Aw. Now I'm getting notices from Gmail that I have requested my password be reset. Legitimate, non-phishing ones. One of my planetclaires must be trying to figure out why they can't login to my email account.

Because it's mine’s, bishes.

I think my planet has a birthday coming up. Hang on, lemme check. Just play the Jeopardy! waiting music in your head momentarily. I'll be back...

June 5th. Planet Claire will eight years young on June 5th. I'm not sure what that is in planet years. But I'll have to throw some sort of party. If someone wants to get me something, there's that whole SUPPORT section on the site. Just sayin'. I mean, running a planet ain't cheap.

I'm still waiting for my Economic Stimulus Check, so that may go toward keepng this planet in orbit. Although I really think this check would be more aptly named the "Stave Off Foreclosure and/or Creditors" Check. Because it seems like that's the point where a lot of people in this country are. This money will be going to groceries and gas and rent, not toward an impromptu spending spree at Walmart.

Well hopefully not anyway. And not just because Walmart exists on one of Dante's circles of Hell.

I did however receive another check this week. A momentous check if you will. It was my 401k which is being taken away from the clutches of the psychopaths I worked for and placed in much more capable hands (i.e. not mine. I'm no good with money).

The slightly ironic part of the whole thing: starting right after I quit, every four to six months I would receive a phone call or email from someone at my old office asking for my home address. An address which, mind you, has not changed since before I quit. So they were apparently incapable of either tracking down my address in the database (a database I helped design, mind you, so I know it was in there and easily accessible). Furthermore, they were absolutely baffled as to how to keep that information on file in HR (a department I helped organize, mind you, so I know exactly where it should have been recorded and easily accessible).

At a certain point I believe I told them I had every confidence they could find it themselves if they would only take a moment to pull their finger out of their collective ass. I should have anyway. Talk about Dante's circles of Hell. They're wandering somewhere around the eighth.

Anyway, the same day I got this check that officially severed the last remaining link to that hellhole, I also received a letter informing me that they had entered my address into their database.

Thanks! Thanks ever so much!

But I am done with them forever. I leave them to their avarice and greed. I hope it serves them well when they are alone in their old age.

Well my lack of sleep finally caught up with me, smacked me on the back of the head, swore a few times (rather rudely I thought) and put me on a time out this afternoon. So today instead of working all afternoon I slept. It was a rather rainy day so it was a good time for it.

And since I promised my dear mother that I would not work at all on Mother's Day, this weekend I am officially off.

My brain must have thought this was a lovely idea as it has apparently gone on holiday as well. Hopefully it's someplace warm. And is planning on making it back by Monday.

So every once in awhile I wander around and see how my little planet is doing out in the world. And once in awhile I check the wildly inaccurate (for sites as small as mine) Alexa. And every time I do I am offered this awesome!! tee shirt illustrating just how small my site is. Who wants to wear a shirt that says "My site is beloved by almost no one! You should visit!'. I'm not paying for that sort of abuse.

But being that my brain is elsewhere at the moment I decided to explore the whole "tee shirt" idea a little further. Turns out you can customize them a little bit. Change a font, color, add text, etc. So here's my next purchase:

I like it. And am almost tempted to order it just to see if it would go through or be flagged or something.

Almost.

Happy Mother's Day.

And Happy 150th Birthday to my adopted home state. It doesn't look a day over 120.

The plot. It thickens.

Awhile back I made mention of my poor gmail account and how I was getting emails intended for some chick in Vancouver. You recall this? Yes?

Anyway, now it appears as though I am actually receiving emails intended for two entirely different Claires. And if I wasn't feeling guilty before... woo boy. To top it off, Vancouver Claire (the other appears to be Amsterdam Claire) is submitting forms to credit card companies inquiring about her account and using my gmail address as the reply-to address.

'The hell's the etiquette on that? "Pardon me, but you seem to have emailed me confidential information regarding your credit card. Could you... not? Thanks!" Well that would only work if I knew her actual email address I suppose. So sort of a flawed plan anyway.

Off to make some credit card purchases...

For the past... what? Week? I have been putting in 12 hour days on a website build for a) a musician client of mine and b) my own site. Well several of my own. I redesigned the Frank Lloyd Wright section on this site one morning when I couldn't get back to sleep. It was looking a little dated.

So I'm sort of burnt out. Although it's 8 am and all I can think of is starting work again to get things up before tomorrow. Oh well. That's neither here nor there.

You know what else is neither here nor there? This bumper sticker I saw the other day: "America: Love It or Saddle Up"

Which I don't quite get. Are those that dislike America supposed to form some sort of Equestrian militia? Because I really don't think that's helping anybody.

Okay, I have a dilemma. Well I have like eight at the moment. But this is the weirdest and least stressful one. So I'm putting this out there. Because I don't know what to do.

Here's the deal:

I woke up this morning and had a new text message on my phone. Didn't recognize the number or even the area code, but I thought it was perhaps a grumpy creditor or something. So I opened it.

To find a picture of male genitalia.

After the initial surprise and bemusement wore off, I thought about it for a minute (not the picture, mind you—that put me off eating for a few hours). I was initially inclined to delete it and chalk it up to a wrong number (it came in at 2 AM). Then I was inclined to mock it. But that would be too easy.

I checked out the number online (who the hell is daft enough to send pictures of their junk from an unblocked number?) and it appears to be an Iowa area code (although it may be a phone residing in Fairmont, MN depending on where you look).

So what to do? I don't feel like it's illegal because I'm over 18. And I don't feel like calling the number (or responding) in case it's some scam I'm not currently aware of. But I do feel like there must be consequences. Either for their stupidity or their douchebaggery. Whichever is more appropriate.

I have the phone number. I have the picture. But I don't have any good ideas. Thoughts, anyone?

So maybe a month or so ago I noticed that Ramona's water was getting really dirty really often. I found myself changing out her water ten times a day. Obviously Ramona was doing something to get her water dirty. Obviously.

But what?

At first I assumed she was smacking her paw into the water and that was causing it. But for some reason that didn't add up. Because I didn't think it accounted for exactly how dirty it was getting.

But Ramona is a cagey little thing, and every time I'd go into the kitchen to see what she was doing she'd already be on her way out, clearly aware that I was trying to sneak up on her.

So I bided my time, changed her water, and formulated a plan.

Which basically was me trying to go all stealth mode—camera phone in hand—and sneak into the kitchen when Ramona was in there. And it took a couple of tries but I totally caught her.

She just sits in the kitchen with her paw in the dish. Just sits there, not a care in the world. With a wet paw. And I mean sits. Comfy as can be.

No wonder my floors have cat prints all over them.

Ah well. She's an odd one. And getting up there in years.

In related news, I've had to pay attention to my car gauge dealies lately because the temp gauge keeps threatening to wander into the red. It does this periodically. And every time I take it in and mention it they don't seem to believe me. Because there is nothing wrong when I take it in.

But that's neither here nor there. Point being, I noticed that my sweet little car was about to reach 70,000 miles.

So I had to document it.

And when I took the picture my temp gauge was in the red, but if you look at the picture, it looks like it's fine. That's how tricky my car is!

Ah, that's a lie.

My lack of creativity and general malaise prevents me from coming up with a decent April Fools Day gag.

Not to mention that I gave it a half-hearted attempt last year and the universe got the bigger laugh when I wound up gravely ill and in the hospital for an extended stay, unable to post that I was merely joking.

Damn you, Universe Irony!

Or maybe that's not irony. Whatever. It wasn't very funny.

So I am at least alive. That's awesome.

So is the irony mark (that image in the upper left corner). I had no idea they came up with a mark for irony a few years ago. I like it.