Breaking: Send Nigerian Spammers Grammarly PRONTO

Part of a spam e-mail

Part of a spam e-mail (Photo credit: Wikipedia) NOT the email from Apple but too funny to pass up. May be offensive

Honest as shit!? I just received an email from “Apple” informing me of a security breach. GASP!! What do I do? What do I do? Calm down Robin!! Keep reading. Oh, phew! Click here. Thank God!

Questions? Real quick.

1. Who the hell is in charge of the organized “Spamafia” group? This bullshit has gone on long enough. Here’s the email I received:

StopSpamafia

Let’s Come Together and #StopSpamafia

You haνe receiνed this email because our sγstem has noticed some susρicious actiνities with ΑρρleΙD ,all what you need to κeeρ enjoying all the benefits of your id is to confirm γour identitγ , follow the linκ below to start this ρrocess

If you’ve read anything I’ve ever written in the past, you’ll understand that I am not bashing the tactics of the fine young team of thugs; my beef is with the horrible (dare I say it?), grammar. Please note, once again, that I am not attacking the “misplaced comma” or the “horrible use of CAPITAL letters”—God, and spammers know, I’ve got no room to judge. I am attacking the idiotic MISUSE of words, and the slang that clearly implicates them as ridiculous fakes.

Kindly Ignore Me if I’m Offensive, BUT….

Oh yah…another indicator this was bullshit, (for the record, I didn’t need a second opinion), I’m a writer (air quotes). There was obviously a mix-up of email lists—The only Apple product I own is well, nevermind…man, I’m hilarious. (Please note from my highly technical graphic above)–I need nothing fancier than a kids tablet to get “work” done.)

If they really want to hook someone with a pansy-ass sucker punch, they need a new content marketing strategy. Why the hell hasn’t someone already pitched this idea? Damn writers! I’ll pitch my idea first (you can go next!):

I’ll pitch my idea first (you can go next!):

Dude!!! Our bad!! You’re AppleID is all jacked up. Yah, I’m at the gym with my homies, working out ( I SOOO love sweating to Taylor Swift! LOL), when my

Taylor Swift (album)

Taylor Swift (album) (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Apple-Nano-Redunculous-Retro-C573982-Customer-Service-Management-Device alerted me to a compromised situation occuring with your shit, dude. Here’s the dealio: You can click this button to confirm your identity, or me and my boys are gonna have to quit it at the gym early and hit the office for a total re-boot of your system. MAN!!! We were about to get down in here. J/K! Anyway, it’s your call. 

2. Who keeps clicking the damn spam links??? For real! In order for a scam to continue, it has to work—-> STOP CLICKING on the links! Stop it!

In addition to supporting a group of complete morons who should have spell-checker or grammar software by now, you’re making an entire group of people look idiotic!

In closing, I leave you with these thoughts.

Nigeria: Use a stolen credit card and pay for a program. Duh!

People: Quit clicking the links. Duh!

Do you honestly believe tech support at Apple talks like this? Do you not think PayPal has a quality control department that proofs emails before they’re sent out? Do you STILL think your Internet is safe?

Hilarious.

OM3! Number 33 is Ruling Me: Obsession or Something More?

The number 33 has been ruling my life for the past seven years now. I rarely speak about it because my family thinks I’m a big enough weirdo, I was trying to spare them. They almost escaped. Unfortunately (for them), I’m a die-hard BING Reward chaser, and that literally is what cost them.

Let me tell you friends, there are a LOT of people out there like me (YES!), and the association with these numbers consumes them as it does me. I notice it all the time, and everywhere. Like here:

333 Words in a Blog Post I Wrote Recently that Briefly Mentioned DNA

333 Words in a Blog Post I Wrote Recently that Briefly Mentioned DNA

What the Hell am I Talking About?

My dad passed away when I was 33.

He was found dead in his apartment, which was #33.

It was located on California State Highway 33.

He worked for at the same business for 33 years.

It was located at 33 N. Salado.

He would have been sixty-two years old on September 23, 2014.

It Gets So Unbelieveable: Are You Buckled Up?

I have been bombarded with the number’s 33 and 333 for a couple weeks now; more so than ever. The frequency of the number sequences has gotten so overwhelming, I started documenting them to prove to those around me that I was still semi-sane.

I came across this discovery as I was searching for past stories I’ve written about my dad. Look at the top left-hand side of this screen shot. Right above a note I wrote about my grandpa.

33 Notes Stored on Facebook

33 Notes Stored on Facebook

To me, the numbers have always been positive indicators. They have always reminded me my dad was still here. They’ve busted me acting up,  as a reminder that I’m not alone and provide encouragement to forge ahead. I know I’m a weirdo–Keep reading, it’s about to get better.

This Photo Taken in 2010 at a Gas Station Down the Street. I first started watching after I saw this. It was 3 years after my dad passed.

This Photo Taken in 2010 at a Gas Station Down the Street. I first started watching after I saw this. It was 3 years after my dad passed.

My relationship with my dad was rocky from the start. To say we bumped heads would be an understatement. He and I clashed, and it sucked.

I never understood how to communicate with him, always fought for his attention and mimicked his stubbornness, especially while under the influence of beer. I didn’t get his approval, or accolades, or support, or encouragement-from him, I got a lot of “blah”.

That all changed a couple years before he died. The last years with him were good. He was present, watched my boys, tried to follow along with my life, and evolved into a pleasant man. Although we got on each other’s nerves, it wasn’t as bad as the previous years.

So, Back to The 3’s

A Tweet I Sent With 33 Looking at Me

A Tweet I Sent With 33 Looking at Me. Ironic? It Was a Shout Out to My Dad.

I noticed the number three and its correlation to my dad pretty soon after his death. As you can imagine, I also began to notice the number’s 33 and 333 more often.

At first, I’d see the numbers and think it was cool, and sent a shout out to my dad. There was peace that gave me the sense of knowing, (in my weird way) that he was still around, looking out for my me, my kids, and my sister. No one else in the family had this connection, so I felt special.

Overwhelming feelings of gravitation toward recognizing the presence of these numbers has gnawed at me for the past seven years. It’s as if they are trying to say the meaning is greater than what I am interpreting.

Naturally, I think I’m dying.

I know it’s irritating, but I can’t help it. I built to process things differently than most-God knows I’ve spent years trying to change it, but I have no choice. I over-analyze, and literally drive myself crazy, trying to find more; which in all honesty, drives everybody else crazier than it does me.
Naturally, that makes me pursue it further, and that’s exactly what I did today.

I have NO IDEA why but in seven years, I’ve never put any real research into this phenomenon. I’ve talked about it, posted pictures on Facebook, made anyone near me stop to look at the clock when I’ve caught it at 3:33, but I never looked into an actual meaning before now.

Computer Screen Shot at 3:33

Computer Screen Shot at 3:33

It was September 23, 2014, and it was a long one full of thought, disbelief, confusion, and excitement. If everything adds up—what does it all mean?

Let’s just say I was a bit shocked at the results, as I read some philosophy behind the meaning. Let’s break it down according to Creative Numerology.

Screenshot from Creative Numerology about 33

Screenshot from Creative Numerology

Who wants to know what my numbers are?

Here goes:

My birthday:

1+2+2+7=12=1+2=3

September 23, 2014

9+2+3+7=21=2+1=3

I went on to break down every birthday I could think of; family members, friends, strangers… NO ONE else has a life number of 3. So, what does it all mean? I’m exploring more. I’ll be back. Leave an opinion if you’ve got one.

He Was No Tom Selleck: Lessons From Dad After He Passed

*Originally shared at Yahoo! Voices in June 2014—- My parents divorced when I was three, and as a result, I became a statistic. In the ’70s, divorce was a new concept, and the psychology of parenting wasn’t anything people thought about changing. In truth, the notion of parenting roles was still vague during these times. Fathers were not viewed as less actively involved with children — not like mothers — so weekend visitation (in the rare case of divorce) was socially accepted.

My dad carried his weight with visitation and child support but didn’t go beyond. He attended my graduations from 8th grade and high school but other than that; he was absent.

As a child, he was my hero. I told my friends that he was the coolest guy ever. I often compared his looks to Tom Selleck (he was young and popular then!) and bragged about how much fun he was.

Tom Selleck on the red carpet at the 1989 Acad...

Tom Selleck on the red carpet at the 1989 Academy Awards, March 29, 1989 (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

In hindsight, I only remember going anywhere with him twice. Once to Disneyland and once to a zoo.

As a teen, I began to struggle with his role. I rebelled at the idea that he was sort of a deadbeat, but the realization was becoming clearer. He was a hard man to please, and it was nearly impossible to get his attention.

After the birth of my first child, I began to feel pity for him. He spent his free-time with his buddies at the bar; he was uninterested in my life. At first, I was angry. Years made me soften, and my fondness for Psychology made me analyze him.

This analysis made me very aware of his pain. I began to forgive.

My dad passed away seven years ago from complications with his liver. A result from excessive drinking. A few years before he died, I was able to repair our relationship. He had quit drinking, and I learned I liked him. I was almost 30 years old before I realized how similar I was to him. His desire to become a better grandpa was ultimately what repaired our relationship.

He became the dad I had always wanted. He was a great grandpa to my kids.

His legacy carries into my life on a daily basis. I think about him during every aspect of my role as a parent. I continue to strive to be a better mom, and I always look at the good and bad of my dad.

He has indirectly taught me more about being a parent than I could ever have imagined.

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Belly Flopping Back Into Writing and Apparently I need a Niche

Robin Matteri:

I’d like to gracefully dive back in as a writer who shares a unique voice, and a seat at lunch with Oprah; however, I’m belly flopping into content marketing and sharing a seat at lunch with the cool kids at every writing forum I can find.

Originally posted on Perfectly Imperfect & Simply Chaotic Words:

My style of writing is like me —- Scattered. Let’s just say, for the sake of argument, that I’m a creative writer who accidentally fell into online content writing in 2006. Prior to learning about assignments, deadlines, and keyword placement, I wrote in my black and white composition book and called it genius. Ok, I know, I know.

I’d like to gracefully dive back in as a writer who shares a unique voice, and a seat at lunch with Oprah; however, I’m belly flopping into content marketing and sharing a seat at lunch with the cool kids at every writing forum I can find.

“One of these days Oprah, one of these days.”

Say what!? A niche?

As an aspiring writer, I am completing applications for content mills as quickly as an email spammer announcing lottery winnings. It’s overwhelming, daunting, frustrating, and exhilarating all in one…

View original 508 more words

39 Blog Posts and The Chick Did WHAT?

Two days ago, I published my thirty-ninth post here at WordPress and it’s been a bit of a process for this “self-proclaimed” genius. Surprisingly, post number thirty-nine has been “my best day yet” according to the notification Gods working behind the wheel of analytics, and ironically, number thirty-nine is also my age. Interested yet?

Well, after you hear this, you’re going to reconsider the props I was given, and the attention you gave me. I’m willing to bet the number thirty-nine also represents my I.Q score.

Go 39

Go 39 (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

 

 

Yep, friends, my rant about earning a forced education out of the pure desire to follow a dream, regardless of my economic status, had surpassed the prior thirty-eight posts I’d written after only one-hour of exposure. We were damn near viral (ok, a small exaggeration), I was getting excited, (insert more sarcasm), when the frustration with trying to customize a widget overpowered me. Approximately three minutes after the abundant accolades, I transferred my domain name to another site.

Edit DNS. Yes, I did.

My phone was blowing up—25, yes, that’s right, 25 new people had started following me within ONE HOUR.

I had no idea this “brilliant” idea was about to take my mental health hostage. You see, I didn’t have another server ready to go, or a plan, and I just jumped. Hmmm? I probably don’t need to warn you, but just in case… DO NOT CLICK developer links and bounce around like you’re a bad-ass, even if, you’re like me, and think thirty-eight published blog posts has now earned you a spot amongst the elite team of computer engineers, known as the Geek Squad.

A Best Buy Geek Squad Volkswagen New Beetle.

A Best Buy Geek Squad Volkswagen New Beetle. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Ummm, yah…. I’m that girl.

((FYI to all the Internet Editors: I KNOW this site is full of errors…. that’s just how I roll.))

Looking on the bright side, I can add another skill to my resume thanks to that mistake. YAH! My transcripts are looking marvelous. So, after a small break, I’ve returned. Guess what else? I changed everything here.

New Title…. CHECK!

New Logo….CHECK!

New Blogger….DAMN! Stuck with me.

Perfectly Imperfect & Simply Chaotic is so much more reflective of who I am, and how I navigate life. I’m on the edge of turning FORTY. There are some things about the DNA of ME that I can work on, and others that are inevitably inherent to WHO, and WHAT I’m supposed to be.

Edit DNA. No, I didn’t.

I’ve tried, he’s tried, she’s tried, the dog tried…. You get my point.

I blocked that transfer, put my big girl pants on, cleaned my shit up, and came back with an authentic voice.

Just like my blog. You’ll either love us or hate us, what ever you decide, thanks for the lesson.

 

Hardest Working Broke Chick: Poverty Education

Sometimes I wonder…. I can’t understand it, and I’ve said it before— I’m the hardest working broke chick I know. On the flip side-poverty has taught me: website design, visual design, content marketing, networking, WAY more about how GOOGLE operates than I should know, WAY more about nerdy shit then I should know, how to be a pimp and annoy everyone, how to properly index a site, how to rank a blog, how to beat F’book at their own game (just kidding, just kidding, don’t cyber-slap me Zuckerburg), how to spam like the brilliant Nigerian, and finally, patience. <—-oh wait, that’s the medication, not poverty.

English: A juxtaposition of affluence and poverty

English: A juxtaposition of affluence and poverty (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Not sure if I’d rather have had knowledge or money to pay someone else to do all this…. I’ll let you know the verdict when I’m living large as a “Thousandaire” —-

The Irony: A Modern Day Madam Spammer

In dealing with mental health problems, it’s natural to also deal with self-esteem and self-worth issues which I find more and more ironic every day. Statistics indicate a significant amount of writers and authors who produce brilliant work, are also inflicted with issues concerning mental health. My favorite list is one from Listal that details award-winning authors and their actual or assumed diagnosis. Jack Kerouac was thought to be schizophrenic, Kafka endured years of severe depression, and many others were diagnosed with similar ailments.

Jack Kerouac

Cover of Jack Kerouac

Here’s an article about famous actors with mental health disorders.

The Irony?

I’m a PIMP! Yes, you heard me. I struggle daily with my talent to produce words, with overwhelming feelings of poor self-worth, inadequacies, and self-esteem problemos! BIG TIME!

English: Entrance to Madam Jojo's

English: Entrance to Madam Jojo’s (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

AND still…. I spend 5-8 hours a day pimping myself out to editors, social media sites, friends, family, and any damn person who’ll read something I wrote. I’m still baffled.

I’m too poor to hire someone so I pimp my writing out. A lot. My experience with pimping myself out has turned me into a modern day Madam—more commonly referred to as a “SPAMMER” — I admit it.

EVEN MORE ironic?

After intense pep talks with the friends living in my head (we need encouragement to “promote” my work), I become more depressed because of the obsession to check the stats on an hourly basis.

Like clockwork, I share a new blog on Facebook and almost ALWAYS immediately receive mobile notifications—“One friend ‘liked’ your new post.” My heart races, anticipation mounts…. 

THANKS MOM!                  

Self-pity, pimping, and on and on and on…..

Ironic!

(DAMN Nigerians are brilliant!)

Eight Year Old Tells Me to Take a Vacation….to BINGO! Huh?

I can’t decide if the YouTube video I posted of my eight-year-old telling me I need a vacation is a good thing, or his way of telling me to get the hell out of his face. Anyway, here’s a funny video of my son telling me to “take a break” at BINGO. His imitation of BINGO players and winning is hilarious (well, to me anyway!), and I hope you enjoy.


He’s obviously hoping to get famous with his shirtless video.