Sure enough, Facebook Eagle doesn’t let you view private accounts in secret. I figured it was too good to be true. Especially for being free and legal. You still have to notify the person. But why bother when you can just send them a friend request?

Tammy finally checked out my journal, along with Maliheh, and my parents have been married 59 years. I tried to call them, but thanks to our shitty connection, Dad said I was breaking up, and so I said I’d get back to them. Dad seemed really worried about us being affected by fires, but California’s pretty much always on fire, LOL. Mother Nature and arsonists do a fine job of seeing to that. There have been no fires around here, but as I told him, “Relax, Dad. Half the state’s on fire just about every single day.”

Speaking of connections, Tom finally got them to realize there’s a problem and they’ll be out next Wednesday. It’s a long time to lose even more money and not be able to list things on eBay, but you know something up there loves to interfere with us making money every chance it gets.

I’m glad my stats chart didn’t scare Maliheh off, but I realize there’s always a chance she didn’t get the email about it. It’s unlikely, but it is possible. That much I have no way of verifying. Even so, I thought I would complain in my blog about the stats “disappearing.”

I just hope she and Tammy could read the damn thing. They were down last night for a couple of hours and Andy said my blog is fun to read, but it was hard to read with the floral background.

But the background should be solid white! I checked today and all seems to be working the way it should be. I hope they don’t have regular problems. Part of why I switched to them was for the reliability.

I just wonder what Maliheh’s game is. She either wants me to think it’s her communicating with me, or she’s got something else in mind, and the only thing I can think of is the revenge theory where she’s hoping for an excuse for vengeance. But why has she blocked me on MySpace but not Facebook?

As I’ve said before, I’m proofreading old journals. And right now I’m in Arizona in 1993, living next to Andy in my little 400-square-foot studio apartment with a bitch next store who couldn’t shut up. Oh, the pranks we used to pull together, and I don’t mean just on the phone! When our birthdays would come around, we’d go to all the Denny’s we could and collect free desserts. Once, I was one waitress’s total nightmare when I shoved an open, upside-down bottle of ketchup into some uneaten food, along with our cigarette butts, since we both smoked back then. We’d loosen salt shakers and do all kinds of shit.

One night Andy and I went to a restaurant called Mother Tucker’s, which we, of course, called Mother Fuckers. Supposedly, he had a coupon and we were going to split a steak and shrimp dinner. We ended up having to wait forever for cold, uncooked food, and we walked out with me hitting on the gorgeous hostess. I don’t remember hitting on the hostess, though, or even what she looked like.

The closest I come these days to being a “prankster” is that I sometimes play with scammers and spammers that show up in my inbox. I’ll reply with the link to my journal, some journal/story excerpts, and things like that. In fact, I just got another “Dear Friend” message with someone wanting me to cash a bogus check for them, and my reply was, “If any other student contacted me right now and said they were attracted to me or told me anything else I promised not to write about, they might as well be telling me they liked the color of my shirt for all I would care.”