Muppet Wars

Two traders planning their A.M. market strategy.

TRADER #1:  The client just called. I transferred the muppet to the Investment Adviser’s assistant. She’s a muppet too.

ASSISTANT:  (on the telephone with client)  I’m sorry, but your trade has already settled.

CLIENT:  Cancel it.

ASSISTANT:  Um…The order was filled. I have the trade confirm right here.

CLIENT:  CANCEL IT.

ASSISTANT:  I already received the confirm. You bought 3,500 shares. The trade has already settled.

She reads from the confirm.

ASSISTANT:  A long buy of 3,500 shares at 37.75 per share.

CLIENT:  I didn’t know your firm has a short position in this stock. You didn’t tell me your firm is short this. I’m losing money on this while your firm is making money on this!

ASSISTANT:  Um…I’m sorry. I don’t understand this.

CLIENT:  You muppet! I want to talk to your boss, NOW. You get that Money Manager on the phone, NOW.

ASSISTANT:  I’m sorry George, but he’s not here right now.

CLIENT:  I’m not going to let you get away…

Trader #2 is listening in on the telephone conversation and he hears every word. He clicks off of the phone.

TRADER #2:  She’s still on the phone with Mr. Muppet. He got wind of our credit default derivative mortgage security shorts.

TRADER #1:  Fuck. How did he find out?

TRADER #2:  I don’t know —

TRADER #1:  Maybe his neighbor couldn’t pay his mortgage.

They both laugh.

TRADER #2:  …But, man is he angry!

TRADER #1:  Start listening in on all of that Assistants phone calls. Don’t let her know what’s going on.

The Investment Adviser has just returned and is standing with the traders.

INVESTMENT ADVISER:  If she finds out what’s going on we’ll have to kill her.

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Copycat

My cat curled up on my laptop keyboard. She is really jealous because I spend so much time looking at my computer screen and not her. She grabs my wrist with her little “cat’s paws” and bites my arm to get me off the computer.

She’s even more jealous when I talk on the phone instead of talking to her. She wants me to focus my attention on her.  And when I don’t I pay the price.

Probably because she is afraid of what I could be writing. What am I writing about? What am I saying? Who am I telling? I could be on the phone right now telling someone. But who am I talking to?

Quick. Check the phone records. Listen in on the phone calls and wiretap the telephone. Don’t forget the cell phone. Then spread the word and then do a little gaslight. And don’t forget to wear your yamaka. Hostile.

Now that I write with my computer and not my pen she will most likely hack my computer. But she’s so clever she will try to make it seem like the FBI is doing it.

What a copy cat.

Her picture appears on my blog several times. I should probably be paying her royalties. She’s in the cat union.

She loves bugs. She will definitely either bug my apartment or hang around it and listen. She might even sit in a car outside my apartment building. In fact I’m certain I saw a cat sitting in a car outside my building. When you don’t pay attention to them they stalk you.

I always ignore stalkers.

Is SpongeBob still around? I’m writing a TV show for my cat and if it turns out I am a good writer there could be trouble. I’ve been working out at the gym.

They jab you with the information they collect from listening in on your phone calls, from your credit card bills, and from following you around.

Believe it, it’s true. They are so “smart” and went to the “best” schools but it’s really just that they learned lots of tricks. Dirty tricks.

And apparently they can get away with anything. They can buy people. They can buy justice.

Doctor doctor.

My previous black cat died when I was being stalked. Stalkers even stalk you when your pet is sick. They even show up at animal hospitals. And other places.

Stuart Smalley and his 12 step comedy is a trip.  Jelly donuts at Whole Foods?

Stay tuned for Copy Cat II.

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Stalked

IMG_2339_1Just catching up on my days here. Some things just want to be written. They fester inside until they are ready to come out. Could be years, days, or months. Could be a lifetime. My Day as I Finally Know It.

I used to work in the financial services industry and was stalked by my former financial services employer.  Such service! He wanted me to think I was crazy. But I didn’t. So then some of the things he said were “She can’t prove it.””She’s the type that thinks nothing will happen to her.” “She could report us but we know where she lives.” “We’ve got a line on her.”   He started showing up around my apartment building and other places where I was.

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Double Trouble

In honor of Rosh Hashanah my new neighbors decided to smoke cigarettes right outside my door. The cigarette smoke wafted through my open window and I coughed from the smoke. I opened the door and there they were. Right outside my door. Two young men wearing yamakas and smoking cigarettes.

Are cigarette companies making kosher cigarettes now?                                                              If you smoke a cigarette while wearing a yamaka does that make it kosher?

I’ve seen other yamaka wearers smoking cigarettes. I’m not sure why, but something about it just doesn’t seem right. Second hand smoke kills.

I have a little cat who likes to look out the window and I keep my window open to get fresh air.

Was Madoff wearing a yamaka when he conducted his Ponzi scheme?

Does that make it a holy Ponzi scheme? And how about that other white collar money manager? What’s his name, was he wearing his yamaka? Is he in jail yet?

I googled the word yamaka to find out more. Courtesy of Urban Dictionary,

“According to the Talmud–Jewish religious commentary–wearing a yamaka reminds Jews that there is a higher authority, and it reminds us that God is always watching. The yarmulke is one method used to bring out our respect for God.”

I saw you jaywalking and I’m sure God did too. At least take off your yamaka.

And God, if you are watching, please put their cigarettes out. Better yet, tell them to stop smoking near my window. Seriously.

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Sauvignon Blanc and Me – It’s a Date

I had a late lunch today around 4:00 p.m. and a very nice glass of Sauvignon blanc decided to join me. I was having a very uneventful day (like most of my days lately), so I decided to treat myself, and spontaneously stopped into a café I had wanted to go to for quite a while now. I ordered lunch to go.

A handsome young man took my order. He joked about the small portion size. He made me laugh. He smiled a charming smile. He offered me a complimentary beverage while I waited for my order. I suggested he choose the wine for me.

As I drank the wine I noticed the wonderful looking scones and muffins in the bakery section. “Those scones are huge” I said to the handsome young man. “Then one shall be yours” and he chose an apricot ginger scone and presented it to me complimentary. I felt like I was on a date.

A few minutes later he brought me my order. I smiled and thanked the lovely man while I really wanted to kiss him and give him a nice hug. (I haven’t been on a date in a while.)

I then walked a few blocks and found a lovely outdoor area complete with benches and a beautiful fountain.

I chose a bench in the shade. My sandwich of melted brie and warm pear slices with red wine onions on a delicious raisin nut bread was heavenly. The garlic fries were so garlicky I almost exploded. I should have got the baby greens.

Since the Sauvignon blanc was so wonderful and I was still floating when I came home from lunch I decided to have another glass of wine to keep the feeling going.

This glass of wine was a cheap red wine that had sat in my refrigerator for a while and after I drank it I became very drowsy and very sad. Not the nice wonderful floating feeling from the Sauvignon blanc. I regret having that second glass.

I lost my energy and became lethargic and moody. I started googling names from failed romances whom I lost contact with so long ago. I became even more sad as I regretted the relationships that ended and I soon became bored and sleepy. But I fought the sleepiness and the headache that kicked in, and got the bright idea to write a post for my blog and so this is what I wrote.

This wine is really getting to me. Now all I want to do is sleep….I’ll probably get a WUI for writing under the influence….

Mimi Braasch
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Double Jeopardy

The Nigerians are after me now. And Mr. Ben Bernanke is in cahoots with them. I received a letter from the Federal Reserve Bank of New York, so it must be official. Mr. Bernanke is acting as the intermediary for this transaction. Apparently I inherited a lot of money from someone in Nigeria. Wow. I’ve never even been there!

If Mr. Ben Bernanke sent me the letter by email it must need my immediate attention. You can always trust the U.S. Government. They would never swindle me like Wall Street.

Hmmm. I think I will send them my name and address. But wait — they already have my name and address. I filled out my census form. And my current occupation? The government knows I am unemployed so why are they asking me that? I’m really tired of people asking me if I found a job yet.

And my banking info? The government already has my banking info. Maybe they just want to double check.

This is starting to seem suspicious. I think I am going to write Ben a letter and ask him what he’s up to with these Nigerians. I’ve received Nigerian related correspondence  by email before. I handled it with the most utmost respect, diplomacy, and confidentiality. Maybe I should just click delete.

But maybe they are considering me for something big. The letter ends with the words “thanks and God Bless You”. Maybe they want me to be Ambassador to Nigeria….

I just hope they don’t put me under overhead lights and make me look ugly. You know those lights, the kind they use in discount department store dressing rooms. Lighting is everything. Seriously.

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Code Red

Today I received an email from a “Nigerian computer scientist.“ She wants my banking info and she wants to keep it a secret. She suggested we communicate by telephone. Doesn’t she know my home phone has been tapped by the FBI along with my cell phone and my apartment? So she can forget about any secret communication by telephone.

And she can forget about any confidential email correspondence. Someone hacked in to my personal computer and read my emails and my personal and creative writing. And they checked out what websites I go to and my google searches. Seriously.

Who was it? The computer hackers who hacked into Google and Sony? I don’t think so.

Anyway, so no way do we have any secrecy Miss Nigerian computer scientist.

Not only that but my neighbor is a plant. Pellicano had someone move in next door to me. If I’m not careful he will start following me around again. Oh wait, I forgot, Pellicano is in prison. Hmmm…who are they using now to follow me around and to trace my phone calls and to find out who I am talking to?

They know where I live Miss Nigerian computer scientist so NO you can not run away from your country and meet me here.

So I’m sorry to say Miss Nigerian computer scientist, you will not be able to transfer your funds in secret to my account. Maybe you could work for Bernie Madoff. Oh wait — he’s in prison. Hmmm…maybe you could get a job with my former employer. Oh wait — he’s in prison too. Hmmm…maybe you could get a job on Wall Street…

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Undercover

Hmmm…Today I received an email for a “mystery shopping assignment.” They want me to be a “secret shopper.“  Is that something like a secret agent? Or does it just mean that I shop in secret and don’t let anyone know I am shopping? How do I do that by becoming invisible?

Mimi Braasch 2012

The assignment pays $200. Is that a secret too? So secret that I won’t even see it because it’s a scam. They want my name, address, and telephone number and are awaiting my urgent response. I am to submit my info to the yahoo.cn email address provided. Yes, that’s cn as in con.

 

I heard about these mystery shoppers. They’re so mysterious their secret assignment disappears after they submit their personal info to the .con email address provided.

Shhh, it’s a secret.

Mimi Braasch 2012

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Smoke Ring

Lit Cigarette with some smoke around.

Image via Wikipedia

My neighbor saw me in my pajamas. He was outside smoking a cigarette. My cat slipped out under the fence again, so I had to go outside and walk around to the other side of the fence to get her. And I was in my pajamas.

Through the puffs of smoke I heard “Why don’t we go out sometime?” I almost choked from the cigarette smoke. He’s married. Cigarette smoke is bad for you. Seriously.

I told her not to go under the fence! She didn’t listen. She knows she was bad. And now I’m not talking to her. Bad kitty.

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Wanted by the FBI

Today I received an email from the FBI. Oh no, now I’m in trouble. Probably because I started a blog. Or maybe it’s about my stolen photo? But noooo.

The email said to “contact Agent Brian” and something about an “Agent In charge” and of course the words “Federal Bureau Of Investigation” to really scare me.  There was a link, but I didn’t click. I know never to click on a link in an unknown email.

And sure enough (I did a Google search)… Another email scam. Beware.

 
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Blogged

Someone stold my photo so I started a blog. I posted the photo on a specific website for a specific purpose and within a few days another website snatched it. Adios exclusive photo.

This is the picture:

(c) Copyright 2005

I took this photo when I worked on the television show Gilmore Girls. I only have two acting credits — so I don’t really know why it was stolen. The photo is six years old. So when I created this blog and posted my photo on my blog I felt empowered.  I am not on facebook, twitter, or myspace, and I am not a member of mylife, or any other social network site so it was shocking to me to find the photo stolen.

It’s official, this is my faceblogtwitterspace.  Maybe I should join facebook….

Mimi Braasch

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