The Outing of Jennifer Juniper

I promised this story to Aunt Crazy when she complained about not being able to email replies to my comments.

I could also have titled this:

"Shit You May Have To Go Through If You Want To Be My Friend"

Here you go Aunt Crazy. Just for you because I love you that much.

And also because it's amusing as hell. If you're not me at the time.

I took Oliver to the doctor a few weeks ago for some chest pains he was having (he's fine - it was a bruise, nothing cardiac) and while we were in the waiting room I decided to catch up on my family blog reading, since they had actually posted which they never do.

There were some pictures of a recent home improvement project over at #2's house and I went to comment about how cute it was, typed in my hotmail address and password and..

*GASP*

Jennifer Juniper popped up as the Google ID.

delete delete delete!!!!

You cannot open a popup window because you already have one open

NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Fuck.

What to do?

What to do??

What the fuck am I going to fucking do??

Diva Chels is at work. No computer.

Cara & Connie are blogger illiterate.

Fuck me.

Fuck me running with a sword.

I know you guys don't know #2 and Mrs. #2, but they're great. I love them to pieces.

However.

Mrs. #2 is more neurotic than I am (yeah, I know you didn't think that was possible), and her mother, who is one of my favorite aunts (from the other side of the family - it's complicated) sees conditions and problems where they aren't. Plus, Mrs. #2 is so innocent that I think I'd probably shock her with my blunt and snarkey ways.

#2 is as mellow as they come, and really kind of accepts me for who I am, but he's gotten close to Amara recently, and I don't think he really wants to hear me bash her like I do. And his parents, who I bow down in awe of, and adore, are almost too conservative to function, and hate it when I say "darn" in their presence.

So you can see why I wouldn't really want them as readers as much as I love them. If this shit got out, there'd be a big ole' come to Jesus family meeting and JJ would be one pissed off camper.

Also keep in mind that Amara, my bitch of a sister, with the lazer beam eyes and the nails of steal and the heart of stone was the comment right before mine.

Where was I??

Oh yeah.

Fuck me running with a multi-twigged branch.

Miley.

Miley's unemployed.

Miley's TOTALLY blogger literate.



Me: Are you at home?

Miley: Yes.

Me: I'm fucked.

Miley: eh?

Me: insert the whole explanation that I already gave you guys

Miley: ookay..

Me: So can you go log in and delete my comment??

Miley: Oh, yeah, no problem, what's your password?

Me: insert me telling Miley my ridiculously long and hacker-proof password

Miley sheesh, woman.. ok, I'll take care of it.


So I breathed a small sigh of relief.

Then I realized.

When someone posts a comment on my blog, I get an email.

And in that email, if I click on their name, it goes to their profile.

That's when the text messages started flying.



Miley: Done.

Me: Does it say who deleted the comment??

Miley: Nope - I went back and checked.

Me: God I hope he doesn't have it set up to email him about comments but it probably does and then I'm totally fucked!!

Miley: Nah you'd be ok. I think. I'll tell you what it looks like, I don't think there's a link to a site.

Me: But it says who left the comment and they might go digging.

Me: Does it have their profile pic??

Miley: Eh go change your user name real quick?

Me: I'm all fucking paranoid now!!

Miley: Calm down hon.

Miley: No pic.

Me: No. I'm not going to let nosy family members make me change my blog stuff.

There was more. But mostly it boiled down to us deciding that there was indeed a link in the emails and Miley agreeing to go take down all the identifying information from my profile and making it private for awhile so that at least they wouldn't be able to follow it back to link up to the blog. Because while I can do that from my phone, it's a pain in the ass.

And that, my dear Aunt Crazy is why you couldn't reply via email to my comments, but no longer, my profile is back for your viewing pleasure and reply to your heart's content.



By the way, I saw #2 this weekend and he did get the email, did know it was from me, and said he doesn't care, and insinuated that he'll keep Mrs. #2 off my back. We'll see.

Either way, I've decided that I don't care. If the family wants to come and read the blog that I didn't tell them about, that I don't particularly want them to read, then let them.

Maybe we'll weed out some of the dickwhistles, fucktards and douchecanoes and then at least my Christmas list will be shorter.