4 minutes ago
Friday, January 15, 2010
Not Everyone is Welcomed
Emails, don't you just love them?
At work I get anywhere between 50 to 100 a day and those are mostly all work related and not all are needed. People at work think that if you have just a sliver of involvement with whatever project they're running, your name gets added as a cc. For instance, if Mary is heading up a project on changing from a 4 pin bobblydink to a 8 pin bobblydink, and if you are any way associated with bobs, bly's or dink's, your name gets added to the distribution list for the two years it's going to take to add four fucking pins onto bob. Get the idea? But that's work and I get paid to do that crap.
Then I have my personal email. This normally is my more fun space to be but something has changed with the "fun" part over the last few months.
It's a guarantee that I get messages from my friends and those could be either real messages or jokes. Either way tells me that person took some time out of their busy life to contact me. Those are my fav emails.
Then I get the shit that I have willingly signed up to get updates. Examples are the monthly or weekly emails from Barnes and Noble, Frys, very important beer establishments, Baja Bettys, etc. When I feel that I'm getting inundated with those type of messages I start cutting them down. Shit, I even get an email from my car every month telling me how many miles I've driven her in the last 30 days and if she needs a lube job. (hmmmm, how could I get something similar on Mrs. Jude?)
All good so far, right? Here's where the stupid asinine crap comes into play.
Why the fuck have I started to get emails from AARP and HOT Single Men in my Area? I really don't need either. Why does someone think I need a free glucose meter or a free trial on some tea that flushes 20 lbs of blubber out of you from some hole and I don't want to know the where or how? WTF is a Woopra? One company is still trying to get me to extend my warranty on a car that I haven't owned in 5 years.
Here's a good one: eDaii Cadastre seu negociao no. pfffffft! say what?
Yesterday, I got an email that my voice mail can now be put into a text message. I still have the "deer in headlights" look on my face because I'm totally confused with why they think I now have a need to fucking read my voice mails??
And the kicker and the biggest fuck you goes to, from power wheelchair kit where they told me to get my freedom back with a power wheelchair by hover-the-ground. Yeah right, so I can go down the side walks doing wheelies and racing against the Turbo Tip Over Man.
Here's a big Jersey salute to the stupid emails. Go somewhere else.