Sign Me Up for SPAM! NOT!

Image by brizzle born and bred via FlickrI am an admitted "sign me up now" junkie.

It's sad really. I can't help it.

Evidently there is some sort of camera on my computer that allows internet businesses to hone in on the "SUCKER" stamped across my forehead. I'm minding my own business, browsing through the internet, (usually late at night when I'm drowsy and my common sense is snoozing) when I see some ad that promises youth, wealth, beauty, brilliance, creativity-- "and all for FREE". Wow! All that for FREE??? Sign me up!

And in goes my email address. And I'm signed up. For life.

Despite the fact that all these great offers promise you they "won't share your private information" and that "you can unsubscribe at any time," I have the sneaky feeling that they might be LYING!

Not only do I get solicited via email for stuff I would NEVER, EVER sign up for, when I try to unsubscribe, I usually end up jumping through a series of hoops which never get to that magical "Thank you. You are now unsubscribed." In fact, I'm pretty sure that when I try to unsubscribe, it is actually just subscribing me to additional lists.

The worst part? It's my own fault!

But really- Who doesn't want to lose 35 pounds in 14 days by following one simple tip? Who doesn't want to get free designer hand bags and shoes you get to test and keep, and only have to fill out a short survey to help the manufacturer? Who wouldn't want to clip coupons so valuable that the supermarket will have to pay you to take the groceries? Of course I want a free iPad, iMac, iPhone and iPod for simply completing offers from two sponsors.

I am a glutton for punishment and an advertiser's dream come true.

The result of all these impulse mouse clicks is an email inbox stuffed to over-flowing every time I turn on my computer.

I almost need a little shock system installed in my computer keyboard that zaps me when I initiate a certain series of key strokes that are required for almost every smoozy deal out there.

What is your name?

Key Stroke: K-R-I  **ZAP**

See? Sign up aborted; Junk email avoided.

*sigh*

If it were only that easy....

For now, I guess I'll continue to get email offers: for diapers, although my youngest child is 9; for AARP membership, even though I'm not even 45 yet; and for everything in between...

You know, maybe there's a course or a self-help book that would help curb my impulse clicking. I think I'll see if I can sign up for a blog or free offer...

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Those Crazy Kids

Image by megnut via FlickrWhen I was in my teen-aged years and I referred to "kids," I was referring to little tykes, who were still losing baby teeth that would be rewarded with Tooth Fairy money.

In my late twenties, I worked in elder care. Most of my clients referred to me as a "kid." I was highly insulted. I was not a "kid;" I was a young adult. I had a college education. I considered myself to be quite worldly.

Once I had children of my own, my personal definition of "kids" spanned from infant to the tween years. I didn't quite consider "teens" to be kids, because I was still smarting from being called a "kid" at twenty-seven. And, also, teens didn't seem to quite fit the bill for being a kid. "Kids" were dependent, trainable, happy-to-be-around-their-parents sorts of people. Teens were moody, cocky and mumbled a lot. In many ways, I forgot I had ever been a teenager myself.

Now, in my VERY early forties (in fact, I would say much closer to thirties, really), I realize that I was ever so naive to believe I was worldly at twenty. HA. It was like saying that because I had been to a rodeo, I was a champion bull rider.

I also have come face-to-face with all my transgressions and accomplishments as a teenager, because my children who are teens themselves have started delving into my personal history:

"Mom, when you were my age, did your mom make you clean the bathroom?" Why, yes she did.

Of course some of their questions definitely show the technological and social leaps and bounds that have occurred since I was their age.

"Mom, did your mom let you play with your iPod in bed before you went to sleep?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because we didn't have iPods."

"Seriously? What did you DO???"

"Well, I listened to my cassette tapes and read books."

"Oh, that's awful. I'm so sorry."

Certainly my definition of "kids" has changed, too. Now I DO include teenagers. In fact, I now include those younger twenties people who believe themselves (as I did) to be worldly because they have a checking account and don't live at home any more.

I am amused at myself as I see me shift from one side to the other. I was once on the side that believed anything after twenty-five was dead. Now I don't rule out anything under 100.

I am firmly in the middle of "middle aged," though I prefer to see the glass as half-full, instead of half-empty. But I'm also realistic enough to know that I am too old to wear teen aged fashions, and (thankfully) too young to qualify for AARP discounts.

I am also at an age where I appreciate being carded for drinks, having the doctor say, "you don't need to worry about that yet," and having older people lump me in with "kids." I guess it's all just perspective.

My grandmother turns ninety-five today. When I'm my parents' age, she'll be the kind of person I want to hang around every so often, just so I can be called a "kid" again.

Happy Birthday, Ooma, to the youngest ninety-five year old "kids" I've ever known!

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