Dear Allison,

This is a terrible story I am so sorry for your loss. I can’t imagine the stress. Of course I will loan you $1500 dollars – being that I know you, trust you and that I have never heard of a scam like this ever. So I know for sure you are telling the truth and aren’t just some fat guy sitting at a computer in a hot dark room with a cigarette hanging off your lip, drinking a beer and waiting for some schmo to respond to your scam and send you cash.

So, according to your address you are staying at a computer workshop: http://www.brokencomputers.co.uk/whitecross Penzance Computers Workshop 01736 888202 01736 888202 – 36b Market Jew Street, Penzance, Cornwall, TR18 2HT.

Perhaps I should just give you a call and we can get this thing figured out right now. Thank goodness for the Internet or else I might not know where to find you so that I could deliver your cash right away. And just to be sure you are OK I will be contacting this place of business and letting them know your situation and to be expecting an envelope full of cash.

 I will be in touch Allison – stay strong!

Katherine Lemons

VP of Fraud Detection and “We weren’t born yesterday”

 From: allison White [mailto:allisonejw84@yahoo.com] Sent: Friday, July 23, 2010 12:02 PM To:

Subject: help

Hi! Hope you get this on time. I am writing you in a tensed mood and urgently require your kind aid soon. I made a trip to Penzance (United Kingdom) for a program. Unfortunately for me, I got mugged at gun point last night on my way to the hotel where I booked. They went away with all i had including my wallet where i have all my cash and also my cell phone. I wasn’t injured because I quickly complied. My traveling documents are been apprehended by the hotel management because of my inability to settle bills. I reported to the police and they only asked me to write a statement about the incident and later referred me to the embassy. I contacted our embassy here but they are not responding effectively to the matter. I am confused and so full of panic right now.

For now, I do not have a phone where i can be reached. All i have got here is my mail which i have limited access to. Please I need you to kindly loan me about (1,500 US Dollars) or any amount to sort-out my hotel bills and other expenses incurred here and get back home soon as i do not feel safe here anymore. I Promise to reimburse immediately on my return. I will explain full details to you when i get back. I will appreciate any amount you can quickly arrange and send to me via Western Union with the details below. Receivers Names: white Allison Receivers Address/location:36b Market Jew Street Penzance, TR18 2HT, United kingdom Please Write to me the full details of the transfer or scanned copy of the transfer receipt so that i can receive over here quickly. Let me know if you can be of any help soon because you are the only person i can reach at this moment and the next flight back home departs in about 2 days.

Hope I can count on you.

Allison White

 I regret to inform you that while you carry many adorable swim designs and styles I will be unable to purchase any of them. I fear that I am not the only non-visually impaired woman who feels this way.  As it turns out a harsh, bright spotlight that looms directly over the mirror is not quite the best lighting to be half naked in.  Unfortunately, last month, while standing in line for my full body makeover I was denied due to lack of funds.  So you can imagine that having acquired all of the things that come along with being a 30 year old hater of fitness the spotlight situation is none too pleasing.  I do hope that you will consider a change in lighting design for the future.  The perfectly lovely sales assistant looked hungry and sad from lack of sales and I certainly hope that she does not have a family to feed.

I recommend total lack of lighting if you really want the suits to fly off the racks.  Just pitch black.  But if you must have something I suggest that each fitting room have a personalized dimmer that can be turned as low as necessary to make the suit, and the girl, look good.  I believe sales will increase and customer satisfaction will improve.  In the event that a snotty, thin, in-shape, young girl happens to complain about not being able to clearly see her hip bones with the darker lighting – simply inform her that she is welcome to walk out in to the store to get a better look.  I am sure she won’t mind.

Sincerely,

30 and hating loving it

First, there is Kitty Rope who has a squeaker in his head.  Then, The Alien, who for some reason ends up outside or in the kitchen most of the time.  The Patriotic Elephant is his new 13th birthday toy, demonstrated by the fact that he still has his stuffing and eye balls.  This toy also shows Chewy’s political party allegiance (I’m just saying).  The Christmas Chicken is one of my favorites; he makes this awful sound that is especially alarming at 3:00 AM when you are trying to find your way to the toilet.  And finally there is Chewy’s twin.  He is the exact opposite of Chewy’s colors and he has no eyes, and no stuffing, so mostly he just lies in a heap – much like Chad during football season.

So there you have it.  Chewy is clearly spoiled but you know what, why shouldn’t he be.  He is like 108 years old in dog years and has been the most loyal, sweet, adorable, precious angel dog every minute.  Except that one time on the rug.  Oh, and the incident with the kitchen trash.  And that poor bunny rabbit a few days back.

Me: Is anyone available to help me in the woman’s department.

Employee: No, probably not.

Me: Oh, um, ok, so…..I only saw one rack of tennis stuff is there more.

Employee: Maybe. I don’t really know.  There might be something else if you really dig.

Me: Ok (but really thinking to myself: you unprofessional, obnoxious little twit, why don’t you at least climb out from behind that register and pretend like you get paid to work here).

Luckily I was able to overcome the generally incompetent staff of the sporting goods stores.  So tomorrow at 6:00 PM I will be ready to school Chad! 

Checklist:

1. Nike tennis skirt

2. Matching Nike top (ok perhaps this wasn’t a MUST but don’t tell Chad that)

3. 12 year old racket from high school

4. The memory of my glory days of tennis

5. The need to seriously beat Chad and excel as class favorite

6. Any actual current ability to play tennis – crap, well, 5 out of 6 ain’t bad

Look here I am in my new outfit (with hair extensions…did I also mention I have been working out and reversing any signs of aging at the same time?):

My new outfit is SUPER flattering. Clearly.

My grandmother exuded class, style, elegance and most of all – etiquette her entire life, all 91 years of it.  As early as 10 years old I was being gifted with Emily Post books and instructed on the proper way to cut my food (and though dicing up all of your chicken at once may seem efficient for stuffing your face, it is not considered couth).    I believe I was the only teenager at the sports banquet (ok, and yes, drama banquet too but it was cool at my school) who knew which water was mine (FYI, it’s BMW, bread, meal, water in that order from left to right).  Yet even with my extensive training early on I had no idea that the rules of etiquette reached so far – 644 pages worth.  Who knew!  There is an entire page of proper manners when having a wedding in a time of mourning and a whole chapter on appropriate clothing when visiting the country on holiday (and not just specific pieces, but fabric types too).  Anyhow, as I make my way through the book I have been completely enlightened and I feel it would be improper and just plain rude if I were not to share some of my findings with you.  I am certain you will thank me should you ever have to write a letter to the governor of a social club or entertain a head of state.

More to follow next week!

See - BMW. Also note that once used a utensil should never touch the table again, though I am sure this rule is null and void when dining at Lubys.

As politicians use controversial topics to recruit voters and leverage their own agendas it’s the rest of America that suffers through the consequences.  That said, I assure you this article has no political agenda (go Republican), I swear.  I kid.  I kid.  Except about the Republican part. No, no, what I really want to discuss are some of the lost rules of etiquette that use to protect us as a society.  The ones that we tossed to the side claiming that they were outdated and inhibited our natural sense of independence and freedom.  I do not mean the whole white after Labor Day thing, because that is one that should have been tossed out and has no overall social consequences – unless you consider a few more months of seeing panties through unlined white pants a social consequence.

Believe it or not being a female and choosing to be alone in the company of a married man used to be considered risky behavior that proper young ladies did not engage in.  “But that’s so lame, and besides my BFF is of the opposite sex.”  Yeah, um, and I assure you that your BFF’s spouse is none too pleased when you two meet up alone.  The fact is spending time with members of the opposite sex can produce feelings and feelings often breed actions.  Add a few glasses of wine in there and you have a recipe for divorce my friend. 

Back in the old days it was even considered uncouth for a single lady to be invited to a party by a married man, it was necessary to be invited by the lady of the house.  Don’t think that these rules only applied to ladies, men had the same rules.  Everyone had social guidelines to follow, and just think there was STILL infidelity and misconduct.  Listen, I am not saying that everything should return to the way it was – as I am pretty stoked that I don’t have to wear panty hose, a skirt and heels every day.  I do think, however, that we would all be better off if we nixed our sense of entitlement to do whatever the crap we wanted and began to think about how our actions have consequences – for ourselves and others too.  By the way, my grandmother would probably not approve of me using the word “crap” so please strike that from your memory.

If you think I sound antiquated that’s ok.  My husband doesn’t. I think he rather appreciates that I don’t spend quality time with other men; I guess he is strange that way.

Thank you very much.

Look.  There is a time and a place for spiked heels, mini-skirts, perfectly pressed hair, full makeup, and “the girl’s” on full display.  And while a golf tournament in the middle of the blazing hot day may seem like a good idea I assure you it is not.  Other than the miles of walking, hills, porta-potties, grassy knolls, 90 degree heat and d-bags around every corner I guess I can see why you might think so though.

Speaking of d-bags what’s the deal with referring to women as “talent?”  I probably heard 5 different groups of Lacoste shirt wearing 23 year olds make a comment about the awesome “talent.”  After I finished throwing up in my mouth I had to ask myself – what defines “talent?”  I didn’t notice any of the aforementioned girls playing any instruments, reciting any poetry, dancing, singing or doing anything other than walking up hills with heels on.  I guess that could be defined as talent but let’s be honest – American Idol will not be calling any time soon.

But between all the “talent” and the men hitting on the talent Saturday provided lots of entertainment.  We finished the day by looking at another bunch of houses with Gigi and Eric.  I don’t want to jinx anything but we found a winner.  And that’s all I shall say.  Oh, and no green swimming pools with tadpoles this time.  Though we did run in to yet ANOTHER shirtless home owner who was apparently completely unaware that his house was being shown.  Who lies on the couch shirtless in the middle of the day?  I guess the same person that has a stuffed fish and antlers in their master closet (nice).  Gigi and I say he was another divorcee as no respectable woman would allow a dead fish and animal remains in their closet AKA sanctuary.

P.S. You know what’s awesome, when you sneak out to roll the trash cans to the curb in your “only around the house” outfit only to be welcomed by your chatty neighbor.  Luckily she was wearing a t-shirt that said “Oh yeah, well I don’t like you either” with complimentary neon shorts and black socks.  So I was probably over dressed for the occasion in my tank top and shorts. 

P.P.S. Nobody over 12 should wear a cutsy t-shirt with a saying on it.  Same goes for scrunchies, hair bows, and that look where the young girls make a pony tail with their t-shirts in the back using an elastic hair band.

See what I mean - just. not.cute.

I spent yesterday afternoon going down my list of “dings” with the doctor:

1. Smile line my a$$, it’s a deep rooted wrinkle to the left of my mouth, get rid of it

2. Expression lines are for suckers, please remove all expression from my forehead

3. Yeah, I know, I have laid out a time or two but I don’t want to LOOK like I have laid out, so please remove this sun damage

4. And this vein on my leg is NOT “barely” noticeable so inject it, burn it whatever you gotta do just make it go away

I know.  I know.  I am a vain, superficial, awful person.  Please, keep your disapproval and judgment to yourself because I already know all the reasons why I am being ridiculous and selfish.  The thing is I don’t want to look like this in 10 years:

I figure that it’s cheaper and less invasive to do a few injections here and there than a total overhaul at 50.  I would rather NOT peel my face back, up, or off at any time so I look at this like tiny investments over time rather than a total makeover.  Because I know, without a doubt, that I do not want to look like this:

Hey, speaking of Heidi Montag the Hills is getting more and more disturbing.  Seriously.  Last season Heidi and Spencer were devout Christians and now they are crystal worshipers?  I can’t keep up.  All I know is that Lauren Conrad was one smart cookie to get out when she did.

Gosh, between my plastic surgery contemplations and my great taste in TV I sound about as deep as a puddle.   Speaking of blondes with a wealth of depth:

Back to the hunt.  We visited several homes.  The first one was just lovely; crown molding, bright rooms, well decorated, and good neighborhood.  The fact that I spotted a spider could hardly be counted as a negative – though two spiders might have knocked down the overall rating and a roach would have killed the entire rating.  By the way, it was Gigi and Eric who were rating since they were buying but I can still have my opinions.  The second home, not so much.  Low ceilings and a lack of any kind of light was a real turn off.  Not to mention the parking lot of bumper to bumper cars at a nearby neighbor’s house.  The white custom van from 1992 was a real plus though in case Gigi and Eric ever need to take a road trip or have 6 kids.

At house number three we were greeted by a shirtless forty something man doing yard work.  Awkward.  He had the kind of build where you could tell he bench pressed every day while also downing cheese burgers.  Anyway a mixture of poorly planned Do-It-Yourself jobs combined to make an underwhelming impression.  But Gigi and I decided he was newly divorced and trying to get rid of a house too big – it seemed he only needs room for a water bed and workout room now.  The divorce story was later confirmed when Chad thanked him for letting us view the home.  We so called it!

The fourth home, oh the fourth home.  The selling agent stated that the sellers “no longer cared about the

1. No electricity

2. Bags of trash

3. Filthy carpet (we were unwilling to verify the brown lump and accompanying stain)

4. Scary toilets

5. Something rustling in the closet (either that underwear had legs or there was a mouse)

6. Get ready for the topper

7. Are you ready

8. A green pool full of THOUSANDS of tadpoles and a few full grown frogs 

That was quite enough for our tour.  We couldn’t get outside quick enough.  Poor Sophia was not pleased and she made it clear that she would not be having any play dates in that home.  Ever.

The fifth home was nice, nothing amazing but nice.

So back to the hunt we go which hopefully means that I get to snoop around in stranger’s homes some more!  It is not beneath me to thumb through clothing or scourer the property for family photos.  That’s just how I roll.  If you leave me alone in your home I will probably rummage through something.  But don’t worry, I’m not a klepto or anything just an eternally curious girl.  Hence my obsession with reality TV.

So I Googled “How to get rid of birds in you’re attic” and the only suggestion was to put out a trap with bird seed and wait for the bird to willingly and calmly enter the trap.  So far I think we have managed to open up a bird buffet and extend their lives at least a few days.  Sigh.  They are probably up there right now smoking and drinking and laughing their feathered butts off at our trap.  Dern birds.

Chad has even resorted to violence.  Since I rise at 6:00 AM anyway, for work and what not, my sleep isn’t really interfered with.  But Mr. Lemons enjoys a bit of a different schedule.  He rests his head from 2:00 AM to 10:30 AM.  The bird infused mornings have really been rough for him and the lack of sleep is catching up.  Today he grabbed a faux wooden blind (death by window treatment I suppose), screamed something about HAVING ENOUGH, and headed up the stairs to the attic Bird Chateaux.  Not sure what he had in mind exactly but 3.4 seconds later he swiftly made his way down the stairs mumbling something about a plan B.

So I am afraid we have exhausted our efforts.  Three days ago I was feeling sorry for our tiny captives and hoping we would be able to set them free from our genius trap (which, by the way was technically designed for squirrels) and see them off on their merry way.  Tonight, as I lose all hope of sleeping in tomorrow, I wouldn’t mind dragging our no-rent paying, loud, smug, disease-ridden neighbors down to the nearest KFC.  BUT being the gentle soul that I am I will probably just take two Tylenol PMs and cross my fingers.

Pretty sure this is one of the birds.

And this is the other.