Spam… it ain’t just for breakfast anymore.

Santa brought me a new laptop for Christmas.  I’m somewhat suspect that he had me mixed up with someone else this year, because he brought me a tablet as well.  Let’s face it… I wasn’t that good!

Much to Mikey’s Santa’s surprise, I was way more into the tablet than the laptop.  So much so, that I did the bare minimum to get it up and running; the only sense of immediacy coming from Nicholas, who was psyched about getting my leftover Toshiba.

Fast forward to today when I finally got serious about my email accounts.  Realizing I hadn’t checked my spam-trap account since early to mid December, I knew it would be chock-full of junk.  But sift through it I did, just in case there were some real ones in there, which of course there were!

My rough estimate would be in the range of a 300 to 1 ratio; Pure Crap to “Holy Crap… free Brad Paisley tickies for tonight?” Damn the spam-trap!

But whereas when you or I send an email, the “From” field has our name in it.  Not so with the fine folks who flood our spam accounts.  Allow me to share some of the "less creative" aliases with you.

Genie Bra Works, Pennies for Hot Items, Lint Lizard Clean (not to be confused with Lint Lizard B1G1 OR Lint Lizard Features), Credit Card, Top Credit Card, Credit Comparison (aka: I’ll decide!), Insurance helper, Insurance Finder, Health Insurance Helper (those 3 have the makings of a love triangle on Match.com!), Free Credit Report, Get Subsidized Housing, Depression Help, Burial Insurance… honest to Pete, they came in that order… can you say foreshadowing??? Scholarships for Moms, Become a Ultrasound Tech (does that come with a scholarship I wonder?), Asian Dating, Private Jets, Alaska Cruises, Internal Revenue Service (Twice!), Alcohol Rehab, Quit Smoking (if I quit drinking, I would quit smoking… so that’s a wash!), and my personal favorite from this latest batch… drum roll please… Need a Larger Penis?

Of course I have my usual stalkers; they at least use their names (wink wink).  Veda J has a real thing for me. He’s always sending me a JPEG file and asking me to return the favor!  Dane Carlson is FAT with Business Opportunities for me.  Then there’s Devon Davenport, who keeps insisting he can “put me in the lap of luxury”.  Go Devon go, you big hunk of… wait, that’s not even his real name, is it! 

These men will try and court me for a few months before finally moving on to some new trollop; that’s just the way they are, short attention spans.  But women who troll the internet are a completely different animal.  You ignore them and they want you that much more.  Case in point? Anastaysia: a young Russian woman who has a direct - do not pass go, do not collect $200 - route into my recycle bin. But she is relentless in her pursuit.  All she has to do is switch up one little letter in her email address (Anastasia) and she is back in my box. (Ha… she wishes!)  Anastaysia you see, insists I am the answer to her long, lonely, cold winters.  As long as I have a credit card and a webcam…

Let me state for the record, I have never… ever… tasted Spam.  I will go to my grave with that being the case.  But add a "–trap" to the end of it… and Spam becomes a delicacy in my book!

Pinch Me...

Am I really here? Do I exist? You can actually see me, right?



Because I’m starting to think otherwise…


Yesterday, I had to go down to the DMV to tag our three cars. For most folks, this is done either online or through the mail these days. But since I have a 'KU Med Pink Ribbon' plate on two of our cars, we have to go down in person, which only proves to strengthen my Mom’s theory that “no good deed goes unpunished”!


Nissan Maxima, check. Toyota Landcruiser, check. GMC Yukon Xl… Ru-roh. “Maggie” got a funny look on her face, “this car hasn’t been registered since 2009, according to our records.” Good thing I had brought along the yellow packet from the glove box that has every single registration receipt in it since 2002 when we bought the damn thing! Suffice it to say there was a “glitch” and after a couple of phone calls to the 'State', Maggie put my car and me back in the system.


Then this morning, I look outside and all my neighbor’s recycling bins have been emptied, but not mine. Ring-ring-ring… “Hello Deffenbaugh? You guys missed picking up my recycling this morning, can you send the truck back around?” After giving her enough information to award me ‘National Security Clearance’, she informed me my account was closed in 2008! “But you guys have been picking up the Deffenbaugh bin YOU gave me every week for as long as I can remember Karen.” (I do love getting on a first name basis with people I don’t know!) “Hmmm… there must be a glitch in the system” she replies. Again… after 15 minutes of which I will never get back, I’m back in existence!


We all have days we wish we could disappear. Hit the bricks. Go away for a while.


But it’s March Madness. Spring is finally here. I have a big birthday coming up next weekend not to mention another National Basketball Championship to revel in; I’d really like to be here for all of that.

 So if you see me around in the next few days, don’t just passively raise your hand up and say “hi”. Pinch me…


I need to know I’m not just a glitch!

My Gentle, Gentle Friend Jilly...

I’m pacing today, getting a big fat nuthin accomplished. Here I am an able-bodied person, yet I’m crippled by angst. My friend Jill is receiving her first round of chemotherapy as I type these empty words. She will get an 8-hour drip of Taxol today, a 30-minute drip of Topotecan tomorrow followed by a 30-minute drip of Avastin on Friday. For those of you “in the know” about these things… and there are far too many of us out there… this is a serious chemo-cocktail.



Jill was diagnosed with Stage 1b cervical cancer almost 4 years ago. They did surgery to remove it and no further treatment was required, as early detection of cervical cancer is highly curable. She had her 3-month scans, then her 6-month scans and last month was the first of her yearly scans. Jill was just one year shy of that 5-year mark any of us who have been cursed with cancer live for… that’s the “all clear you can get on with your life now” sign. (In two short weeks, I reach my 10 year “all clear” sign… I am a lucky, lucky girl, yet not without guilt.) With Jill’s first cancer, the same one I had only mine was a slightly lesser stage, they gave her an 85% survival rate 5 years out. Mine was 90%... really? One stinkin year is all she had to go.


But that was then, this is now…


Jill's mom Judy, our friend Mary and I, took Jill wig shopping yesterday. Jill has always worn her hair long and last weekend she cut 12 inches off, sent them to “Locks of Love” and is now sporting a darling bob. That’s my opinion of course; Jill hates it. We tried several on yesterday, short shaggy styles… Mary’s favorite, mid-length layered styles, probably my fav only because they most look like the Jill we know and love. I’m not sure this is the time for a complete makeover when you are wishing with all your might that things could just return to normal. For funzies… and at the request of her brother Craig, Jill tried on a flame red number. “Sexy” was the response from big Bro! We managed a few giggles, but there were many more tears than we had hoped for. And believe me when I say… they weren’t all Jill’s.


As most of you know, this ain’t my first Rodeo. I lost my dear friend Dini to pancreatic cancer 4 years ago and then my sister TC to breast cancer 3 years ago this past November. I know all too well the journey we are embarking on. 


But know this too…


Stage IV Metastatic Disease: Fuck you; we’re not runnin. We are bringin out the big guns and you had better have your ass ready to retreat. You are not welcome here… get lost, scat, be gone… all the way gone this time!


Big tough-bad-ass words? Yep, they’re all I have right now as my friend Jill, sits in a chair, with her Mom by her side… drip, drip, drip, drip, drip…


Jill is the gentlest soul I know in this entire world. Please do whatever it is you do best when someone needs your help. Prayers, good Juju, pins in a Voo-doo doll, a stiff drink with a heartfelt toast. Send them all my good friends way; they all matter… this I know.

Enchanting, indeed...

Read this: (Click here silly)

Then this:  (yep, this)

Now listen to this: (Turn your speakers on)

OK, tell me:  Did it not put a huge smile on your face and transport you back to a time of innocence and joyous hope?

Sappy? Yeah… but there are worse things in the world than a little sap.

You go Taylor Swift.
You are the real deal and you deserve a boy like Adam.

And if you still have no idea what I'm talking about: (Click here to see how it all began)

"Mom...

does Dad have an STD?”


“No Nick, he does not. Why, pray tell, do you ask?”


“Because his meds came in the mail and they say they’re for an STD.”

Lord help me.


And for the record… Mikey may battle a little high blood pressure as well as cholesterol, but as far as “down there”… he’s perfectly healthy.


And clean...