The Dirty French
My husband is tucked away in Wyoming with access to a computer and he sends me e-mail frequently. All of his messages are signed with a digital signature and each time I try to open one of them at work I read the following error:
The digital signature on this message is invalid because the message contents were altered after the message was signed.
I have it on good authority that he is not altering his messages after they are signed.
I clicked around a little in my Outlook only to discover that I am not authorized to attach a digital signature to my outgoing mail, nor do I have the authority to encrypt my outgoing e-mail. National security takes the fun out of everything.
Quel suprise.
Which reminds me... We have a cappuccino machine in the galley that produces a warm frothy beverage that in no way resembles cappuccino. The brew is available in three flavors: mocha, Irish cream, or Freedom Vanilla - the words printed atop a waving American flag.
I used to own a copy Top Gun on VHS and when I was a kid I would pop it in, fast foreword to the steamy love scene, and get warm between the thighs. Do you think Tom Cruise and Kelly Magillis were freedom kissing?
I don't. It's nowhere near dirty enough to be any fun.
posted by Jessica at 06:12
3 Comments:
Freedom Vanilla? The sound just makes me nauseous.
Whatcha reading these days?
I am about to start The Double Life of Alice B Sheldon who wrote under the name James Tiptree, Jr.
She wrote science fiction, was in the Army, worked as an analyist for CIA then in an act of mercy killed her husband when he was ill and then took her own life.
Should be good reading while Mercury is in retrograde.
I just started a book about the influenza outbreak of 1918. It's estimated that anywhere from 50-100 million people died from it world wide. Crazy. The book is awesome.
I was going to give fiction a shot, but I just wasn't feeling it. I did read some short stories by Raymond Carver. Talk about depressing. Very sparce writing, great dialogue, but super depressing. I had to put it down for a while.
My grandfather was ill with it as a teenager and it just so happened a black doctor was travelling through town and nursed him back to health. Wild stuff.
I have a diary from an old house in Oxnard from 1918. Says one day Harley took the flu, sold Sally some eggs. Next entry Harley died. Sold a buck.
Went to Solvang today and bought myself a loom. Now if I could just figure it out. :-)
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