Someone sends me a link to the personal webpage of a college student who has stolen two of my taglines and whole paragraphs of my writing and tried to pass them off as her own. I show Jon who is sitting next to me in bed. We have just finished watching "Project Runway" with Heidi Klum and Jon, in his best German supermodel accent has just said, "Designers, please step forward so I can cut off your scrotum with de scissors."

Me: She even used my all caps sentence.
Him: And she's a student at [this Ivy league school]? That's just not right.
Me: I'm the one who informed the world that Jesus took shits, NOT HER!
Him: (opening up email to ask her to remove my stuff) I wonder if she's aware of her school's policy on plagiarism printed right here on their website.
Me: (opening up email to ask her to remove my stuff, but the only coherent words I can seem to type are, "Dude," or "YO MAMMA.")
Him: (composes very articulate email using diplomatic yet firm language asking that she remove my stuff, sends it) Let's give her some time.
Me: (remembers why I married That Man because otherwise I would have committed arson or some sort of felony misdemeanor on more than several occasions.)

This afternoon she responds to Jon's eloquent email and my email that said, "Dude." It says:

"Dear Dooce & Husband,

I have successfully removed the said items on my blog. I apologize for the stolen material, but I must say you people are quite insane. How on earth does one find this stuff... and in one day? You would probably take that as a compliment. Good work stalking me."

I immediately call Jon at work, fuming, and ask him if he's read the email. Before he can even say yes, I interject, "INSANE? INSANE? I may be CRAZY, but where does she get off calling me INSANE? Only certain people whom I pay VERY GOOD MONEY have any authority to go there."