from russia, with love

I am being accosted by Russian brides.

Not directly. As in, they are not currently banging at the door. But they have infiltrated my inbox, and they won't leave.

Somehow my company missed the boat on spam protection, because we get everything. For a few weeks, it's Canadian prescriptions. My boss was bombarded with gold watches. Then I got big black beauties. Followed by Viagra at 80% off. And now, Russian brides.

Today I got back from lunch to find this subject line:


Um....no? Sweet Kitty keeps his distance from all pussy. Pretty sure I'd remember one with communist tendencies and poor grammar.

What kills me is that these people actually make money. Schemes only last as long as they're profitable, so someone out there is shelling out $3.95 a minute for god-knows-what, but I'm betting it involves Anastasia and a bottle of vodka.

Continuing the theme of societal hemorrhoids....the cast of Jersey Shore. I hate even bringing them up, but yesterday I got my W-2 in the mail, the annual reminder of just how much Uncle Sam enjoys anally pile-driving the working man. After I sobbed into my pillow (not really) and poured a stiff one (really), I got online to find out that those goons back east are going to make 10K an episode for a twelve episode season. Six figures, just to act inbred on television for a few weeks.

My figures start with a "3" and end shortly thereafter with a "go fuck yourself, poor person." Commence face-stabbing.

Online whores, media whores, and yet I feel like the dumbest whore of all. I try to be proper and corporate, with my business card and my labeled files and my secure vanilla existence; meanwhile the freak shows on the fringe laugh all the way to the bank.

I'm not saying I'm going to go wax my downstairs and buy a webcam. But a better balance of money and happiness? Finding that would definitely warrant a fist-pump.


1 comment:

  1. I agree with everything... except for the Viagra thing. 80% off is a good fucking deal!