Scam Artist

So, about two weeks ago (June 16, to be exact), I was sitting here at the kitchen table doing what I usually do in the mornings. For whatever reason, I was running behind, meaning, it was 10:00 or so and I was still messing around with this and that. It was pouring down rain (I think I might have been blogging about rain and random stuff). The doorbell rang. Frankly, I don't usually answer the door. I mean, chances are, it's not going to be anyone I really care to talk to. For whatever reason, though, I got up and answered the door this time.

A neatly dressed African American man was standing on the doorstep. He smiled politely at me and told me that he was one of my neighbors and that he'd foolishly locked his keys in his car, as well as his cell phone and wallet. He was wondering if he could use my phone to call his wife.

I said sure; told him I was going to go get my cell phone, and shut the door. When I came back out (and I stepped outside onto the doorstep with him), he called a number, waited a bit, then shook his head ruefully and said, "She must already be in the air. She's a flight attendant with Delta". I said, "Oh, sorry! We chatted a bit longer with him saying various things about the neighbors. I apologized for being a bit suspicious but told him there had been a robbery at the dollar store at the nearby shopping center and I'd just been reading about how the suspect was running around our neighborhood the day before. "You just have to be careful", I said, to which he nodded, agreeing with me. After a few more pleasantries, he said, "Well, I think I'll see if Mike around the corner is home, he sometimes goes into work late".

I told Mr. B about it and said, "I didn't really recognize him but he sure seemed to know everyone in the neighborhood".

Yesterday I was flipping through the local section of the paper and my eye caught on a picture of a man. The very same man who had rang my doorbell! Turns out he was a scam artist who had delivered the very same speech he gave to me to countless others in both Durham and Raleigh. Apparently, some of these folks naively let him into their homes at which point he stepped up the charade by asking for money for a locksmith. One guy actually drove him to his ATM to get money for the guy before realizing something wasn't quite right. What threw people off was a) he was well dressed and well spoken and b) seemed to know their neighbors. Turns out he canvased neighborhoods, looked into people's mailboxes to get their names/their neighbor's names, etc. Very cagey.

He's since been arrested but I have to admit to feeling sorta creepy about the whole thing, knowing he'd probably been watching our house, digging around through our mail (although he never did call me by name, come to think of it) etc. Thank God I am naturally suspicious of people (it NEVER dawned on me to let him into the house) and that Lucy, the big goof, was disobeying me that morning and came running over to the door. Chances are he wasn't terribly interested in entering a house with a big slobbery dog standing right there.

So, once again, it pays to be CAUTIOUS, folks. And, obviously, it makes sense to get to know your neighbors a bit so if someone comes to your door claiming to be one of them (and they are NOT), you can tell them bullshit, slam the door in their face, and dial 911!

Mrs. B

Mr. B-ism

My SIL's sister (does that make her my SIL once removed?) Melissa and now my SIL from time time (Analee) do this thing on their Blogs called "isms". Most of the time, they are telling (very cute) stories about their children. From time to time; the isms are about someone else.

Anyway, I've got a Mr. B-ism that I really want to share (even if it doesn't cast me in the best of lights).

So, yeah. Aging gracefully is something I continue to struggle with. Hey, what can I say? I'll admit it, I'm vain with a capital V (although this nasty condition has abated somewhat since I quit my career six years ago).

Anyway, in addition to always feeling fat (feeling is different from being but probably just as awful a condition for me), I've taken to noticing all the other wonderful signs of getting older, that, short of Botox or expensive cosmetic surgery, I'm really just gonna have to deal with them and be happy I'm healthy and have my sanity.

One that's caught my eye lately is what is known as "crepey skin". What this is, for those of you who are either a) young women and haven't yet experienced the horror of its arrival) or b) men (who don't notice things like this) is your skin, in certain places (probably varies by woman) looks like crepe paper. You know, the stuff used to make party streamers and such. It's just an unfortunate side effect of both getting older, and, if one has spent too much unprotected time in the sun, it's usually worse.

Of course, all the cosmetic and lotion companies out there know EXACTLY how stuff like this impacts women as, even Aveeno (a relatively low-key brand regarding targeting women's physical insecurities, unlike, say L'Oreal, who are constantly trying to sell women a dog that won't hunt) has a body lotion called "Positively Ageless". I saw an ad for this in a magazine and was browsing the list of problem areas it supposedly addresses within two weeks. One of them jumped out of the page at me; "Reduces the crepey appearance of skin" (or something to that affect).

Ok, I KNOW these products are bull shit. I KNOW it KNOW it KNOW it, but, yeah, I was hooked like a trout.

So, I bought a tube of it. Has it worked? Probably not because the areas my eyes jump to every time I look in the mirror still look the same. But, it's nice lotion, anyway.

Ok, I'm getting to my Mr. B-ism!

Ever since I've noticed this crepey skin syndrome, I have added it to my repertoire of complaints about my body; you know, along side of "I'm fat", "I feel fat", "I hate my hair", "I've got a Honky Tonk Badankadonk", that kind of stuff. Mr. B hears it all the time. He usually rolls his eyes and dutifully replies: "You are not fat". "Your hair looks fine". "I like your butt", etc.

However, this new one, "I look crepey!" apparently has had him a bit flummoxed as he's not said too much in response to it.

So, Saturday, on our way to Petsmart to show off The Greek Gang, I felt particularly gross. Don't ask me why I cared; I was going to Petsmart, not to a party or something!

Anyway, I was going through my litany of "I am, I feel, I hate, " etc.

Mr. B walks up to me, takes me by the shoulders, turns me around to look at him, gives me a sweet kiss and says kindly, looking deeply into my eyes:

"You are not fat!"

"You look just fine in those shorts!"

"I like your hair today!"

And, finally (here comes the "ism")

"You do not look creepy!"

I just looked at him for a second before it dawned on me; he thought I had been saying "I look CREEPY", not, "I look CREPEY".

I just busted up, then, I explained to him what I'd been saying (he still looked perplexed, but rolled his eyes again and shrugged).

So, now, I think, I should tell him, whenever I go through my routine, just simply answer, "You don't look creepy" and that'll probably set me to giggling and I'll forget the whole thing!

Mrs. B