Motivating the Spammers

Since starting up Hey! There Is No Try, I have gotten some pretty damn funny spam comments. I generally just delete most of them out of hand, but the following just struck me as too funny to get rid of:

“I would like to consider the chance of thanking you for your professional instruction I have often enjoyed viewing your site. I am looking forward to the commencement of my university research and the whole preparation would never have been complete without consulting your site. If I could be of any assistance to others, I might be glad to help through what I have discovered from here.”

I’m glad to know that my “professional instruction” in the area of Missoula, Montana’s Greenough Park could help him so much. That or the update on my then benchpress weights (the post is one I imported from my livejournal and was written about a year-and-a-half ago when I was much better at improving my body than I have been for a while lately).

Wouldn’t it be funny, though, if he actually spent a second or two on the site? If he did, I hope he at least took away that no matter what life dishes out, you need to keep on trucking.

Onward my young Padawan. May your “university research” be complete!

Now I’m going to get back to my novel.

And now we join one of my least favorite segments of society . . .

Yes, oh yes–mark your calendars, folks. Apparently Melissa and I have become idiots and lost our minds completely; she is now pregnant with a little creature which will become a human one of these days (February). Jesus Christ, I need to re-read that. Pregnant. Pregnant. Starts with a “P.” Hmmmm . . .  I am going to be some kid’s dad? Holy shit!

Over the last few months, we have discussed our advancing age and whether we truly want to continue going forward without kids. She said I either had to get a vasectomy (which she has been after for years) or that we needed to find some new method of birth control. She is tired of taking the pill–she has been taking it for almost 17 years, and just didn’t want to deal with the hormones anymore. I agreed 100%, although I have never been all that excited about getting snipped. I figured that as soon as I went to that extreme, she would change her mind and suddenly want kids.

So. After a couple conversations, we decided to say “Fuck it!” and just get pregnant. True to form and as happens with just about everything else in our life, as soon as we decided to go forward with it, it happened: we made the decision, she got her period, ovulated, then bingo! Pregnant.

The little creature is exceedingly tiny right now and honestly we shouldn’t have announced it to the world at large just yet, but what the hell? If we miscarry and the little thing dies, I guess that’s life. If it takes solid root and flourishes, so much the better.

Now is where I talk about one of my least favorite segments of society–parents.

As a few people may know, I am judgmental. I like to analyze people and group them together , making gross assumptions and harsh statements about them. When you take any of these groups and break them out into individuals, they are generally fine. I like some high school kids, I like some parents, I like some “grandma’s babies,” etc, but in general, when gathered together as a whole, these groups really irritate me.

I don’t like misbehaving, screechy  kids. I don’t like parents who think their kid is the center of everyone’s universe (newsflash, they aren’t!!). I don’t like parents who let their kids do anything they want and train them to be little monsters. I don’t like “mommy talk,” which is where moms try to outdo each other in demonstrating their knowledge of kids (another newsflash–I don’t give a damn how much you know about kids!).

I am more into the George Carlin philosophy on kids (you will have to look into that if you want to know what that wise man said about kids and their parents).

Lastly, I am making the public pledge here and now to not become one of these stupid parent types who does all the crap I listed above. And I hereby give you all the permission to bring it to my attention when I do and set me back on the right path. The last thing I want to become is an annoying parent. Well, I would really hate to be a “grandma’s baby” even worse, but I am safe there, I suppose.

Life will apparently be interesting between here and early February.