I Cleaned House Then I Had an Idea That Seemed Much Better in My Head

I totally had another post ready to put up today, but then I spent a good deal of my early morning cleaning out my inbox and I thought, “Hey this would make great blog fodder!” (I’m telling you, I’ve been MIA for so long, I actually thought this was one of my greatest ideas ever.)


People, if you learn one thing from Steenkybee, let it be to never step away from your blog for too long. If you do, you'll stop thinking like a blogger. If you learn two things from Steenkybee, it’s that it’s never a good idea to talk, or write, in the third person. People hate that crap.

So anyway, back to my inbox. I had 4528 emails in my inbox. All of them had been read with the exception of two from the Irish National Bank, one from my accountant and four from Barnes & Noble. Yes, I neglected the important tax information tip from my accountant and decided to read IMPORTANT BUSINES DEALINGS CONFEDENTAL from Mr. Asa Redlnikerneter. (And, yes, is would seem that Mr. Redlnikemeter does not know how to spell ‘business’ or ‘confidential’ but I thought I would hear him out anyway.)

Now, over 4000 emails may seem like a lot, but don’t be fooled. I’ve had my yahoo account for years and have never tidied it up once. But today I created folders and folders within folders to classify and file almost all of my correspondence. As I was cleaning house in my email account, I came across all the correspondence that I’ve had with one blogger for almost a year.


That person? Captain Dumbass. I’m going to take the high road and not divulge how many emails I had from him because the sheer number is borderline embarrassing. I will, however, feel free to share with you some of the subject lines of the emails.

Twenty-one of those emails had JENNY POSTED! in the subject line. For months the Captain would alert me whenever The Bloggess posted. If I cracked the top 25 comments on her site, I only had him to thank with the exception of one time in the produce section of our grocery store when my iPhone crashed while I was posting a comment to Jenny’s site. I screamed “I HATE YOU!” at it, but my husband thought I was talking about the oranges. We then proceeded to have a very involved conversation on how nobody should have hard feelings toward any fruit, let alone oranges. I have never let my husband forget that that “fruit talk” cost me a top ten spot in Jenny's comment section. I wound up somewhere in the thirties. The Bloggess is powerful.

The moral of that last paragraph? I’ll never let fruit, or Steve Jobs come between me and reaching my commenting goals. Never.

Okay, back to the subject lines from the Captain:
6 emails had OMG! In the subject line.
2 emails had YOUR MOM in the subject line. (I didn’t go back and read them, but I assume he was talking smack about my mom which is unfortunate because my mom is an occasional reader of his blog. It’s even more unfortunate that I have become cyber friends with the Captain’s mom.)
8 emails had YOUR PACKAGE in the subject line.
3 emails had MY PACKAGE in the subject line. (I did not dare look at any of these.)
12 emails had no subject line but in the body of the email, the Captain simply wrote what he had for lunch or dinner.
7 emails simply had NEED HELP! in the subject line. (Boy, did he ever.)
In 1 email he quoted Vanilla Ice lyrics to both me and Jeremy. (Jeremy now has a serious man-crush on him.)

In the end, I didn’t have the heart to delete any of these emails, so I gave the Captain his own folder in my organization system titled 'Dumbass'. I did this not because I’m sentimental, but because some of them have some good dirt that I will use on him later. And since times are tough, I’m accepting bribes from anyone (including you, mom) who would like to harass the Captain.

P.S.: This post didn’t start out as a ribbing (tribute) to Captain Dumbass, but it sure did end up that way.

P.P.S.: Way back in November, before my break, I promised a few other fellow bloggers that I would spotlight them. I haven't forgotten. You'll get yours next week.

P.P.S.: Wow, that came off a little threatening. Sorry.