I see a lot of these ads come out of the beautiful town of Flossmoor, wherever on Planet Earth that might be. They must know something we don’t, you guys. They seem to have all the answers!

My main question on this one is:
What exactly is the job she’s doing at home? If I click on the link, will it take me to the fololowing job posting?

Wanted: Administrative Assistant for Busy Office
Ideal candidate should have:
3-5 years’ experience in administrative position
Ability to juggle multiple tasks in a fast-paced environment
Bachelor’s Degree in Communications or related field
Experience wearing blue face paint a must
Ability to hold fish in teeth preferred
Telecommuting OK

Citizens of Flossmoor, I’m directing this question to you.

My combination favorite / least favorite ads are the ones that claim that a “mom” discovered some miracle cure or loophole in the system. Why is the fact that a mom discovered it supposed make it so much more appealing? Like Betty Johnson in Somewheresville, USA, is going to all of a sudden do a double take at her computer screen and go, “DALE, GET IN HERE. It says a MOM discovered this weird old trick that is going to make my teeth 10 shades lighter while also putting money in my pocket and infuriating my dentist. And I know I can trust her, because I’m a mom, too! Never mind that I know nothing about this particular mom or if she knows anything about dentistry, or even how to tie her shoes, for that matter. She’s a MOM, Dale. A MOM!!! I’M CLICKING THE AD!!!”

Another question I have is: Why is it always a weird old trick? Do people think it’s more legit if it’s old? and weird? Because I know of some weird old tricks that I wouldn’t touch with a ten-foot pole. (Don’t come near me with those leeches, please!) Science has come a long way, and if given the option between a “weird old trick” and “modern science,” I think I know which one I’ll choose.

I’m going to leave you with a trick from a mom in Lyndhurst (wherever the hell that is; are we supposed to know where Lyndhurst is, or is it a generic town name that anyone in an English-speaking country can realte to: “OH, yeah, someone from Lyndhurst, Dale. WE’VE HEARD OF THAT TOWN! I’M CLICKING THE AD!”)

So this mom discovered this clever wrinkle therapy that makes botox doctors furious (and are there really such things as “botox doctors”? That’s very specific).

I clicked on the ad to find out what the trick was, and as it turns out, she stopped doing meth.

That is a clever trick!

Wednesday?

Ah, man, it’s good to hear from my old friend Numbers P. Burrell. I haven’t seen Numbers in a while — his wife just had a baby. If you don’t know him, I should totally introduce you — You’ll love him. That’s actually a picture of him above. He sure does love those sandwiches. Ah, Numbers. We’ll have to catch up soon.

Wow, Judith, that’s pretty harsh. I admit I tried a new mayonnaise brand recently, but it was pretty terrible and I switched back to Best Foods. I mean, I understand about brand loyalty and all that, but war criminal? Think about what you’re saying.

Uh… yeah, Arrogant, um, sure. AJAX. Right up there with advanced computer systems, satellites, and space stations.
I’m gonna go out on a limb here and suggest that one of those shortcomings you talk about is that AJAX is, well… NOT a powerful new technology. With all this considered, I’m not sure what exactly you have to be arrogant about.

Thanks for the enthusiastic offer and for giving me your digits, Brendan, but getting a diploma from a university that can’t spell may be more of a “hassel” than you think.

Bring it on, es9s. Bring it on.

Update: I’ve been told that Ajax is a computer thing and actually is a powerful new technology, and not just something with which to clean your sink.  Well, fine, but it’s funnier if you don’t know that.

Wow, Christine, what is a feathery bootleg? Is it like a bootlegged CD? And what are the feathers for? Wait, no, you know what? Don’t even tell me; just send me one. Whatever is is, I want it.

Nope, sorry, Nettie, it’s still Wednesday. Hang in there.

No thanks, Wilda, I’m fine as a member of the middle class. OK, OK, I know, there really is no middle class anymore, especially not in L.A. I heard all about it on NPR. But poverty? Nah, you can do it if you want to, but it’s just not my bag. What? Oh, I said, “not my bag.” It’s an expression from the ’70s, I think. It means it’s really just not my thing. No, I don’t know where it came from… you know what, Wilda? I just don’t want to do poverty, OK? Why would I if I don’t have to? I work hard for my money! Geez, get off my back.

And NO, Ruairi, didn’t you hear me tell Nettie?! Calm down and be patient! It’s 6:44; we get to leave work in 16 minutes, then we’ve just got Thursday and Friday. I don’t know what you’ve got your knickers in a bunch for. Just settle right on down! Sheesh!!!!

Friday! BTW, I found that picture on Google images. Isn’t it great? Click on the thumbnail for the full effect. But anyway, on to business. I’ve gotten a lot of amazing email since the last Spam Friday. Let’s discuss:

First, David Sanders needs to learn how to pronounce his R’s. He’s trying to warn me about a catastrophe, but I can’t stop laughing at his accent long enough to pay attention. I mean, who can take that seriously? I’m not trying to be mean, but David, if you’re reading this, you might want to consider taking a speech class.

Now this one really caught my attention: Jeffrey will be paralized with atomic generators? Who wrote this? Someone from the future? Are they talking about the Jeffrey we know and love? I seriously hope not. I mean, how do they know that? And what are these atomic generators of which they speak? I’d sure like some more info. on that. Do you think this could be the catastwophe David was trying to warn me about? I’m sorry, I’m giggling again. Sorry David. I just can’t help it. Seriously, man, take a speech class.

No, Earl, it’s dead people. You see dead people.

I guess there’s a new store in town called ITEMS OF INTEREST City. It kind of reminds me of a big discount store that used to be in Asheville called Sky City. And I can’t think of Sky City without remembering the awful evening in 6th grade when my mom and I were in Sky City buying me my first ever bras, and we ran into my 6th grade teacher, Mrs. Harter. Now looking back, I’m 100% sure Mrs. Harter probably didn’t even notice or care about the AA-cup white cotton bra with a rainbow stripe around the bottom that my mom was waving around while they were talking, but at the time, I had never felt so embarrassed in all of my twelve years of existence. Except maybe the year before in 5th grade when we were playing kickball in P.E. and I was on the outfield team guarding 3rd base, but I spaced out, as I am prone to do, and forgot which team I was on, and when someone kicked the ball I ran home. But that’s another story for another time. Or maybe I just told you the whole story anyway. But anyway, my point is, ITEMS OF INTEREST City might be pretty cool, or it might be pretty lame. Because my items of interest could be different from your items of interest, you know? If it were called “Marcy’s ITEMS OF INTEREST City” it would be totally awesome. It would stock lots and lots of cute clothes, shoes, books, Harry Potter merchandise including invisibility cloaks, bikes, tap shoes and dance wear just in case I start doing that again, plays and screenplays, DVDs of all my favorite TV shows and movies, tasty healthy hot food, ice cream, beach towels, an arts & crafts section, and a mini Ikea wing. Oh, and lots of cute, friendly, happy, healthy puppies, and various other cute furry things. Of course.

Anyway, back on topic. Dona Shafer wants me to go compromise, and to that I say, “Pooh Pooh!” and thumb my nose. I mean, don’t get me wrong; compromise is good in many instances, but I’m not about to compromise my dreams and goals, as I think she is suggesting, because frankly I don’t trust her motives. I’ll just leave it at that.

Roderick Herring is referring to himself as a jockstrap dignitary, and isn’t that just like him? He’s all, “Hey, I’m a dignitary, and I’m wearing a jockstrap.” Oh, Roderick.

Katrine Salas wants to sell me a claustrophobia fiddle. I called her and asked her to expound on what exactly that does, and she said you carry it wherever you go, and whenever you start feeling claustrophobic you start playing it and it makes you feel better. I asked her if any old fiddle would do the same thing, and she said no, this one is special, but she wouldn’t tell me why. I think it might be a rip-off, but I’m still trying to research it, because if it is a special fiddle I know some claustrophobic people who might really benefit from it. I don’t think I’ll be stocking any claustrophobia fiddles in Marcy’s ITEMS OF INTEREST City, though.

Finally, Gwendolyn Ayala has created a music compilation for her stepmother. She shared it with me because I DON’T KNOW WHY. Gwen and I aren’t really even good friends, but whatever. Maybe she copied me on the email by mistake. I will tell you that Gwendolyn’s stepmother must really like Celine Dionne, that’s all I’m saying.

Happy Friday, Peeps!

Friday!

I just want us all to start the weekend by looking at this:

And asking ourselves, What if these were our real friends’ names??? Life would be such a funnier place. Like what if I was having a party, and these are all the people I invited? This was my guest list? You’d be like, “Who are you inviting to your party?” And I’d go, “Oh, Cassidy, Walenty, Neddie, Janet, Verena, Nestore, and you.” OH, man.

OR what if this were the guest list for a wedding? I’d be like, “OK, for the seating chart, I think Walenty Wark and Nestore Bockleman should be at separate tables. They’ve both dated Cassidy Clement — but then again, who hasn’t hooked up with that floozy? And Ugh, I can’t believe Janet Manners hasn’t R.S.V.P.d yet. SO rude!

OR, What if these were our high school teachers? We’d be all, “OMG, Mr. Wark gave us soooooooo much homework tonight!”
“What! That’s nothing. You should see the project Mrs. Mullett assigned.”
“UGH, Stop whining, you guys. You guys’ve got it good. Ms. Manners gave us like the longest report ever, and you don’t even WANT to know about the pop quiz Mr. Bockleman gave today.”

Happy Friday, y’all! Oh, if you see Neddie tonight, tell him I’ll give him a call about lunch tomorrow.

One, I want to point out that in the future, time travel is apparently possible and used often. I say this because several people have emailed me from the future to approve loans I applied for! What’s great is that even if it takes 32 years to approve my loan, someone from the future can just email me here in the present, so it seems like no time has passed! It’s like the most efficient form of inefficency. Blows your mind, right?!!!

Apparently it is also really easy to get a loan in the year 2038, folks, so that’s good news! Everyone from Cherokee Indians to Carneys to Princes to the religion of Hinduism to aliens with unpronouncible names have approved loans for me! Man, I can’t wait for the future! I sure won’t have to worry about messing with the dumb old bank to get my mortgage loan!

Another exciting tidbit: Martin Ginsburg, husband of the kick-ass Ruth Bader Ginsburg, has emailed me regarding PHmlARMACY, not to be confused with PHARziMACY, PHARseMACY, or Aingeru Hackworth’s PHARgeMACY. I like Aingeru; she’s a Hufflepuff. A little slow on the uptake, if you don’t mind my saying so, but aren’t they all, just a little? Oh, those lovable Hufflepuffs. Primitiva Pigott, on the other hand, is a Slytherin, and a nasty one at that. I don’t know where she gets off emailing me. She hangs around with Millicent Bullstrode and Pansy Parkinson, and knows full well Pansy and I don’t get along. Ugh, that girl’s got some nerve!

In other news, Pen Salazar is thrilled, and an athiest crocodile has somehow gotten my email address.

The only chili she’s selling me is the chills down my spine!

Phew, such a relief. I also applied for loans from Blanket, Teddy Bear, and Fluoride, but haven’t heard from them yet. I’ll keep you posted.

Friday!

You’ll never believe what my friend Cosmo Belknap sent me today: The Dreaded Ho Test! Ugh.

Why does Cosmo think I need a ho test? Is he hinting at something, or is he just sending it along to be friendly, so I can make sure I haven’t accidentally become a ho? Either way, it makes me nervous.

I’m pretty sure I’m not a ho. I mean, I can’t think of anything I’ve done that would classify me as such. I’ve never cheated on Jeff, and my “romantic encounters” are still in the single digits. So… I think I’m in the clear, right?? Or did I do something I forgot about that someone has on camera somewhere? Am I unknowingly on a Girls Gone Wild video that I was so drunk I forgot about? I really don’t think so, but one never knows.

Cosmo, if you’re reading this, what are you trying to say?

I’ll take the test, but I’m going to Hawaii on Sunday to ho it up with Jeff and attend Rachel & the Danimal’s wedding, so I’m waiting until I get back. If I’m a ho, I don’t want to know until after my vacation.

Happy Friday, y’all!