Vanessa Fox. Nude.

It’s been a busy couple of weeks, and I’ve mostly been offline for the last week or so. I’ll likely be mostly offline for another couple of weeks, which I know, sounds like crazyville. If you’ve ever seen me walking around with my blackberry, you know that my biggest frustration with it is that it’s not connected directly into my brain so that I can just think in the direction of the blackberry rather than type into it and perhaps turn my eyes into giant widescreen monitors. See, the projection of the internet could be somewhat transparent so I could still see the rest of the world and I could fade out the display if I really needed to see beyond it a little better (you know, like if I were talking to you) or tune it brighter if I needed to concentrate more on the projection (like if I were reading your blog). It’s all about you. Really. (Possibly I’ve thought about this a little too much.)

So as you might imagine, being offline is a strange and alien world to me. But also, being offline may mean something a little different to me. It’s not that I’m not online at all. Let’s not be completely insane. I’m just saying I have moments of non-connectivity, which is odd enough.

I’ve had a few things going on (I know, that’s an understatement much like “that Leonardo Dicaprio guy had a sucky boat trip in that one movie”), but have been online enough to read my email. I cannot describe how much it all means to me. (Thanks so much to everyone who dropped me a line. I am back online now and can tell you thanks individually now too.)

One way to fix the email bankruptcy problem is to change jobs and lose access to your primary mail account. Despite all that talk about tossing it all out and starting over, losing that mail account was like losing an arm. Or like someone telling me I wasn’t going to be able to eat potatoes again for the rest of my life. I wanted to go back through everything and keep it all. What hadn’t I replied to? What was left undone? Whose words were to disappear into the blackness of the lost world of closed email accounts?

On the plus side, I have resolved to follow the advice of everyone I’ve ever met and figure out how to get things done so you can all experience a new me of prompt email replies! Really! It could happen!

However, if you do email me (address is on the about page) and you aren’t looking to tempt me with your artfully crafted spam mail, there are a few titles you should avoid. It’s sad because they are good, relevant titles, but you’ve just got to banish them from your mind as though these words don’t exist in your vocabulary. They’re passenger pigeons and dodos and sea cows (were too real). Don’t worry. I have also compiled a list of suggested replacements to help you out.

Congratulations!
I know, it may seem like the perfect thing to say to someone who’s experiencing life changes, but generally, the body of an email with this title starts with “you have won millions in a lottery that you didn’t enter, but someone put your name in because you’re such a cool person and just transfer us over the thousand dollars in processing fees and we’ll get right on sending your prize!”

Alternate titles

• Eh, I heard the news. Whatever.
• I hope you don’t go down in flames. Good luck or something. You’ll probably need a lot of it.
• What were you thinking?

Urgent! Please reply ASAP!
Makes perfect sense if your email is urgent right? You read about my avalanche of mail and want yours to stand out from the Hilton Honors newsletters. Sadly, if you send an email with this title, I can only assume that your parents died tragically and left you billions of dollars that you can only access through a convoluted bank transfer plan that somehow involves my savings account.

Alternate titles

• No hurry. Whenever you get to this is fine.
• I can wait. I have things to do anyway.
• What is it with people replying to emails right away? Sheesh. You’re clogging up my inbox. Space it out people.

I’ve seen your performance in bed, and clearly, you could use some pharmaceutical help.
Actually, this title is perfect as is. What’s your cheapest price?