I've had my netcom.no mail address for a year, I think, rarely ever getting any mail except those pertaining to my larger diary and e-shopping. Then a couple days ago, suddenly there is a flood of spam, some of it copies of what I get in my older mail accound, which has been spammed for a couple years at least.
I think this proves beyond reasonable doubt that the vast majority of spam morons use the same address provider. Once you're on that supplier's list (whoever that may be) you may as well start automatic filtering. Oh well. This kind of makes sense, them being morons and all.
If any of you want to send me a mail, you can probably guess some things to not write as a header ...
So here I was innocently trying to print some forms on a special paper when this woman started to cough. And not just any cough. She's got pertussis, the whooping cough. OK, it's well past its initial stage, but still I'm not happy that she turns up without any warning before the disease is gone. I would definitely not have been in the same room as her if I had known. I'm not at all happy about it. I haven't had the whooping cough, which has been rare in Norway during my lifetime because of child vaccination. With the influx of immigrants from poor countries, and with hysterical parents afraid that their little jewel may possibly contract any side effects to a vaccine, the disease is spreading rapidly here on the south coast. I'd prefer to not get it, though. I have a pretty good prognosis of survival even if I get it, but 6 weeks in coughing purgatory is not my dream of spending this autumn. And all for no good reason.
Now I'm growing a headache too. My digestion is growling and churning. The light seems too bright for my eyes. I'm too horny to write fiction - my characters do ecchi things in my head. I bet my Sims wouldn't be much better company. And my hand hurts too much to play Daggerfall. I guess I'll look for some friends online, or sit down with holy scriptures. These are the days when you wished you had stayed in bed.