Several years ago I dated a girl who did a lot of modeling in the Goth Scene in Miami.  We dated only for a short period of time (about two months) but one of my favorite stories comes from it.

New Years eve of 2003/2004 (meaning going from 2003 into 2004) we decided to go the standard Goth/Industrial club in Miami for a Wednesday night, the Morgue.  We arrive about 11 or so and, surprise!  It's almost pitch dark inside.  We walk around, converse with everyone and while she drinks, I stay sober.  Pretty much par for the course at this time in my life.  The ball drops, elsewhere though because the club didn't have one and everyone celebrates.  We kiss, wish each other a happy new year; almost all is well.  There is only one problem:  We're bored.

It just so happens that one of our friends is hosting a night in the Design District on this fine New Years Eve (Day?) so we decide to jump ship over to it.  So we begin to make our way through the sea of black towards the door, picking up two stragglers along on the way, Alanna and Tania.  We all decide to head out so we hop in my (then) girlfriend's car.  I drive since I'm sober and we start making the 15 minute trek. 

We start going US1 northbound and Laura (girlfriend) pops in some tunes.  "Oh joy, goth music…" I think to myself but I am pleasantly surprised: Led Zepplin.  We start to rock out and Laura proclaims her love in a very 1960's hippy fashion.  That means one of three things.

1) The Xanax she took is kicking in.

2) She's drunk.

3) Possible combination of both (most likely of the three).

I just laugh to myself as she continues on and on regarding his voice and the guitars and the blah blah blah blah blah.  I honestly tuned it out after the first 2 or 3 minutes.

We reach downtown and hit deadlocked traffic.  DAMNIT.  I don't want to hear anymore of this shit.  I just want to arrive so the sounds of hard industrial can echo throughout my ears… 

Fast forward about 30 minutes and we arrive at the venue just because nothing of interest happened.

I park, lock the doors and we all go in.  We party, listen to good music and Laura keeps drinking.  Another hour or so and we go to leave.

As we step outside I notice something not right with the car, though I can't place my finger on it.  I go to open the door for Laura and I see it.  The from passenger side tire is flat.  "Odd,"  I think to myself.  "That wasn't like that before."  Not to worry though, as I know how to change a tire.  Srsly, how manly am I?  All man, that's how manly.

I pop her trunk and start looking for the tools needed but, lo-and-behold, there is nothing.  She has no jack and no tire iron.  This is shaping up to be a long night.  I explain the situation to the ladies and start making phone calls to friends who work for towing companies, hoping one will be in the area.  An hour later: no results.

I lift my phone to begin calling a few more prospects when I see 3 figures coming out of the shadows.  One tall and skinny, one my height and built, and one short and skinny.

"Oh fuck," I think to myself.  "We're gonna get robbed…"

I look from side to side searching for some reason other than us that they could be walking to…  Nothing.  Just wind rustling in the trees and the faint sound of overplayed synth-pop coming from the "club."  I look over to Laura who starts flipping out.

"Oh my god, we're gonna get robbed.  They're going to kill us.  OMG OMG OMG."

Thoughts of being stabbed because of her freaking out start to parade through my head.  And not just parade quietly; no, no, no.  I mean marching band, procession of cars, and floats kind-of-parades.  I politely (read: not politely) tell her to shut the fuck up and get in the car.  If I get stabbed or something, then call the police.  She reluctantly agrees to do what I asked.

I turn from her to face the three people walking up when I hear the door close and the locks engage.  "Fuck, there goes my escape if I need one."  I turn back towards the men and one speaks up.

"You got a problem?"

"Yeah, she's got a flat and she doesn't have a tire iron or jack.   She's got a donut though but it does us little help right now."

"Well, I got a jack and a tire iron for my BMW down the block, you want me to grab it so we can see if it fits?"

I'm dumbfounded.  This is working out nothing like I expected.

After a few seconds, I finally stammer "Um… sure?"

He disappears back down into the darkness of the street while the other two stay with me.  The one who is my height looks like the incredible hulk if he was the star of a 1970's Blacksploitation style of movie.  Looking at him, I realize I wouldn't like him when he was angry.  He speaks up asking us what we were doing.

I smile and tell him that we were at the club and just going home.  We make some more small talk before their friend gets back with a tire iron and a jack.  He is thanked and I get to work by jacking up the car and attempting to loosen the lug nuts which does not go well.  I try for about 5 minutes before Black Hulk (his new name) asks if I need help.

I slowly step off of the tire iron (I was standing on it trying to break the lug not free) and say sure.  He reaches over and breaks it free with no problems.  I probably turned whiter than I already am.  He broke it free…  without trying… one handed, while I was jumping up and down on it and not getting anywhere.  I'm starting to get a little scared of the power he has.

He continues on.  SNAP.  SNAP.  SNAP.  Breaking the lugs free without any hint of exertion.  He stops on the final one.  Now he is trying.  It's not breaking free and he is straining himself.  The two other guys continue talking while my eyes are fixed on the tire iron.  He is pulling so hard the tire iron was actually BENDING.

The fear then hits me: this man could rip me in half if he wanted to.

I speak up and ask if I could try.  He looks, laughs and backs away.  I walk over, get a grip on the tire iron and position myself.  I begin to pull back when the lug breaks free.  I fall back onto my ass.  I look up and the three of them start laughing, which was pretty funny.  I was able to break it free while he couldn't.  I let them know he loosened it and switch out the tire.

As I finish I thank them all and hand back the tools wishing them a happy new year.  Black Hulk knocks on the window where Laura was sitting, buckled in waiting to go home.  She looks up terrified and in tears.

Startled, he jumps back asking what the hell was wrong with her.  I let him know that she is on xanax and has been drinking so she is kind of messed up at the moment.

He looks back to the car, then at me once again.

"Can I fuck with her?"

I think about everything.  The outcome of the night if I say yes vs no.  Sex vs No Sex.  Then, I say fuck it.

"Go ahead, you guys deserve it since we would still be stuck here without you."

He leans over to the window again, knocking lightly.  Laura, once again, looks up terrified and in tears.  Black Hulk looks at her with the most angry face I've ever seen and lunges towards the door.   Laura freaks out and jumps, with the seat belt on, to the drivers seat horrified.

We all begin laughing hysterically.  It was well worth the lack of sex that night and I honestly felt like I owed it to them.  I thanked them all again, and jumped in the car to drive back.

For some reason, I really don't remember if I was yelled at for letting them do that.

Last week I decided that I should buy a laptop for play purposes though the chances of me using it for that are slim.  While browsing and reading up on certain laptops, the Dell Mini 9 and Asus EEE PC struck me as fun little machines so I ordered the Asus, with the Dell being delivered to me for some work I had done for Nextek Technologies. 

Well, today the EEE PC from Asus was delivered to my house.  Let's take a look.

Damn this thing is small unless that's Andre the Giant's zombie hand.  Well, how small can it be?  Eh, doesn't matter anyway; let's turn it on.

A very nice start up graphic.  Simply, nothing fancy.  I likes it.  (Yes, the "s" is supposed to be at the end of it, damnit.)

Hmmmm… even the Linux based operating system seems very simply, dumbed down for Windows users, I'm assuming.  Very easy to navigate and east to work with.  A+++++++

Now, let's see how it compares in size to my other laptop that I already have.

That's my Dell Latitude X300 on the left and the Asus on the right.

Here are the specs on the X300:

• Intel Pentium M 738 (1.4 GHz) Processor
• 256MB PC2100 DDR Memory (1152MB Maximum)
• 30GB 4,200rpm Hard Drive
• 24x CD-RW Combo Optical Drive in D-Bay External Drive Unit
• 12.1" XGA LCD Display and Intel Extreme 2 Graphics with 64MB of Shared Memory
• AC'97 Audio
• v.92 56Kbps Modem, 10/100 Ethernet and Dell 802.11b/g Wireless
• Two USB 2.0 Ports, One Firewire Port, One Type II PC Card Slot and SD media Card Slot
• 10.8" x 9.2" x .9" @ 2.9 lbs.

And it is still massive over the size of the Asus EEE PC.  Now, just for size comparison; the X300 has a screen that is about 3 inches smaller than MOST laptops, so the EEE PC is ultra small, with only an 8.9'' screen.

Oh yeah, we got a little laptop porn action going on.  Super Ultra Portable on Ultra Portable.  Wow-chica-wow-wow.  Some nerd out on the Internet is undoubtedly going to be aroused by this.

Another size comparison using my portable DVD player:

Findings this week:

1) I found out that my hair, when up, will stay still at 80 miles an hour.  Fucking awesome.
2) I have a Sidekick II that works.  Didn't know this until today.

So there I am, cornered by a sea of red.  Slowly closing in on me, I feel claustrophobic.  It's as if the wall of water in the red sea is closing in on me and I am Moses, only it's not water.  It's people.  People I have never met before yet I have problems with.  Specs of black start appearing in the wall of red like acne on the face of a teenager.  I hear springs loading, this is the end.  This is how I die, all because I am an honorary member of the crips.  I think back to how it all began.

Let's flash back 2 years, shall we?

Berto, James and myself decide to hang out and get a soda so we go to our local watering hole, 7-11.  We get our sodas, step outside and start doing what we do best; being asses.  People are walking in and out of 7-11 and we are making fun of them.

An amazing car pulls up.  The driver gets out and we start ragging on him.

We imagine how he managed to explain how he wanted his car painted.  Cue the Wayne's World dream sequence sound:

"Aight man, I got this hot idea for a paint job on my Grand Prix."

"Ok sir.  How would you like it done?"

"Check this shit.  I want baby blue from the back to the front.  On the very front though, I want pastel pink flames.  Shits hot, ain't it?"

The man just stares.  And stares.  And stares.  Then begins pointing and laughing.

"Oh man!  You almost had me there for a second.  I thought you were serious!"

End dream sequence.

Seriously, how do you explain that and think it will look good?

The man goes in, makes his purchase and leaves.  It's rather uneventful for the next few minutes.  Then we hear the manager yelling at two kids.

"I don't want you on the property anymore!  Get out!"

"Man, we called a cab.  We just waiting now.  Chill out."

"No!  You get off the property."

I feel bad for the kids, so I walk over to them.

"You guys need a ride?"

"Yeah man, that would be cool."

"Ok, give me one second to pull up my car."

As I walk away, I begin to smile.  It feels nice to help someone out.  I walk up to Berto and James.

"I'll be back in about 30 minutes.  I'm gonna take someone home."

They have a confused look on their faces.  "Where is he going?  His phone didn't ring."  These questions and more are running through their mind.

I get in my car and pull around front to pick up my passengers.  As they step in, my phone starts ringing.  I look down at the caller id.  Berto.  "What does he want," I think to myself.

"Hello."

"Did you just pick up those two kids?"

"Yeah, why?"

"Am I on speaker phone?"

He's not, but I turn down my phone volume all the way, just in case it's still audible to the other passengers. 

"No.  Why"

"Those kids are members of the crips!"

"How do you know?"

"James and I were playing basket ball with them earlier and they were talking about how they were crips and their friend got shot."

I'm a bit worried now.  Will I end up in a ditch somewhere while my fly ride is stolen?  Will my near-irreplaceable collection of cd's be jacked? Some how I am doubting that these kids will be rocking out to Hypnoskull, Die Sektor, or Terrorfakt after this night is through.

"So where are you guys going?"

"Pembroke and 441."

"That's kind of far.  What brings you guys out here?"

"We were visiting a friend in the hospital."

I nearly bust out laughing.  I'm even more scared now.  I'm going to be shot because this is funny to me.

Against my best interest, I ask my next question.  "Why was he in the hospital?"

I already know the answer.  I am almost in tears, but not from fear; from holding in laughter. 

"He was shot."

I nearly spit soda all over my windshield.  Now I am screwed.  That was audible.

"Bless you," the one in the back responds.

Thank you, Jebus!  He thought I had sneezed and not that I was laughing at his friend being in the hospital from a gunshot wound.

"Thanks."

I'm getting close to 441 on Pembroke Road when the one in the passenger seat speaks up again.

"Turn left here."  And I do.

"Turn right up here."  Once again, I follow the instructions.

He tells me that we're at the place so I stop the car.  They both get out and he fumbles around in his pocket for a bit outside the passenger window.

"Fuck.  I'm gonna get shot," was my first thought.  It was immediately followed by "Damn.  I thought my life was supposed to flash in front of my eyes."

He starts pulling his hand out of his pocket and I wince.  You know that scene in Snatch, the one where Tommy, Turkish and Mickey are about to get shot and the voice over is played over the freeze frame?

"Have you ever crossed the road, and looked the wrong way? A car's nearly on you? So what do you do? Something very silly. You freeze. Your life doesn't flash before you, 'cause you're too fuckin' scared to think – you just freeze and pull a stupid face."

That's what it was like.  Only, I didn't die.  I wasn't shot.  I wasn't stabbed.   They are offering me 20 dollars.  I slowly pull free of the stupid face, cautiously looking over to the two men outside my car when I realize I can't see them outside of my car.    There are no street lights where we are and no house lights.  It's nearly pitch black.

I am hesitant to reach out because of horror movies.  This is not the way to go.  I long ago accepted my fate as not dying of old age.  I know I will be shot, but I didn't think it would be this early in life. 

What should I do?  Should I reach for the money at the possibility of having a nub afterwards?  That could be cool.  I could be like hero Ash and take on the Deadites with a chainsaw attachment.  Should I just not worry about the money?  If I don't I still might be alive after this.  Just think of how much more stuff I can pick up with two hands!  I can pick up twice as much!

I decide against taking the money, not because of the above reasons, but for the obvious one.  I drive stick and the hand I would lose would be the one I shift with.

I go to speak up when one of them interrupts:

"Wait a minute, what the fuck am I doin'?"

He pauses…

"Nah, nah.  Thanks man," he says as he re-offers the 20 dollars.

"You know what?  Don't worry about it.  There is no way that ride cost me 20 bucks in gas.  Have a good night guys.  I hope your friend get's better."

They both smile.  I know this because my eyes have finally adjusted to the dim light, not because of any joke you want to make.

Since that day, I have been an honorary member.  Cappin' bitches in red, hanging with Snoop Dogg, Petey Pablo and all of the other bad ass members.

Next on the hit list should be Redman.  Not because he is a Blood for sure, but because he has the word Red in his name. 

I was raised going to an Episcopalian church for preschool and Sunday school.  I met one and oldest friends there.  Numerous things were learned that would have been left unknown if I had not attended there.   It also allowed me to evaluate my belief structure.  Prior to my 8th or so birthday, I never questioned what I was told.  I simply took it as a part of life but soon enough the answer of "because" was unacceptable.

 There are three types of thought: Pathological, logical and psychological.  

• Pathological thinking does not see itself. When it starts to see
  itself, it dissolves, like a witch in water. Pathological thinking is
  mixed with emotion, and it is the (unrecognized) emotion that directs it.
• Logical thinking works without emotion. It works by comparison, yes
  or no, either/or. It seeks conclusion, decision between two opposing
  choices. It is impartial, non-subjective. It works like a computer,
  composed of bits, dissecting but never understanding.
• Psychological thinking is intellect in harmony with emotion.
  It is aware of itself.
  When that awareness vanishes, so does the cooperation of thought and
  feeling. Thought then becomes logical, pathological, or disappears
  entirely.

Depending on how you respond to certain things, your process falls into one of the above 3.  It was blatently obvious at a young age that mine was logical.

As stated before, "because" is not an acceptable answer.  It is a cop-out when there is no reason.  This goes against logic.  In logic, there is an answer for everything.

Pefect example:  The third law of motion; for every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction.

There is a reason for every occurance, whether it be delayed or instantaneous, there is a cause.   Because of this I've found it difficult to believe in a God.  I've searched numerous religions looking for one that speaks directly to me with no avail.  Too many similarities, too many questions left up to faith.

 That's what religion is.  It's faith.  A very brilliant man explained to Voltaire and his thoughts on Religion once.  This is a paraphrased version of what he said:

You have one of two paths to take; one for each possibility.  The two possibilities are 1) There is a god and 2) There is no god.    Say you choose path 2 (There is no god).  You go through life, not expecting anything and you die.  There is nothing.  It is over.  You have lost nothing.  But what if you went through path 2 and there was a god.  What do you lose, the ever lasting life and euphoria promised to you by following god.  Now say you chose path 1.  You go through life and you die.  There is nothing, no god, no afterlife.  What do you lose?  Once again, nothing.  But what if you die and there is a god.  You chose to follow His path.  You now have eternal life and happiness.  You still lose nothing but you gain everything.

So why not choose the path of god regardless?   Because of faith.  There is nothing that will let you know you chose the right path.   There is no sign saying "Walk this way!" with God giving you a thumbs up and reminding you that you went to the correct trail.  Why continue even though it is uncertain.  Because of faith.

 This is something I don't have in the spiritual sense.  I can't believe that some being created everything in the universe.  Logic begs the question: where did that being come from?  Something that cannot be answered. 

 This is not to say that I am an athiest; I'm far from it.  If I had to be labeled, it would be agnostic.  I do honor the possibility of a god because the big bang can't be explained by logic either.

I'll elaborate more on a later date.  I need to get some sleep. 

They didn't have any blurry pictures on a laptop with a nerd hitting a button labeled "enhance" until you could clearly see each of the individual hairs on my body.  They didn't show up 30 deep with assault rifles.  They didn't play bad-ass when talking to me.  They were regular people.

Now this is a story that I have been meaning to share with a wide audience because of how amusing it is but due to the length it was previously saved for in-person conversations.

Background:  A company I used to work for had struck a deal with another company, essentially outsourcing me, for coding.  We went to a meeting with the third party and he explained what was needed so I began to work on it.  As the projects he had assigned me were being finished, I kept him notified.  During this period, the third party continued to add more things to my workload and increasing the contract.  The final project took 2 weeks to finish because certain code had to be entirely rewritten in order to make it work the way he envisioned it.  He was notified of the completion and responded back saying "You didn't finish it.  I hired someone else because you were taking to long.  I changed the password on the account 2 weeks ago."

2 weeks prior would have been when he assigned the project to me, so it was highly unlikely.  I tried to login to the server with the information he provided; it still worked.  I checked the code; all my comments and annotations were there.  This was still my code on the server, no one else had modified it.

At this point, I decided to pursue legal options.  I began looking into my options, such as small claims court.  My boss was notified and was told it was being handled.

END BACKGROUND INFORMATION

I'm sleeping in, waiting on a phone call from a friend so we can get lunch when there is a knock on my window.

"Awesome," I think to myself; believing that my friend has arrived.  So I roll over to the window and slide open the blinds only to see 2 large men and 1 not-so-large man staring at me… while I am in my boxers.  Great way to start the day, huh?

The small one points towards the front door, so a pair of pants go on and a cigarette is put in my mouth as I make my way to the door.  Stumbling through my hall, I finally make it to the door, still more than half asleep.  Stepping outside into my first glimpse of daylight, my eyes squint to a near close so I can see.  I fumble around my pockets trying to find a lighter when they speak up.

"Good morning, Matthew.  I'm Special Agent Jason Knowles with the FC^3 and these are Agents Blah Blah and Blah Blah2 with the FBI"*

I stop looking for my lighter, look up to his face and say, "This is going to take a while, isn't it?"

He simply smiled and nodded.

I open the front door and let them inside.  Now, before anyone reading begins to comment about "You shouldn't have let them in your house!  NERD RAGE!  INTERNET LAWYER" and the like, be aware that I did nothing wrong and I have nothing to hide.  End of story.

So we all sit down on a couch and begin talking.  Well, by "we," I mean Jason and I.  The other two were kind of quiet.

"Can I get you guys a drink or a snack?"

"No, we're ok.  Do you know why we're here?"

"Not for sure, but I have an idea."

"Do you know 3RD_PARTY_NAME?"

"Yes, I did work for him and he refused to pay for it.  He owes the company I work for SUM_OF_MONEY."

"Oh.  He didn't tell us that.  We are here because his server was compromised."

"I can't say I'm surprised.  I'm sure he owes a lot of people money using the same method he used on me."

"Well, you're name appeared on one of the compromised pages."

"What do you mean?  Matt Johnson appeared on a page?"

"Do you go online by the name Phreakacid?"

"Yes, that's my AIM name."

"'Greets to BLAH, BLAH, BLAH, Phreak, BLAH BLAH and BLAH' appeared on the site."

Wait one second.  I am being investigated because the word Phreak appeared on a page?  That was absurd.  A phreak is a phone hacker.  It is very common to have phreak as part of an alias online so what other basis do they have?  Go into an IRC channel.  There will probably be an uncountable amount of username combinations with the word phreak.

"Ok…  so why are you here then?  Phreak is common in online aliases."

"Well," and he begins to explain.

Apparently, an email was taken the wrong way, which to them was admitting responsibility for something.

I begin to state my side of the story, referencing logs I keep of conversations I have online.

"Ok.  Since you know some of the background and have talked with several people, you probably also know that I wanted to pursue this guy legally from the beginning."

"Well, that's what we have been told."

The conversation continued for about 30 more minutes like this before they asked me to do something.  I told them I would think about it but I would like to have a cigarette because I was shaking worse than Michael J Fox.

"Are one of you guys going to come outside with me to make sure I don't run?"

One of the FBI agents stood up smiling and walked outside with me.

I open my car to grab a lighter and he peeks in.

"What do you have in here?"

"I got a 7 inch screen in the front, 13'' screen in the back, 1000 watt amp, 12'' sub, and a gamecube.  You wanna play?"

"Sure," he said chuckling.

So on goes the Gamecube and I hand him a controller.  We begin to play Smash Bros Melee and he chooses his character, Mario; his defeat has been predestined.

Match begins.  Stock.  5 lives each.  Hyrule Temple.

15 seconds in and he loses his first life.  The life lost is replaced by sweat on his brow.  30 seconds later, another life.  1 minute later, yet another.  He's dropping faster than an obese man's life expectancy upon walking into a McDonalds.

I glance over to see if he's paying attention to the match.  He is.  I notice his radio and my asshole side takes control.  I want to grab it and call for backup for him just so he has a chance.  Video Game Assault on a Federal Officer would be the call.  BAM.  End game.

Lives lost: Him – 5.  Me – 0.  I rule.  I just beat an FBI agent at a video game in my car.

As I  put everything away and continue to smoke my cigarette two more cars pull up.  A Dodge Caravan and a Ford Taurus, both light blue.  The occupants step out.  A large (in weight) woman and stocky man start walking up to me.  The woman has an FDLE uniform on so I know why they are here.

"What took you guys so long?" I asked.

"We were just talking to your boss.  Killing some time," the man responded.

"Cool.  Were you guys talking about the company?"

"Yeah, he was telling us about your clients.  You have some interesting ones," he responded with a smirk.

I knew immediately who he was talking about.  These people were fun, so I decided I would make them laugh.  "Did he tell you about NAME?"

"The one who runs the adult site, yes."

"Oh, did he tell you about fixing one of NAME's girl's computers," I ask.  His face changes from game face to genuine interest. I have him now.    Complete attention in the story, already ready to burst into laughter.

"NO!  He did not tell us this!  Did he get paid?!"

"Well, yeah, he fixed the computer and got paid."

"I mean, did he get PAID?"  As he finishes his statement, he does the arm thrusting in and out of his hand movement, implying sex.

I laughed, looked at him and said, "Yes.  He got paid that way too."

He busts out laughing.  The lady does as well.  I wait for 2 beats.  "And then the husband joined in."

Both of them stop laughing.  They look at me for a few seconds before laughing even more.

I finish my cigarette and we all go inside to meet up with the other agents (I'm like part of the gang now!).

Once reunited, we all sit and talk for a bit more.

"Well, we would like to thank you for talking with us, Matt.  You've been very helpful."

"Not a problem.  Do you guys want to take my laptop?  I mean, it has logs and everything of me saying I want to sue the guy."

"That would be great actually.  We would just need to image the drive and you would get it back in about 2 weeks," Jason says.

"That's fine.  Would you mind if I copied over some data so I could still work?   There are also some pictures that I would feel more comfortable deleting before you guys take it.  I know you can still recover them, but I just don't want pictures of my ex girlfriend being passed around the FBI office."

They laugh and the man in charge says it will be ok.

So myself and two agents walked into my room to grab my laptop.  I begin copying over data, first web files then the pictures.  Once the picture names start going across my screen, the man in charge stopped me.

"Woah, woah, woah.  What was that?  Open that up. Open that up."  He sounds like a little kid.

I sigh heavily.  "Are you serious?"

He's got the same look as he did outside.

I open up the picture and wait.  After a few seconds, I turn around to see him in a pose similar to The Thinker by Auguste Rodin.

"Nice," he says, giving me his approval.

I close out the window and continue copying.

I finish, shutdown my laptop and pass it over before going out to say goodbye to everyone.  As they are leaving, the large lady turns around.

"Stay out of trouble now, you hear?"

I laugh and yell back, "I didn't even do anything to begin with!"

Man, they were cool people.

Best part about the story?  I got an email 2 weeks later from an FBI email address congratulating me on the hotness of my ex girlfriend. 

Bastards.