Saturday, February 18, 2012

Stolen identity? Don't You get any input?

 Seriously. If you are going to steal my identity, I want to be remade as a tall slim dark haired, almond eyed international woman of intrigue. I want to drive a Ferrari or a classic muscle car. I want to wear vintage Chanel and sit in the front row of fashion shows. I want rose petals strewn across my path as I exit buildings. I wants doves released aas I walk onto my balcony in Venice and scratch my ass and belch. I want the largest bottles of Chimay to be served at lunch to homeless men in my honor. I want people to know not only my first, last and middle name, bu the nickname I'd give myself if I was a thoroughbred in Kentucky.

If you are going to remake me, motherfuckers, if you are going to take my credit card numbers, embed them in a cheesy visa card, do not. I repeat, Do not buy pants at THE GAP. Do not eat at POPEYES. Do not fill the tanks of four different cars at the same Chevron in Jacksonville, and never, ever, ever step foot in a McDonald's.

And when you have my yahoo list while I am sleeping, send my contacts an offer to escape to Belize. Send them free lottery tickets guaranteed to win, or the cutest little puppies God ever designed. Send the women chocolate from Switzerland and diamonds from shops in Belgium, cut by masters. Send the men love songs and sexy women to sing them. Send my parents a new home in a warm city and my sisters and cousins and nephews... whatever they think they need to be happy. But mostly, hacker-dude, computerized faceless person getting paid by another faceless entity to disrupt lives and make a whole bunch of people hit the delete key... mostly, I want to be sure that all this spam returns to you.

Because isn't it a good life that is lived when we give as good as we get?
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