Ah, spammers. You gotta love 'em. The following message was clever enough to fool my spam filter. It's also dumb enough that I'm posting it here:
From: Wayne <firstname.lastname@example.org>
Subject: my dream come true
Date: 29 August 2006 12:38:56 PDT
Reply-To: Wayne <email@example.com>
Hope I am not writing to wrong address. I am nbice, pretty looking
gbirl. I am planning ona visiting your town this month. Can
we meet each other in person? Messabge me back at firstname.lastname@example.org
No thanks, Wayne — I'll pass.
Actually, come to think of it: what does this particular spammer hope to get out of this? Maybe she's hoping to sell me Viagra or Levatra or penis-enlargement pills. There must be something wrong in this country, what with the chronic penis deficit we're running. (And now I've just made this entry a huge bullseye for the comment spammers, who are just as eager to help me increase the size of my member.)
On this day at foldedspace.org
2005 — Moved In In which I finally feel moved in (after being in the house for fifteen months!). In which I photograph bees.
2004 — Peeing Off the Back Porch In which I relish owning a home in which I can pee off the back porch in peace.
2003 — Musical Interlude In which we see the symphony by the river. In which Harrison explains about rainbows. In which I am fond of Eros Ramazzotti.
2002 — pinched nerve in which my shoulder hurts