Today I went to Zulily, an online purveyor of cotton and cotton byproducts, to scroll through their catalog for something made out of cotton (or cotton byproducts) with which to clothe my pale scientist flesh.
Like an overeager teenager, Zulily wanted to get serious right there, where anyone could see. Just going to the goddamn website made it popup a CREATE AN ACCOUNT screen that wouldn’t go away. “Stop it!” I said; and, “Where’s the goddam ‘X’? I just want to browse your cotton byproducts!” But no–Zulily wanted it all. An email. Password. Name. Only then could capitalism commence.
“Fine, asshole,” I said, with the sort of graciousness for which I’m famous. I gave Zulily what it asked for–but not quite.
Name: blah blah
Password: ******** *
“There, asshole!” I said, feeling the same triumph that must have been experienced by my female ancestors when they survived childbirth on the hot Serengeti plains. “Now show me the cotton!”
Invalid username and password. There is already an account with this email address.
“Huh,” I said. And for the sake of statistical power, I tried the whole thing again–and got the same message.
Which leads me to the inevitable conclusion that any unclothed scientist must make: someone out there has stolen my blah fake identity–and could be using it as I type to browse Zulily’s cotton (and cotton byproducts). Cotton (and cotton byproducts) which should be mine.
* The password was ‘blahblah,’ because it had to be more than six characters.