Get These Naked People Out of Here

Did any of you catch something different on my blog last week?  Like the masses of naked people looking for “dates”?

Please say no.  Please say you never saw any of it.

Hackers.  They are persistent motherfuckers.  And, unfortunately, they like my site.

I was hacked in January.  That time, I basically couldn’t log in to my blog or access it in any way.  I was locked out.  That was upsetting.

Turns out that was nothing.

This time, I wasn’t locked out, per se.  I was held hostage.  I had access to my site but was unable to stop the crazy shit that was happening to it.  It was like being locked in a room with a Keanu Reeves movie marathon and no liquor.  But worse.

Take, for instance, last Friday night.  My husband was away for his guys’ golfing weekend {more on that another time}.  I had the kids in bed early.  It was just me, the pug and the torturous question of whether I was ready to switch from white to red wine for the season.  So I sat down to do some blogging.

And then.  Suddenly.  A voice.  Deep, creepy, British.  Through the speakers of my computer.  No video.  No pop up.  Just an invisible audio file that I had never heard before.

Talking about some crazy sexual antics.  Over the top, really perverted stuff.  On. My. Blog.

I was basically in the fetal position with one hand covering my ears and the other hand swatting at the laptop until I could shut down the browser and just make. it. stop.

Holy shit.  What was that?

I called my web hosting company, who had been rock stars during Hack #1.  This time, they couldn’t find anything, nor could they replicate the “situation.”

I was creeped out.

Then, two days later, bizarro pop-ups on my site about malware and potentially infected files.

I was getting upset.

Then, on Day Four, my site started redirecting on its own to spammy, weird sites that sold bad music videos.

I felt violated.

Until I realized I had no right to previously feel violated.  Because the worst was still ahead.  Like, later that day —  when the site started redirecting to the most deviant websites I’ve ever seen.  This was violating.

OH. MY. GOD.

It got bolder, the hack.  It wouldn’t let me shut down the browser.  Then it wouldn’t let me shut down the computer unless I did so manually by holding down the power button and weeping, “Please, don’t show me those websites ever again.”

The web hosting company had multiple techs pore through my files on the server.  They could find nothing.  Nothing.  While my eyes burned from the trauma that was now my blog.  My baby.  I felt like I was waiting for the interventionist to arrive and help me send my child to rehab.

Then, last night, some light.  Someone referred me to a lovely woman who knows how to deal with these situations.  She was like The Cleaner.  Or The Hack Whisperer.  Within 12 hours of contacting her, she found the infected file and all of the naked people in chains went away.

So, if you saw anything, uh, wonky here over the last few days — I’m so sorry.  {Or, you’re welcome, if that’s your thing.  Let’s just never speak of it.}

As for me, I think I’ll be OK.  Once I get this PTSD in check with a therapeutic amount of wine.

Hackers, you suck.  Go bother some mom who blogs about making her kids’ clothes from the cotton she grows herself.  Or go and violate some fantasy baseball site.  Leave my only emotional outlet alone.