Julie’s Jabber: My Email Spam Box Thinks I’m a Sex Addict

email inbox 00111 Julies Jabber: My Email Spam Box Thinks I’m a Sex Addict

I have to empty my email spam box once a day and I’m always appalled by the stuff that’s in there. Apparently, there are women from all over the world who are dying, I tell you just DYING to hook up with me. I don’t recall ever meeting these people but they always address me as if we were in a prior conversation that was interrupted.

“Hey, it’s me. Are you looking for a sexy good time?”

Well, I’m not but if you’re really bored I’ve got some closets I need cleaned out. Also, why do I keep finding emails about enlarging my penis in my Spam Box? I have possessed all kinds of crazy things in my life but THAT is not one of them. Furthermore, if I DID have a penis I would LIKE it to be small and easy to tuck into a one-piece bathing suit.

I got an email today from “hot married women” who were looking for a good time. What exactly happens there? Is it sex with a woman in a stained sweat-shirt who keeps whispering, “SHHHH, the kids can hear you.” There’s a market for that?

So why is my email Spam Box talking so much trash to me? Friends have said it’s because of my radio job, where I’m required to research all kinds of strange things. While that may be true, I also research bear attacks, Big Foot and states where it’s legal to eat road-kill, but I haven’t seen an increase in THOSE emails. I just get lots and lots and LOTS of dirty-sexy-fun-time emails. Why?

I can only assume it’s because they work. I imagine my sweet, unsuspecting father, who is also a computer novice, staring into his Spam Box. What if he started getting “Hey Sexy” emails from some woman he’d never met named Addison? Would he write her back? He would HAVE TO, right? If anything, just to find out why she keeps calling him “Cowboy.”

So, as long as people keep responding to these nasty emails, I guess I’ll just have to keep deleting them from my Spam Box. But…maybe I SHOULD write back to those hot married chicks. After all those wild nights with random lonely dudes, I bet cleaning out my closets would look like a Spa Day.


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