I looked for the pieces I'd take. And seeing him there I decided to take much longer than necessary just to find out how long he'd wait.
A few seconds after I left I saw him rush in in my absence.

I guess I should have known better, but quite a lot of the wood in the abandoned house was rotten and falling apart so in order to finish my project I had to go back to get some more wood.
By the time I left for my second load it was dark, but as I left the house with my arms loaded with wood I could just make out who it was calling after me. "Hey. Hey, you."
It was the short little junkie that keeps knocking on my door trying to sell me shit. Saturday morning he woke me up by pounding on my door. He wanted to sell me a level. "USA level. That's some good shit. USA. Not from Hong Kong or no shit like that. USA. It's real tough. Real good American shit. It's even got magnets on it. Three of 'em. And this like rope thing. You can put it on your key chain or whatever. Wha' d'ya say? Ten bucks?"
Somehow I found the strength to resist and shooed him away.
Tonight he chased me down with a light. "It's a real nice one. You can use it when you're fixin' your car. Plugs right into your cigarette lighter 'n shit. Wha' d'ya say?"

Posted by calculatoronfire at 10:18 PM | Comments (3) | TrackBack

December 14, 2005

Liquid Diet

I recently bought tickets to go visit my parents for Christmas. I know it's supposed to be a joyous happy time for everyone, but I have a bad feeling about the trip. That bad feeling has nothing to do with the flight, even though the last time I heard about a flight from Baltimore to Chicago it was because the plane skidded off the runway and killed some boy riding past the airport in a car.
No. The passengers were safe. So, it's not that.
It has more to do with that fact that last time I was at my parent's house for Christmas my dad pulled a shotgun on my sister's boyfriend.
And that's before the drama started at their house.
These days my mom is calling me up threatening to move next door to me. "Maybe I could just move into the house next door to you for a while." she says.
Meanwhile, my dad goes on and on about his waist size. "Remember those jeans I bought for you?"
"What jeans?"
"The ones I bought for you."
"What? When?"
"When you were a kid."
"No."
"You don't remember them? The Levi's? 501s with the button fly?"
"Ooohhh. Yeah. I remember them."
"You do?"
"Yeah, sure. They were blue?"
"Those are the ones."
"What about them, dad?"
"What size were they?"
Jesus, Christ "Ummm. Dad. I don't even remember the jeans you're talkign about."
"The blue ones witht he button fly."
Holy shit "Dad, are you drinking again?"
"The dog and I walked down to the liquor store for a second bottle today. She like it becase needed a walk. ... I wore your jeans down there."
"Great. But Are you sure they're mine? I haven't lived there for years."
"These are the ones I bought you. How 'bout that? Your old man fits in your jeans. I'm down to a size 31."
"Wow. You're losing a lot weight."
"I'm on the liquid diet."
"You mean wine?"
"Yeah, pretty much."

Posted by calculatoronfire at 08:48 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack

December 12, 2005

Xmas cards

This year I'm actually going to send christmas cards.

I made them myself.
Santa

Jesus

Posted by calculatoronfire at 08:34 PM | Comments (6) | TrackBack

December 07, 2005

Drinking on the Job

Today I had my last class before finals start. Trying to kill two birds with one stone I handed my students each a can of red bull as they left class. (The birds: 1-being a nice guy 2-boosting my rating on ratemyprofessors.com) Today, as usual, a couple students stayed behind to ask a few questions.
The questions are usually something like, "How do I do this...?", "What if I can't get the homework done on time?", etc. Today the question was, "You wanna see who can shotgun this faster? I bet I can shotgun it faster than you."
"Shotgun it?"
"Yeah, that's where you punch a hole in the can and ..."
"I know what shotgunning is. Trust me. Why shotgun it though?"
"It let's the air in so the stuff comes out faster."
"Yeah. Like I said, I know what shotgunning is. Why not just slam it. It spray everywhere then -- and I'll still beat you."

Whether I won or lost is not the point -- we tied. The point is, after an oversized mug of coffee made by some palsied co-worker of mine that poured about half a can of Chock Full o' Nuts into the coffee maker, slamming a can of red bull was the last thing I needed.
Within minutes I was all jittery. Like the first time I was pulled over for speeding. Like the time I smuggled foreign meat into the country when I was 11. Or, I guess, technically, like the time I took a handful of caffeine pills to "help" me study for a test in high school.

At least it wasn't like the time I had my first cigarette.
I woke up in the middle of the night and saw the window, in the room I shared with my brother, was wideopen. I got out of bed and looked out the window. I saw my brother sitting on the porch roof that lay just outside the window. He was leaning back against the house smoking a cigarette.
"What are you doing?" I asked knowing full well that he was smoking.
"Nothing. Mind your own business."
"You're smoking. I'm telling mom and dad." It was back in the day when I finding out that someone else was doing something wrong warranted a call to mom and dad.
"Wimp." It was also the day when wimp was possibly the worst thing we could think not only to call someone, but to be called. "It's no big deal. You're such a tattler."
"You're not supposed to, though -- mom and dad said."
"So what? Grandpa smokes. These are the same he smokes." It was some filterless cigarette. "Try one. It's cool."
"We're not supposed to." I was innocent once.
"Come on, chicken."
With that I climbed out the window and lit up my first cigarette. It was no big deal at first. I couldn't even bring myself to inhale. I didn't know I wasn't, I just wasn't.
But then I did. I felt a strange sensation in my throat. A tingling that went into my lungs. Then I started getting dizzy. I thought I was going to fall over even though I was already sitting.
Being afraid of falling over while sitting doesn't seem too bad, but when you're up on the roof of your house things look different. I plastered myself up against the side of the house to keep myself from falling.
"What's wrong? You're turning green."
"I feel sick. I think I'm gonna throw up."
"Go over the side."
"I can't; I'll fall."
"Wimp."
"I'm really dizzy."
"So, go to the bathroom."
"I can't move."
My brother figured something really was amiss and helped me slide to the window. I fell backwards through the window and promptly puked on the floor.

Falling down and vomitting on the spot would certainly cost me more 'cred than tying in a drinking contest.

Posted by calculatoronfire at 09:08 PM | Comments (4) | TrackBack