a paranoiac's take on Google phone number verification
but in case i might get to say "I TOLD YOU SO, refer to diary entry of May 2012 and EAT IT you anus" here goes-- i've avoided giving the google gods my number for months now i grew up under surveillance when my dad worked for important, evil saudis a decade of phone/email/life tapping tends to stick with you so i figured, they're asking--not demanding--which means i can say no. my number is mine. step off almighty email beings. today the digital deities informed me: someone from poland is trying to access your account!!! don't worry though--we were clever enough to stop them because it seemed suspicious that you'd want to check your email in poland... and would somehow be too drunk to remember your password. (i'm paraphrasing a little) they go on: 'okay, sheesh' i say 'i'll get right on that--after i finish my sandwich' it was warm. cold sandwiches are sad. anyway, *NOT THREE BITES INTO THE THING* BOOgle: YOU IDIOT!!! The polish hacker was just here! Here! Touching your stuff, reading your pathetic, embarrassing poetry drafts and sending emails to people who now think you sell penis enlargement pills and/or flash your snatch via webcam for a small fee! WAS THE WARM CHEESE WORTH IT?! *after dislodging the cheese from my windpipe, ripping open my chest and massaging my heart back to life* i clicked on the link they (almost too) conveniently provided for changing passwords except i didn't get to the 'change password' page, i got to this fancy shmancy GIVE US YOUR NUMBER OR DIE page i shakily handed over my number and wiped the tears off my keyboard, mumbling, THINKING...thinking, 'yes, safety, for my own safety, would you like my medical records too? i have those around here somewhere, no? how about i give you a family member? a small sex act? I WANT SAFETY NOW' i typed in their little code without so much as a thank you thank you for giving away something you're reluctant to give hot men in a cafe because you worry they're the 'i like to call and breathe heavily at 2 am' type thank you so EAT THAT anus from the future where we're all listening to ads mid phone call and getting 'disappeared' more efficiently now that stolen information about us is so wonderfully synced or you know, take into account the weird childhood before you measure up that straitjacket... okie i'm done. :) |