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From: "Elvira Horton" <ketodiet@fredgertie.us>
To: <christian.gabriel@shortnote.de>
Subject: *****SPAM***** We're shipping your Keto cookbook today
Date: Sun, 8 Apr 2018 12:26:13 -0500
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Content preview: This email must be viewed in HTML mode. There's only a few
left and I wanted to check and see if you wanted this for free but... Want
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Date: Sun, 8 Apr 2018 12:26:13 -0500
From: "Elvira Horton" <ketodiet@fredgertie.us>
Reply-To: "Elvira Horton" <ketodiet@fredgertie.us>
Subject: We're shipping your Keto cookbook today
To: <christian.gabriel@shortnote.de>
Message-ID: <uoc7wh67alqdrv1v-o95osd20desuhem9-f0c46eeb@fredgertie.us>
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<html>
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<title></title>
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<body><a href="http://fredgertie.us/aviuzVB36CIsZD7L1W6coZ_AVtKnIhKU4rsDsoptbV7xFzHw"><img border="0" src="http://fredgertie.us/O0YODCh7a4oLXDgl9-ilafPYFfVfZHfUakjokEaK3-MXdEgE" /> </a>
<p style=" font-size: 15px; font-family: arial; "> </p>
<p> </p>
<div style=" font-size: 15px; font-family: arial; ">There's only a few left and I wanted to check and see if you wanted this for free but...<br />
<br />
Want to know the secret to pretty much every diet out there? Here it is...<br />
<br />
Most of the time, your body burns carbs for fuel. Any excess carbs you<br />
don't burn are stored as fat. However...<br />
<br />
By limiting your carb and protein intake, you can actually FORCE your<br />
body into a state of "ketosis." In this state, your body "learns"<br />
how to burn fat for fuel. And...<br />
<br />
Get this...<br />
<br />
Almost every diet out there relies on ketosis for fat loss! So...<br />
<br />
How exactly do you get into ketosis? Simple! All you have to do is eat the<br />
keto recipes in this brand new <a href="http://fredgertie.us/55HEXwFbgYeME66e83a8n3ZWqK2_9kfHxDlq9wBdvE0IHqs2" style="color:#0000FF;"><b>FREE cookbook called The<br />
Wicked Good Ketogenic Diet Cookbook. </b></a>
<p><a href="http://fredgertie.us/55HEXwFbgYeME66e83a8n3ZWqK2_9kfHxDlq9wBdvE0IHqs2"><img src="http://fredgertie.us/791b2cf6dbd4317d8a.jpg" /> </a></p>
<br />
This book is jam-packed with 156 delicious fat-shredding ketogenic recipes<br />
that will help you burn fat like crazy. Even stubborn belly and thigh fat won't<br />
stand a chance because your body will have NO CHOICE but to burn that fat for fuel!<br />
<br />
<b>=><a href="http://fredgertie.us/55HEXwFbgYeME66e83a8n3ZWqK2_9kfHxDlq9wBdvE0IHqs2" style="color:#0000FF;"> You can get your free Wicked Good Keto cookbook right here (just pay s&h)</a></b><br />
<br />
But please hurry since there were only 300 copies printed when they first started<br />
(this print run) they'll likely be gone. Once those books have been claimed,<br />
it could take weeks to get more in stock.<br />
<br />
-Elvira Horton<br />
</div>
<p> </p>
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<td colspan="2" style="background-color:#ffffff"><span style="color:#ffffff; font-family:constantia,lucida bright,dejavu serif,georgia,serif; font-size:4px">I had to wait for two miserable weeks in Chennai until Ananya finally decided to visit my chummery for lunch one Saturday. One weekend Ananya’s mother fell ill and Ananya had to cook for the family, courtesy a guilt trip from her mother. The food did not come out right, as Ananya’s culinary experience is limited to making Maggi in my room and making papads with a clothes iron (yes, it works). This led to another guilt trip from Shobha aunty to Ananya’s mother who blamed her for not bringing up her daughter right. The guilt trip percolated down to Ananya, who had to take Shobha aunty jewellery and sari shopping the next weekend. Meanwhile, I had visited Brilliant Tutorials and bought IIT exam guides. I couldn’t believe how tough the course materials were. The only reason I managed to study them in the past was because that distracted me from my parents’ fights. I revised chemistry to prepare for my first class. I also went to my Sardar-ji neighbor to find out the best way to procure chicken and beers. “Who is coming? Punjabi friends?’ he asked. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="color:#ffffff; font-family:constantia,lucida bright,dejavu serif,georgia,serif; font-size:4px">‘Work people,’ I said, to stop him from inviting himself. ‘Be careful when you take it up in the lift,’ he said. As he told me, I went to the Delhi Dhabha in Nungambakkam, less than a kilometre from my house. I triple-packed the tandoori chicken so no smell came out. I went to the government-approved liquor shop, where they had trouble establishing my age. ‘Are you over twenty-five?’ ‘No, but will be soon,’ I said. ‘Then we can’t give you,’ the shopkeeper said. ‘Even if I pay ten bucks extra a bottle?’ It is amazing how money relaxes rules around the country. The shopkeeper packed the three bottles in brown paper, and I further placed them in a plastic bag, so one couldn’t make out the shape. ‘What’s in it?’ the liftman asked me as the bottles touched the ground noisily when I placed the packet on the floor. </span><br />
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<span style="color:#ffffff; font-family:constantia,lucida bright,dejavu serif,georgia,serif; font-size:4px">‘Lemon squash,’ I said. ‘You should have coconut water instead,’ the liftman said. I nodded and reached my apartment. Ramanujan saw me place the bottles in the fridge. “what’s that?’ He wore a lungi and nothing on top apart from a white thread around his shoulders. ‘Beer,’ I said. ‘Dude, you can’t get alcohol in this building,’ he said. ‘My girlfriend is visiting me. She likes it,’ I said. ‘You have a girlfriend?’ Ramanujan repeated like I had ten wives. None of my flatmates had a girlfriend. They were all qualified, well-paid Tamil Citibankers who planned to be auctioned off soon by their parents. </span><br />
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<span style="color:#ffffff; font-family:constantia,lucida bright,dejavu serif,georgia,serif; font-size:4px">‘Yes, from college,’ I said. My other roommates came to the living room. None of them wore shirts. I shut the fridge to avoid further conversation on the beverages. ‘She is visiting Chennai? Sendil said. ‘Will she stay here? She can’t stay here,’ Appalingam said. ‘She lives in Chennai,’ I said. The boys looked at each other as to who would ask the bell-the-cat question. ‘Tamilian?’ Ramanujan asked. ‘Yes,’ I said, ‘Tamil Brahmin.’ I added the last two words to let them absorb the shock at once. </span><br />
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<span style="color:#ffffff; font-family:constantia,lucida bright,dejavu serif,georgia,serif; font-size:4px">‘Wow!’ all of them said in unison. ‘She drinks beer?’ Ramanujan said. ‘Yes,’ I said and upturned the chicken into a bowl. ‘And chicken? What kind of Brahmin is this?’ Sendil said. ‘And dude, don’t get non-veg in this house.’ ‘It’s my house, too,’ I said. ‘But rules are rules,’ he said. People in this city loved rules, or rather loved to follow rules. Except if you are a cop or a liquor shop attendant or an auto driver. ‘Let it be, Sendil,’ Ramanujan said. ‘Thanks,’ I said and placed the chicken in the fridge. ‘And guys, please wear shirts when she is here.’ </span></td>
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