My mother, usually pretty savvy to a scam, responded to a phishing e-mail from somoene pretending to be her ISP. She bailed when she was asked for a PIN, but she'd already given her credit card number and e-mail password.

She mentioned this to me very casually during a phone call this afternoon, not even realizing what she'd done. "Don't you think it's weird that EarthLink asked for my PIN?" she asked.

So, I told her that she's been scammed. Now she's freaking.

I wondered how long it would be before she did something like this.

Some neighbors are having Cinco de Mayo party, even though it's already the Siete de Mayo. (¿Feeling a bit tarde, señor?)

It sounds less like a Cinco de Mayo party and more like a scene from The Accused. I'm ready for someone to yell, "Go, sexy Sadie," any minute now.

I've been sitting here drinking coffee, reading my Friends page, and dunking chocolate graham crackers in my coffee. Grahams apparently absorb coffee very quickly, because if I don't withdraw the cracker from the coffee after half a second, the dunked half breaks off and sinks to the bottom of the cup. Now that I'm at the bottom of the cup, I see a muddy graham looking like a turd. It's a major turn-off, I must say. It's making me not want any more coffee -- or grahams.

What a crazy insane week this has been. I'm doing my best to do as little as possible over the weekend, although seeing my mother for Mother's Day tomorrow will require sitting in lots of traffic. She's worth it, though. She had to push really hard to pass me through Precious Canal thirty-something years ago; traffic is the least of it.

I was thinking of posting some pictures of my leprosy-lookin' neck, but then I decided that would be even grosser than pictures of the bottom of my coffee mug right now.

This is so awesome. understandish, I think you might like it the most of all.

After work, I went with my boss to look at a new office space. Our lease is up, and the neighborhood has redeveloped so much, the rent will be exorbitant and not worth it. Since we're looking for space, my boss decided it was time we had a space that better reflects what people would expect from a creative company. To him, this means exposed brick walls, open ceilings and wood floors. Basically, he wants Elliot and Michael's office in Thirtysomething.

Well, the place we saw tonight was so awesome, I can hardly believe it. It's what my boss wanted, but here's the coolest part: a freight elevator will take visitors directly to our office. When the freight door opens, you'll be in our space. We wandered around for a while, trying to figure out where we'd set up the offices, the conference room and what-have-you.

We'd taken the stairs up, but then my boss decided we should take the elevator down. Once we were inside and he pulled the door shut, the elevator didn't move. He said, "Do you have your cell phone in case we're stuck in here? I never used one of these elevators before ... "

"You're fucking kidding, right?"

"No."

After a while, we figured out that two sets of doors had to be closed before the elevator moved. Then while the elevator was moving, I kept thinking of the scene where Glenn Close blows Michael Douglas in the freight elevator of her apartment building in Fatal Attraction. I don't mean I was harboring thoughts about re-enacting it; I was just thinking about that particular scene.

Then I started thinking about the scene in Flashdance where that guy takes Jennifer Beals on a date to an abandoned warehouse and that horrid "Lady, Lady, Lady" song starts playing.

So, yeah, anyway, I'd love it if we took this new space. It's got the freight elevator AND it's closer to home. We have to see about what kind of build-out they will do, though. The raw space is great but we do need some offices. I don't need everyone hearing my answers to things like Paul asking me, "What do you want for dinner?"

Or "What are you wearing?"

WTF! What do you suppose their reaction would have been if Laura had actually succeeded in her attempts to be funny?

To make their house more saleable, my parents have decided to take some of the wall-coverings down. My mother just phoned to say that she has begun work on my old bedroom, and beneath the wallpaper she found all four walls were covered with an enormous Pac Man board that I painted on just before the wallpaper went up. I drew the cherries and everything.

My jeans aren't tight or anything, but I think I'm looking a bit too testicular. It's because I'm wearing boxers, and usually, I only do that for sleep. I don't know what made me put them on this morning, but I now know I need to pay more attention when I'm getting dressed.

The Ice Storm is on. It's one of those films that, if it's on, I have to watch. It's mesmerizing. It was also filmed a few minutes away from here. (beeftenderloin, we had dinner across the street from the drugstore where Joan Allen shoplifts.) The fucked-uppedness of Elijah Wood dry-humping Christina Ricci while she's wearing a huge Richard Nixon mask ... What's not to love?

In other news, it's thundering outside. It's been so long since I heard that sound, I'm actually enjoying it.

Gardening in front of the house this afternoon, Paul was visited by a neighbor from a few doors down. We're friendly with her -- not friends, per se, but friendly. She makes small talk with us when we're outside, and she's usually very sweet. Her little boy likes to come over and talk to us sometimes, too.

She and Paul got to talking about the people from whom we bought this house, and she told Paul that her husband, a landscaper, had just seen the former owners at their new home. (They moved only a few blocks from here.)

"He gave them a great estimate," she told Paul, "but they said it was too expensive. Meanwhile, they have a huge yard and it's a lot of work. You know, it figures -- those Jews."

I guess my lack of a hook nose, combined with the fact that my horns were sanded down shortly after I was born, threw her off.

Paul didn't know how to respond, but this definitely turned him off. He's not sure what to say to her, if anything. I'm not sure, either. I don't want to do something to make things "un-neighborly," but I guess she's already done that without realizing it.

Advice? Opinions? Please?

I am on the phone with Verizon technical support right now, and I swear Fred Schneider is helping me troubleshoot. The guy's gay, nasal southern drawl is out of control.

I have begun a course of Efudex. Basically, it's going to make me look pretty fucking bad for about a month, but then I will go back to "normal." All I can say is, thank god I don't have to cover my whole face with it -- just two patches.

It's going to keep precancerous cells from multiplying and, in the process, turn the treated areas a scabby reddish and purple mess. I don't think I'm so vain (though I probably this post is about me, don't I?) but already the redness is starting and I hate it. I hate skin cancer more, but still, this sucks.

My sister and I go ask each other all the time: What were our parents thinking? We got blistering sunburns every fucking summer, then they're both surprised we have skin cancer?

Not that I thought Network Solutions was the end-all, but I must admit, I'm shocked. My e-mail and hosting have been down for 24 hours now, and you'd think NetSol would have enough backup systems in place to prevent this.

(Ignore me. I know this is not the kind of stuff you have a Friends page for.)

Date:	2005-04-13 21:02
Subject:	This poll dedicated to babytuna
Security:	Public
Mood:	anything on the bone
Music:	chicken thighs

Poll #474385 Eat it
Open to: All, results viewable to: All

A friend invites you to dinner at his or her home. The main course? Something that makes you gag. What do you do?

If you answered "Something else," what would that be?

Separated at birth:



Camilla on her wedding day ...




... and the cover of Peter Gabriel's "Ovo"

You know what I really hate?



Power shirts.

I just saw someone wearing a power shirt when I stepped out for lunch. I hate to judge a book by its cover, but I don't think I've ever liked anyone who wore a power shirt.

It's like in the '80s and early '90s when women wore business suits with a bow on the blouse. My mother told me when i was first interviewing for jobs, "Any woman who wears that is a bitch."

And I think she was right.

Last night I dreamed that I was having lunch in a cafeteria full of flight attendants, mostly the ones who work on the flights to the Middle East -- more formally dressed, with lots of scarves and little hats. I have no idea what that's all about.

My new monitor arrived yesterday. I'm finally in the '90s, I guess, because it's my first LCD monitor (unless you count the ones I've used for work). It feels so indulgent to have a 19" LCD after working on a 14" CRT for so long. Actually, I can't believe I waited this long. I've had a G5 for over a year, and I've had the shitty 14" monitor hooked up to it. It's like having a Land Rover with burlap seats.

Not that I have extra money to burn, but I feel like I'm on a spending spree. First there's the monitor (although I think it's justified because I was seriously straining my eyes with the small one), and tomorrow, my car is spending the day getting outfitted with XM radio, an alarm, and a remote starter. The old car had these things, and I've gone almost two months in the new car without them. It's time. Fortunately, I have some freelance money coming my way to pay for all of this, but I may have to float it for a while.

My parents' 50th wedding anniversary is this summer, which, no matter what Paul, my sister and I decide to do, is going to be a big expense. We're either sending the two of them on a trip, or we're going on a trip with them. For their 45th, we sent them to Vegas, which they enjoyed, but when they got back, they said, "The only thing that would have made it better was to have all of you there, too." And they are dropping hints that this time, we all should be involved in whatever it is. The only difference now is that I didn't have a car payment and a mortgage back then. Oh, well. I will figure something out.

Martinis "on a school night" = very, very bad idea. My eyes are like pinholes, and my stomach, don't even ask.

Seven-and-a-half hours to go ...

I forgot to post about this yesterday.

My right hand had been hurting for a couple of weeks, and I could hardly even tie my shoes without it being an issue. So, finally, I had the doctor look at it.

Fortunately it's not carpal tunnel or arthritis (though, oddly, babytuna has the same symptoms, so we figured it was our heavy PC usage or something). It's just a bad sprain, but for the next few weeks, I have to wear a brace that covers most of my hand and extends to my forearm.

Only 24 hours into wearing this thing, I'm losing my mind. Even something as simple as grocery shopping -- pushing the cart, going through coupons, getting money and the shopper card from my wallet -- is a huge pain in the ass!

At least the brace is black. My hand and forearm look so slim now!