Tag Archives: Email

So . . . The Dog Ate Your Email?

"I'm lost and I have important info!"

“I’m lost and I have important info!”

The glint of something oblong and shiny in the bushes caught my eye as I strolled with my dog through a nearby park.  When I bent to check it out, I was surprised to find an egg.  This wasn’t the Homeowners in my neighborhood’s idea of offering a hearty free breakfast for the residents – – No, this was a plastic remnant from an Easter Egg Hunt.  I shook the contents of the pearly pink shell and it rattled.  Hopefully those are Skittles and not M&M’s, I thought, or the insides will be a chocolate mess (we’ve had 100 degree weather since April) but when I pried it open, instead of the jelly beans, my focus became the note.

Ava:  I hope you enjoy this one last sweet treat from a Nana who loves you!

My writer’s mind went to work.   Was Ava getting too old for egg hunts?  Did she develop a serious case of diabetes?  Was Nana terminally ill?  Was this the one and only egg that contained those loving, parting words from a grandmother to her grandchild and I was the wrong person holding it?

Recently I have been both the sender and receiver of many text messages and emails that were never received.  This is a real problem with technology because you don’t realize your words are not being transmitted and you end up feeling ignored or unacknowledged.

Worse, crucial information that would have impacted an important outcome has gone missing and nobody knows it.

Once I drove two hours to pick up a child who cheerfully announced, “Thanks Mom, but I texted you earlier to let you know I already had a ride home.”

I have lost blogging jobs because I never received an email telling me I needed to submit a sample of my writing before a specific deadline.

I have sent an apology and told someone I loved them dearly only to have them proceed as if we were parting ways.  (Granted that would have been better verbalized in person, but you know us gun shy writers.)

Let’s look at how outcomes in history would be altered if certain communications had come across as they were intended.

 

DIDN’T YOU GET THE MEMO???

 

Dear Prince Charming – – I heard you found a high heel slipper at your ball.  That would be mine!  I’m going through some glandular stuff right now, so I might look a little “different” when next we rendezvous.  But rest assured . . .  that’s MY size 6 Jimmy Choo and there’s no need to send some Duke Dude with a foot fetish throughout your land, searching high and low.   See ya at our wedding!

Drizella

ps.  Beware of sooty-faced Gold-Digger girls with petite feet nicknamed Cindy.

 

Garfunkel,

I’m skipping the Scarborough Fair today.  But I’ve been thinking – – Crooning about “The Sound of Silence” makes no sense. Let’s do the piece in sign language.  Also, “Like a Bridge Over Troubled Water”   –  meh, I dunno – – really?   How about “Like a Bathmat Over Soggy Carpet, I will Lay Me Down?”  And finally, that Mrs Robinson chick is one Hot Mama!  I say we draw guitar picks to see who’s gonna be “Feelin’ Groovy” with her tonight!

Simon

 

photo-374My Darling Barbie – – As much as I love your va-va voom measurements, maybe we should give all the females in this country a break. You should probably start eating.  Outback Steakhouse at 7 pm?

Ken

 

Sonny,

Pick up a Barbie for Chastity on your way home from skiing today.  I’m thinking our daughter should be playing with dolls a little more.

Cher

 

Siskel~

We better give “Terms Of Endearment” two thumbs up.  I’ve heard that Karma can be a real bitch.

Ebert

 

Okay Peter,

Will you just grow up already?  And stop with the Flying Fad.  United Airlines offers round-trips for less than the cost of a Pirate’s Booty.  Besides, we could partner up and have a great career in Peanut Butter.  I promise to split the profits fairy fairly.

Tinkerbell

 

Shalom Dr. Seuss:

It has come to our attention you are planning on publishing a book that might mislead quite a number of children down the wrong path with its title and subject matter.  We respectfully ask you to consider “Green Eggs and Brisket” instead.

National Council of Jewish Mothers

 

Hey Abbott~

I am so over talking about baseball ad nauseam.  Let’s go bowling tonight instead.  How does that strike you?

Finally, "Hu" IS on first!

Finally, “Hu” really IS on first!

Costello

 

To Dorothy (and your little dog ToTo too!)

I don’t mean you any harm.  I’m really a Goth clothing designer and the Ruby shoes are just what I need for this new black gown I’m manufacturing.  The message in the sky was not supposed to say “Surrender Dorothy!” it was supposed to read, “Suspender Dorothy!”   My little fashion tip to you (with all that blue gingham you’ve got going on!)  Sheesh, where is the Giant Etch-a Sketch when you need to fix a Cloud Typo?  See you on Broadway in Wicked!

What a world!

Elphaba

 

Siegfried,

Just watched a Wizard of Oz rerun – – “Lions and TIGERS and bears….Oh My God!”

Roy

 

Adam & Eve,

Forgot to mention that Apples are now on the Dirty Dozen List of produce and should only be eaten if they are certified USDA Organic or with the skin peeled.  To be safe, I’d pass on all of ’em.   And talking Serpents?  In what whose Universe??

Your One & Only,

God

 

Our Beloved Snow White,

We have a feeling you need to study your bible more, particularly looking into the Adam and Eve skit referenced above.  An Apple is always a metaphor for something bad.  We’re working late in the mine tonight and don’t plan on building any glass coffins to stand watch over a maiden, no matter how pale her skin – – So don’t wait up for us.  Sleep well.

The Seven Dwarfs

 

This Easter Egg didn't have my name on it...

This Easter Egg didn’t have my name on it…

Oh, and it was with great sentimentality that I posted a “Lost & Found” notice on our neighborhood bulletin board to see if I could return the wayward Easter Egg to the poor little ill-fated Ava or her affectionate (but not long for this world) Nana.  I left my cell number so they could message me.

This morning an acne-faced teenage girl showed up on my doorstep making sure I knew I could eat all those Jelly Beans myself.   It was too late for her.  She has a full set of braces now.

I never got that text.

How has a lost email/text or missed voicemail messed up your life?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

What Would the Hackers Say??

photo-169Yahoo recently issued a warning for all us users to change our passwords due to compromised email accounts by Hackers. There’s just one problem. I forgot my password three months ago and the answer to my security question as well.  (Too many people knew that my childhood dog was called Ginger (big Gilligan’s Island fan) so I decided to be tricky and pick one of my favorite authors instead of a canine name. But now I’ve got brain-fog (Menopausal symptom #11, google it) over which writer I picked way back then.  I’ve already tried Hemingway and Fitzgerald.

Turns out you cannot change your password to something new unless you know the old one.   So the good news is, all I need to do is 1) CounterHack into my own account when the hacker is looking the other way or going to the bathroom 2) get my old password back 3) Reset it to keep him out for good.  Viola!

As you can tell by this post so far, I’m a “Hack Writer” so I think it’s rather fitting that I be one of the first people getting Hacked. However, If I’m not successful at a “Hackback,” (which is kinda like a Pingback?)  it’s because I don’t drive a hatchback and I never had a knack for Hackeysack, which is clearly a drawback, so just cut me some slack.  Having said all that, (and not very easily, mind you!) perhaps I can persuade my Professional Hacker to answer a few questions about my emails instead?  So Mr. Hacker,  if you’re reading this – – I just need to satisfy my curiosity before you lock me out of my account forever.

C’mon just tell me this much – – while you were poking around inside my Inbox, did you happen to notice if my novel got an acceptance letter from an agent?  Or if my old boyfriend ever got back to me about meeting for coffee to see if we could rekindle something? Man, this dog/author name thing is gonna drive me crazy.  Was it John Grisham? Anne Rice?   Dr. Seuss?

To be honest, I’m feeling highly embarrassed (and violated) thinking of hackers inside my personal email.  (you can glimpse some of my email here   My mother always taught me to wear the proverbial nice underwear in case of a car accident (imagine my mortification when I went into Victoria’s Secret as an adult, asking to see something lacy in their “Paramedic Panty” Line) and I was also raised to keep my room tidy or goodness knows, what would the robbers  say?  And I always made sure my diary was grammatically correct in case it fell into the hands of a snoopy English teacher. So you can’t really fault me for being worried about what the hackers would say? Wow! It’s on the tip of my brain….Was it Danielle Steel? Tom Clancy?

I imagine hacking is lonely work so they must do it in pairs.  I’d like you to meet, “Mr and Mrs. Hacker.”  Let’s listen in, shall we?

Mr Hacker – – Will you get out of her Nordstrom’s account and her high school reunion emails already?  We have a job to do – –  let’s just get in, get out, and get on with the identity theft. (rubs hands together)

Mrs. Hacker – – Shame. She never did lose those last 5 pounds to fit into this killer red dress. I don’t think I want to take on her name if I have to use  her height and weight on my driver’s license too.

Mr. Hacker – – Focus Harriet, Focus.

Mrs. Hacker (pouting)- – We never go out anymore.  Day in and day out, it’s just hack, hack, hack.  Hacking my life away.  I shoulda listened to my mother and married the Virus Creator Guy.  At least then I could have put my romantic flair to good use writing that “I Love You” attachment that messed everyone’s hard drive up.

Mr. Hacker – – Stop giving me  flack over this hack and stay on track.

Mrs. Hacker – – Honey,  you know I always have your back.

Mr. Hacker – – Then don’t be such a yakker, put down that graham cracker, and get to work,  you Slacker Hacker!

A Hacker Snacker!

A Hacker Snacker!

Mrs. Hacker – – Oh look, her Visa bill shows weekly therapy and massages. That’s the life.

Mr. Hacker – –  Wow, Six kids?  What was she thinking? No wonder she needs therapy and massage.  And who has a childhood dog named Stephen King?

Mrs. Hacker – This is one bizarre chick. I just went to sabotage her Facebook account but all she does is post about the weather.

Mr. Hacker – – Yeah, and look at her WordPress blog.  I thought we might have a little fun messing up her settings and putting up some ugly headers, but she’s done a great job  of that all on her own. Look at that hideous purple feather thing.  Geeze.

Mrs. Hacker – – Look, she’s got 85 photos of the same parakeet, she’s planning her own surprise birthday party on Evite , even rsvp-ing to herself, and her bucket list has “Get Freshly Pressed” listed at the top of it.

Mr. Hacker –  A Dry Cleaning/Ironing  obsession?   Dang, these Yahoo Users get weirder every day.  Next thing you know, we’ll come across a rough draft for a story about a married Hacker couple.  From now on we stick with Google subscribers.  C’mon Harriet, let’s get the “hack” outa here.

Footnote:  I finally changed  passwords  on my “Mac.”  Had to “rack” my brain, but now I guard it safely in my “backpack.” I won’t divulge it, but let’s just say no “Quack” should be able to “Hack” me again.  I’m tired and gonna hit the “Sack.”  😉  But please scroll down to Comments and leave me your best “comeback!”

Never let a Big Mac Attack sidetrack a good Hack.

Never let a Big Mac Attack sidetrack a good Hack.

http://dailypost.wordpress.com/2014/02/02/daily-prompt-groupthink/

I’ve Dropped So Many Eaves – – I Need an Entire New Roof!

photo-141
I know, I know…Awful Title. But “Confessions of an Eavesdropper” seems to be way overdone. And I feel the need to come clean, (maybe purge some guilt?) about my past transgressions before a certain consequential birthday hits me in March.

“Hello. My name is ‘Little Miss Menopause’ and I’m a Snoopaholic.” (No, I am not obsessed with Charlie Brown’s dog.) Unfortunately, I have listened in on so many phone calls, read so many diaries, pressed my ear to so many walls, and glimpsed so many text messages that even a 12 step program cannot help me now. Besides I’d probably just spy on my “Higher Power.”

Next Stop…Eavesdrop!

I believe this obsession started unintentionally, dare I say even innocently? Back when landline phones adorned every kitchen wall, and those phones had other attached phones connected to the same line (called “Extensions” for you youngsters) in faraway upstairs bedrooms – – where eavesdropping could easily happen quite accidentally. Well let’s just say if you were ten years old, listened to a certain radio station where you simply HAD to be the sixth caller when the DJ played a sound-clip of The Fonz grunting, “Heeeeyyyyyy” (so you could win tickets to the County Fair) you might suddenly snatch up the receiver and . . .and…. instead of finding out you’re going to the fair, find out your older sister is actually HAVING an affair.

“What was that? Did you just hear a click like someone picked up the other line? We better hang up now, just in case. I love you, Alan…”

Of course there was only one thing for me to do the next day….

And the miniature key was right in the little padlock!

“Dear Diary,

Today Alan kissed me and then confessed to being a married man. This is so Marsha Brady/Dr. Dentist-like! (Oh God! I had just watched that Brady Bunch episode with her last week!) He gave me a locket and told me to wear it under my blouse and never show it to anyone. But today I noticed my ten-year-old sister staring at the chain. (I had been staring at her boobs, wondering about my own.) She is so obnoxious. And fat too. Gotta go study, Diary… (Nooo! Right at the best part?) college finals are a bitch.

It’s Not Always About You. (Yes It Is!)

Wait, forget the affair. So now I was fat?? This was news to me. Obnoxious I knew, but how many pounds did I need to lose? That was the day I learned something very important. You never really know what others truly think about you unless you eavesdrop.

I’m not trying to justify my actions, but don’t most people do this sort of thing to dig up dirt on others? From that moment on, I just wanted to find out the truth about MYSELF. Make sure I was living in the real world. I was dying to know what else was being kept from me.

The next day I played at a neighbor’s house (twin girls a year older than me) and decided to try a little experiment. In the middle of playing Barbies, (nobody ever calls Barbie “fat” behind her back!) I excused myself on the pretense of needing to use the bathroom. I made sure my footsteps could be heard stomping down the hall, then silently tiptoed back to listen through their bedroom door.

“She smells like tuna.”
“I know. And she always wears her hair in that stupid fat braid.” Great, now my hair was chubby too.
“Let’s tell her we have a piano lesson and can’t play anymore.”

They should just have an “Evil Twin” lesson and call it a day.

Sheesh, this was a terrific week for my self-esteem. But now I was completely hooked.

I Was All Ears Thru The Years!

As the years passed, I fine-tuned my nosiness. When I was dating my soon-to-be fiance, we went to a party at his brother’s house so he could introduce me to some of his buddies and even his parents were invited. I was nervous but as the evening wore on, I seized the moment on their couch to sort of “drift-off.” Uh huh. I had a glass of wine. Hey, it could happen! And I was a good actress, earning high marks in Fake Sleeping 101.

“So….what do you think of her?”

Yes…JACKPOT!!!

“She’s pretty nice. I’d say she’s a slight improvement over Vanessa.” Vanessa? Who the hell was Vanessa? Don’t blink, don’t blink.

“But does she always wear her hair like Farrah Fawcett?” Man, I can’t seem to win in the hair department!

“Well Michael, I’ll say this – – If you’re really gonna propose to this one, make sure she knows I get Thanksgiving and New Year’s. Her side of the family can do Groundhogs Day and Washington’s birthday. Oh and I get Christmas Eve too.” A control freak future mother-in-law?

“Ma, she’s Jewish.”

“Really? But she doesn’t have the big nose.” An ignorant, anti-semitic, control freak future mother-in-law. No thanks.

After that, I got much more daring with my “detective skills.” Once in my thirties, after a horrible fight with my married sister, I got the idea to telephone her home but then not say a word when she answered. I figured maybe I’d get to overhear her using some choice words about me to her husband. How could it hurt?

She answered on the third ring, sounding like she’d been crying. Wow, I guess our fight upset her more than I realized.

“Hello? Is anyone there? Hello?! I can hear you breathing. Bitch.”

Silence. What juicy tidbit would I find out about me now? Maybe they think I’m a horrible cook, my kids are brats…or…

“Alan, why don’t you tell your Mistress to stop calling our home at night before the children are in bed.”

Silence. Wow. Talk about full circle. I sadly hung up.

Snoopology Technology!

But then came email. And text messaging. And Facebook. A veritable SnoopFest Smorgasbord.

In fact, it’s thanks to an unprotected password on my sister’s cell phone that last week I saw an entire text conversation about my big upcoming birthday that I mentioned above. (Okay, okay….I’m going to be fifty soon, blech.) And there’s going to be a surprise party. Or there would have been a surprise party. But now I know everything. Maybe I can pretend?

You’ll be happy to know that today I finally got my comeuppance. Unbeknownst to me, as I sat in the beauty salon, (I must’ve jostled my sweater pocket) my cell phone somehow stealthily dialed my sister. And can you believe she listened spellbound to my entire conversation with the manicurist, even overhearing me describe which dress I would be wearing to my own surprise party? And now, well now my birthday has been cancelled.

My name is Little Miss Menopause and I’m a Snoopaholic. Thank you.

PS. If I leave this blog right now, are you going to talk about me in the comments section??

PPS. Yeah, my hairstyle is still stuck in the 70’s.