NAME ONE OF EMMY’S (future, as yet unborn) BABIES!
And here to see the spreadsheet
Aside from my main email address, I also have a second email address that consists of my first name and my second name at gmail, and there are Robyn Andersons all OVER the world who are under the impression that my email address is their email address, and they hand out that email address to, it seems, everyone they say hello to, because every so often I get an email address intended for someone who is not me but has my name. For one, someone in Australia let me know that they wouldn’t be attending Joe’s party. Which is probably a good thing, because I didn’t want to plan Joe’s party anyway, GOD.
Last Summer, I had this email exchange (I may have covered this here already, I don’t remember) :
They said: Hi, Robyn. Hey, we did SOME work on the burn pile yesterday (Sunday), but the heat was really beating us down. That, and I believe there’s more work there than meets the eye. We’ve moved some of it to the street, but we really didn’t make much of a dent. Perhaps we can discuss, again, the merits of moving the pile as opposed to burning it down and cleaning it up in the Fall.
What time would it be OK to cash the check today?
Thanks
I said: Dave, since the burn pile in my back field is still where it’s been since a tornado came through here at the end of April, I’m going to assume you’ve got the wrong email address. 🙂
He said: Wow. Sorry about that. How long have you had this e-mail address, because I could swear I used to be able to connect with MY Robyn Anderson at this address. And not everybody has a burn pile. It’s funny that you do, AND you spell your name the same way. 🙂
I said: Well, I’ve had it since 2004. Possibly there’s supposed to be a middle initial in there or something for your Robyn Anderson? I get a lot of emails meant for a lot of different Robyn Andersons, from Australia to Canada to points all over the US. There are more of us than you’d expect, I guess! 🙂
Some lady in Australia emailed to let me know that: Please find attached your service/inspection report. Should you have any queries regarding the attached please don’t hesitate to contact me.
Then yesterday, I got an email from someone with a link to online divorce in Illinois (though the email sender was emailing from Texas) and an email that consisted of There are quite a few of these. I also printed off all the information and forms you will need to proceed with the filing. C ya.
The emails have, at least, dropped off so that I maybe get a couple of them a month, so they’re not SUCH a big pain in the butt (though I did get an email to confirm a dental appointment for a Robyn Anderson elsewhere and I cancelled it OH YES I DID because I was in a bad mood at the moment and GODDAMN, really, you people don’t know your own damn email addresses?), and most of the time if it’s of a personal nature I’ll email the sender back to let them know they have the wrong email address because I’m nice like that.
I have a forwarder on that email address to forward emails to the main address that I use, or I’d only see the emails when it occurred to me to log in and check (which I never do), because at some point I thought it would be a super awesome idea to use that email address (instead of my main email address) to give to stores when I sign up for oh, whatever the fuck they call their special savings cards. You know, the ones you put on your keychain and they scan at checkout and you save like 5 cents per can of cat food or whatever (I have about 15 of those cards on my keychain, and the ONLY one I ever use is the one at Petsmart and it’s a pain in the ass to look through them all to find the Petsmart one, GRRR MY LIFE IS SO HARRRRRRRRRD), only then I forgot I was doing this (I have all these FABULOUS fucking ideas but I am too much an airhead to remember them from one minute to the next) and started giving stores my main email address, and oh. What a fucking mess.
I don’t know why I bothered with setting up the forwarder, though, all I get from that email address are emails I don’t particularly want (why does Jo-Ann Fabrics send me like 300 emails a month when I visit there almost never?), if I turned off the forwarder, I’d never have to see them.
BUT I MIGHT MISS SOMETHING IMPORTANT.
Gah.
Shut up, me.
Long story short (too late!), Illinois Robyn Anderson is getting divorced, I guess. Though I’m not sure why her friend in Texas is being so helpful. I should have asked.
I have to go for a mammogram this morning. I don’t want to, I seriously considered canceling it, but I have other errands that need to be done out in that general direction of Huntsville, and I need to just get it the hell done and over with. This will be my first mammogram where I’ll be sporting boobs that are firm and perky rather than like lemons in tube socks, so I expect that it’ll be pretty uncomfortable.
SO looking forward to it. Fun times!
Some quick TV talk:
Gossip Girl: I wish the writers would stop trying to force this stupid, loathsome COMPLETELY unbelievable story line wherein Blair has a thing for Dan. If Dan Humphries is not the most boring character on all of TV I don’t know who is. He cannot possibly pull off this scruffy artiste look he’s got going on, can’t we write him going over a mountain and dying a painful, permanent death, please?
Revenge: I’m starting to catch up, finally (watching it on my iPod), and I have two things to say: (1) Emily VanCamp (Emily Thorne) is supposed to be badass and threatening and hell-bent on vengeance, but dear, dear girl, you sweet little muffin, you are about as scary as a marauding pack of cotton balls. You make me giggle at the beginning of every show when you lisp about your father dying “an innothent man.” (2) Is there any actress in all of Hollywood more wooden than Madeleine Stowe? I think not. Oh, and bonus (3) Connor Paolo (Declan Whozits)’s fakey Massachusetts accent gets all OVER my nerves. That said, I’m enjoying the show quite a bit.
Speaking of actresses, I read somewhere (in a gossip magazine, so take it with a grain of salt) that Angelina Jolie refuses to even acknowledge the existence of George Clooney’s current girlfriend (Stacey something?), and that it doesn’t matter to George Clooney because he finds Angelina Jolie a pain in the ass and doesn’t care what she thinks. The idea that Angelina Jolie might be a pain in the ass does not surprise me one teeny tiny little bit.
Everett has gone off to Petsmart, hopefully to be adopted so fast it makes our heads spin. He howled and howled and howllllllled all the way there, and then when I put him in the cage with Lucy, he hissed at her, hissed at me, and hissed at the employee walking by on the other side of the glass.
Drama queen.
Lucy was okay; when I walked in, she meowed and ran over to the door of her cage and slithered through when I opened it to put Everett inside. She purred when I picked her up and nuzzled her behind the ear, and she was okay with going back into the cage.
Sally, on the other hand, was sitting in front of her litter box (basically, as far from the door of her cage as she could get), and wouldn’t come to me no matter how much I sweet-talked her. I finally had to take the litter box out to reach her, and then I petted her and scratched her under the chin and she purred for me, but wouldn’t come over to me, so I didn’t push it.
I worry about her – I really thought that being in a cage by herself would bring her out of her shell, but it doesn’t appear to be doing that. I hope that she calms down and relaxes a little – I hate the thought of her being there, unadopted. You can’t really blame people for not wanting to adopt a cat who won’t show the slightest bit of affection. I did put a note on her description saying that she’s scared in new situations and once she warms up she’s a total sweetheart. Hopefully someone will come along who’s willing to give her a chance.
I’d love to make her a permanent resident – I’d love to make all three of them permanent residents, really – but I’m not kidding when I say that we’re over capacity on the permanent residents. It’s tough to see them go, and I hate to see them sitting there, but I have to have faith that the right people will come along and fall in love with them.
Everett, flirting with da bird.
And getting a bit too close to Miz Poo, who was aghast.
She reached out to smack him, but he was too fast for her, and was keeping his eye on da bird.
Then he went and sat in the box.
A lot.
All day Sunday, he carried this green sparkle ball around, keening as though he’d killed something and deserved praise.
Such a cutie pie.
I have to say, I think he went off to Petsmart just in time. Yesterday morning when I came downstairs, I found him sitting in the back yard at the bottom of the steps, looking around. At eight months old, he’d finally figured out the cat door.
No babies for Emmy yet. Every time I leave the house for longer than a few minutes, I rush up to the foster room to see if she’s birthed those babies yet. She yawns at me and says “What babies?”
She is absolutely packed full of kittens, that one. You can’t tell so clearly when she’s laying in her basket or hanging out in her kennel, but yesterday she flopped down on the floor, and I could see the writhing mass of kittens moving and kicking in her belly. I spotted what was, without a doubt, a kitten foot moving across her side. It is so cool and so weird to watch (and to feel).
I can’t wait to meet those babies. ANY DAY NOW, EMMY.
“Just hanging out on my shelf. No babies here!”
(We were doing the slow-blink love-eyes at each other.)
“I am not pregnant. I am just full-figured.”
Stinkerbelle, atop her pantry. Going by the look on her face, I suspect she was looking at Tommy.
Previously
2011: Behold, I continue to live!
2010: No entry.
2009: No entry.
2008: Damn those cats and their Snackin’ Time.
2007: Who knew that Hellcats enjoy ripping eyeballs from your face and then batting them around the room?
2006: Yeah, one of those days.
2005: So sue me.
2004: Always.
2003: What keeps me sane.
2002: No entry.
2001: Plants.
2000: Translation: I’m going to get a gown that will cover your fat ass.
Maybe you should do RAnderson or something for your email address. I did ddavis for mine and haven’t had a problem.
On a different note (not), I’m going to New England Institute of Technology and there’s another Danielle Davis there too. Starting same time, same major, and same town as me. Scary. Maybe her mom has 82 cats like you! 🙂
When I was going to attend University of Southern Maine, there was another girl registered with my exact name, same middle initial and all.
I’m not going to bother to change my email address, though, it’s not enough of an issue. At least, not YET.
Maybe Illinois Robyn Anderson will take back her maiden name when she gets divorced, change her email address to RobynMaidenname and you’ll never hear from her again!
I should be so lucky! 🙂
“you are about as scary as a marauding pack of cotton balls”
I MUST borrow this. I’ll send you a dime every time I use it 🙂
Awesome – it’s a deal! 🙂
I have a super common name to, and face the same issue with my email account. There must be 20 people who think they have my email address, and they give it to friends, stores, doctors, websites, etc. One woman is driving me slowly insane, because she regularly fights with her relative? friend? with my name and sends long, pissy diatribes. I got her to stop at one point by threatening to post it on the internet, but a few months later, she popped back up.
I sense the need for a web site where we can post all these annoying emails we receive!
I have a black and white surveillance camera in my barn and it is hooked up to an tiny, old TV right next to our real TV. We watch Goat TV in the barn while watching regular TV. We got this thing like 15 years ago for 100.00 at Fred Meyer. We now can not live with out one. I was thinking, especially with Emmy in the family way, it would be nice in your foster room. You would not have to disturb her to know what she is doing and you could really keep an eye on her. Even better… there are many horse farms that have these barn cams and have them hooked up to the internet so people can be on foal watch. I also know many people who have them in their goat kidding stalls so they don’t interrupt labor to check the doe. Just thinking.. might be helpful and FUN! It is just cool to watch them when they think you are not…
We actually have a webcam that I used after Maggie had her babies so that I could check and see what they were doing – and so I wouldn’t go walking in and disturb them when they were in the middle of nursing or sleeping. I need to dig it out and set it up, it’d be nice to see what she’s doing in there all day! 🙂
Great idea, Robin in idaho!
TOO, not to. God.
I too have a person who uses my email address. Every year I get a notice from a yearbook place saying they are ready. She has two daughters, apparently. I send a notice to the yearbook place, and they must track her down somehow.
Maybe if you gave the mammogram place your gmail email one of the other robyn anderson’s would cancel your appointment! 🙂
Oh Emmy honey you’ve got my sympathies. I’m due my 2nd baby in 2 weeks and am also packed full of baby! Who knows? Maybe we’ll give birth on the same day!
c.
My friend received a letter on President’s day weekend in her maiden name. She has been married nearly 16 years and changed her name upon being wed. The letter informed her she owed $600,000.00 for a lawsuit or judgement or something involving a defunct retail company. She had to wait for the long holiday weekend to end to get in touch with the sender. It seems there was an executive who made an error(I’m thinking embezzled) this money that included fees and interest who had the same name as my friend’s maiden name They sent the notice out to every person with the name they could find-that’s how they “do it”. The person had my friends’ state but a town she never lived in as a one time address. My friend requested a letter stating she is not that Miss Blah Blah and not responsible for the debt. The woman seemed flustered and said “We’ve never been asked that before.” Lazy detective work? I’m glad my name is quite unusual.
There is an app to store all your store reward card numbers into. For Droid phones, the link ishttp://www.appbrain.com/app/key-ring-reward-cards/com.froogloid.kring.google.zxing.client.android
Apple has one, too.
I love that you canceled the other Robyn’s dental appt. A million years ago, before cellphones or the internets, our community phonebook mistakenly printed our phone number for an old lady type hair salon. Most of the time I’d give people the correct # and all would be well. But for the ones who got nasty with me because they had the right number because it was in “the book,” I apologized and made appts for them.
Funny timing. I just clicked over from “unsubscribing” to a site I’d never subscribed to in the first place, for the same reason. My email address is just my first name, which has an unusual spelling but apparently there are a lot more people with unusually spelled first names, or first name starting with E, last name Layne, than you’d think.
I have canceled spa appointments, real-estate viewings, Tupperware parties, and all sorts of things. I once intervened in a family feud where the daughter was clearly being a spoiled ass, and the mother replied later to thank me because her daughter had taken my words more seriously than the mother’s own.
The first two or three times I get a personal email for a particular person (as best I can judge by the sender, location, or other details) I’ll be polite and reply, “You have the wrong email address. Please contact your intended recipient to get their correct email address.” If they keep coming, though, I get inventive. I once got an email for an Elayne in England who is a shopaholic – I was getting five or ten “special member-only offers” a DAY from various companies for this woman – about a meeting to discuss the catering for her upcoming wedding. I replied saying that everything was on hold until the prospective groom was released from gaol (hoping that was the correct British term/spelling) and that I was sure it would be any day now, given that they hadn’t even found the body yet and his barrister (ditto) was working day and night to have him released, but his lengthy record of previous convictions was holding things up.
I got into a pissing contest once with someone from maybe Tennessee who insisted that she had the right email address and how did I get access to her friend’s account. When, about four exchanges in, I called her a stupid fucking cunt, she informed me that she was a volunteer at the Sheriff’s Office and she was going to report me and boy, wouldn’t I be in trouble then! At that point, I kicked it into high gear and the exchange went on for six or seven more rounds, each one of which I ended by saying something along the lines of, “All this headache could be resolved if you were to simply STOP EMAILING ME as I have asked you [x+1] times to do.” And back would come her response about how Sheriff so-and-so (who she had cc’d on several exchanges) was going to be all over me like white on rice and man alive was I ever going to regret the day I hacked into her friend’s email account. At one point she told me that she was refusing to stop emailing me until I called her, or provided my full name, address, telephone number, and employer to “prove” that I wasn’t the Elayne she was trying to reach. AS IF!
The funniest part was, the first three or four emails I’d gotten from her over the months (and politely replied to) were about how some people in some ladies’ group she was involved with were upset with her and how she was just trying to do her best but there’s no pleasing some people etc etc. In one of those emails she had made a remark about driving home after she’d had “waaaaaay too many” margaritas or whatever at one of their functions, so I forwarded a copy of that one to the Sheriff she was threatening me with, asking him to please have a talk with her about the illegality and dangers of driving while under the influence, and to discuss with her the nature of email addresses and how calling someone an idiot, when they are behaving idiotically, is not against the law.
They don’t usually get that heated or protracted, but I was super bored that day.
There is one person in Illinois who keeps using my email address to sign up for what I refer to as “let’s-all-hate-the-gays” type promotions – Focus on the Family, Defend Marriage, One-Man-One-Woman type stuff. When I clicked the “unsubscribe” button on the third or fourth one, it popped me up a webpage that had the gentleman’s full name, address, home phone number, and alternate (work) email address. I spent HOURS signing him up for all sorts of equal rights, acceptance, pro-equality mailing lists. And a few adult-themed sites, too, I must confess.
And I know I’ve told you about the boss who sent an email asking the employee to transfer a huge sum of money from account #THIS to account #THAT, and here are all the passwords and login credentials you’ll need to get access to both accounts. The “OMG thank you thank you thank you for being an honest person” reply I received when I emailed back to say, “Wrong email address, also change your passwords NOW because I don’t want to be blamed if any money goes missing” was so heartfelt as to be hilarious.
What kills me dead are the ones where I reply nicely saying, “You have the wrong email address” and the person replies and asks, “What address do you want me to use?”
To quote Ron White, you can’t fix stupid.
Anyway, every time I click to come here in the past few days, I’m chanting in my mind, “Babies! Babies! Babies!” to tell Emmy to get hot, we’re waiting.
Good Lord! How can Saint Angelina be a pain in the ass? If you ask me, I’d say that girl needs a sammich or something, and then maybe she wouldn’t be so uppity. That said, 7 (or however many) kids would make me cranky, too, Brad Pitt or no.
I LOVE Revenge. I am usual not one for the trashy soap-types, but it’s SO bad that it’s good, I guess. Emily is totally not scary, and Madeleine Stowe (“I’ll find you. No matter what OCCURS!”) is such a beeyotch. My favorite is Nolan, though. I love him. Do you know he’s almost 40? Hmmph. True story. I read it on People, so it must be true.
I keep getting emails for a nurse… because part of my email address is RN. Duh. Just because my email says RN does not mean I am an RN. I’ve even gotten annoyed people asking why I’m not replying to them about a patient that is in dire need of my advice. Makes me think I should change my email address to MD, just to see what kind of emails I get, lol. Do you think I should give them some advice, or would that put me in legal trouble?
Give them advice, but make it along the lines of:
“Wearing nothing but the top half of a bikini two sizes too large (must be purple, pink, or screaming neon green), go into your front yard at 5:15 P.M. Bring with you a hula hoop, a 5-gallon bucket 3/4 filled with cooked elbow macaroni noodles (other tubular pasta shapes may be substituted), a cheese grater, and a large (3- to 5-pound) block of cheese (any type).
Facing North, place your left foot into the bucket of pasta and begin to sing ‘I’m a Little Teapot’ loudly enough to be heard three houses down. Begin hula-hooping with the first note, and do not stop or let the hula hoop fall past your knees. While so doing, begin grating the cheese block with the cheese grater, making sure all the shavings/crumblings fall into the bucket of pasta. When cheese shavings completely cover the top of the pasta, stomp it all down so that you see mostly pasta on top again. (You may pause hula-hooping for the stomping part of the process.)
When the cheese shavings have been pushed to the bottom of the bucket, make a 90-degree turn so that you are now facing west, and change the tune the Beatles’ ‘She Loves Me.’ Resume hula-hooping and grating the cheese.
When the cheese covers the pasta again, scrunch the cheese down into the pasta again, place your RIGHT foot into the bucket (your left foot may go on the lawn if the bucket is not big enough for both feet to fit), turn 90 degrees so that you are now facing south, and resume hula-hooping and grating while singing the National Anthem.
When the cheese once again covers the pasta, turn 90 degrees (facing east), and finish your treatment with a rousing rendition of ‘John Jacob Jingleheimer Schmidt.’ Don’t forget to keep the hula hoop going.
When this process has been completed, retreat into your kitchen. Pour the contents of the bucket into a large baking dish, add salt and pepper to taste, and bake at 350 degrees for 45 minutes or until browned on top. Do not wash your feet for a minimum of 84 hours, but you may wear socks. For those 84 hours, you may eat nothing but the macaroni and cheese casserole. When the last of the mac-and-cheese is gone and the 84 hours are up, you may shower, but use no hot water. This should cure your condition. If you have followed these instructions PRECISELY but your problems persist, make an appointment to see your family doctor.”
HEEEEEEEEEE!
LMAO! Don’t forget to add: “Record your actions and send me a copy so I can attach it to your file.”
I have the same issue with gmail. “Alternate Universe Diane” (as I like to call her) lives in Delaware and freely gives out my email address (that I have had since 2003) to anyone and everyone. She is also getting divorced (I received a copy of her divorce filing from her lawyer), she ran a marathon in Georgia, had a friend write her for advice on getting pregnant and is involved in a charity organization.