Too Much Amalah for Just One Column
June 23, 2004
You know the drill: You ask, I dance dangerously close to giving actual answers. It's the Wednesday Advice Smackdown here at the site which you are currently looking at. With links! For clicking! And some photos! And more of me me me me than you ever would want.
Dear Amalah, My husband is all in a tizzy because I got a sweet little gmail account thanks to an invite from a blogger. I told him, as soon as I get an invite to give, I'll send it to you. I'm even posting to my secret blogger account just so that it will be active enough that they might give me another invite. But you see? I kinda need TWO gmail accounts. I need one to use for non-blogging people. So - uh - I kinda got an invite and uh - used it for myself. And now? My husband thinks I'm a greedy wench. But I NEEDED it. I NEEDED two. I mean - I don’t want my ex-husband knowing I have a blog. And I don’t want my in-laws knowing about that blog. So I NEEDED another gmail. Also - I dont want to use my real name in my blogging world. So you see? TWO. I need a blogging gmail and a non-blogging gmail. Thats not so unreasonable. Or, am I, in fact, a greedy lil wench?
misszoot[at]gmail.com AND name_withheld_because_y’firstname.lastname@example.org
Miss Zoot is the winner of the non-useful bonus points from last week, as she was the very first to send my shiny new gmail account a question. Pretty! Oh, and because I’m a genius? And because Chris told me how? All mail to amy[at]amalah.com goes to Gmail. As does mail to advice[at]amalah.com, which y’all should totally send mail to, because otherwise the Wednesday Advice Smackdown is going to DIE and GO AWAY FOREVER and perhaps I’ll throw a tantrum and GO AWAY TOO. Wah. Or not.
Anyway. Zoot is a total greedy wench. Just like me, as I am currently sitting on FOUR Gmail invites because I’m thinking I could use another one too. Like with my real name, for important non-blogging business. Of which I have none, but I might someday. And maybe I should get my maiden name too, just in case anyone from high school is sending out random emails to email@example.com trying to find me to apologize for being such a dick back then. And then I could write back and be all, CHECK IT OUT ASSHOLE. THE WORLD HATES YOU NOW.
And then maybe I should keep one invite for my future child. I could register his or her name and guarantee that they will be the coolest and most wired infant in Gymboree. And when the other mothers start bragging about the APGAR test or when little Courtney-Emma-Lindsey first rolled over, I can be all, “Yes, but is your child on GMAIL yet? No! Oh, what a shame! No one invited them?”
What would you do if a random stranger gave you $1000?
Wait, is this an advice question? You need advice? About free money? You SUCK.
Anyway, what would I do with $1,000 from a random stranger? First, I would send most of it to my favorite online journaler who provides me with daily diversions and hours of entertainment for free. Someone who would take that money and blow it on bad, socially irresponsible things like Coach purses and Manolo Blahniks or a Louis Vuitton tank top. Then I would go ahead and send the rest of the money to her anyway, so she could invest some of it in quality growth mutual funds.
Dear Amalah, I love your Web site. You're so smart and funny. Do you mind if we buy you stuff? Is there some sort of "wish list" you might have?
I swear to GOD I did not write this question. AND this question was sent to me BEFORE yesterday’s post, the one about all the presents. This person is PSYCHIC. And also in the office across the hall from me. Maybe he’s a spy! Anyway.
Shockingly, I do have a wish list. Stuff I sort of want but won’t buy for myself, because I want other people to buy it for me. A crucial part of my five-step, long-term plan for Amalah.com.
Step One: Start Web site.
Step Two: Gather large and devoted audience.
Step Three: Post wish list repeatedly.
Step Four: Profit.
Step Five: Kool-Aid for all.
Oh! And speaking of presents, here are pictures from Jason’s birthday. There is a huge lapse in time between him opening his gifts and then me taking pictures of my shoes for some reason. It involved much wine, and I wrote all about here.
What, you didn’t know I had a secret double-blogging life? Sorry.