I Love SPAM
Not the meat, that’s gross.
I’m not Hawaiian after all. You know they eat it on a stick there. Out of hot dog carts. Blargh.
Anyway, I get lots o’spam.
LOTS.
I ran across one today.
The post was about how we were being investigated for spanking the orphans. About how intrusive the state can be on an “anonymous” tip, about how it was probably the state because I had told the caseworker that Boog had come home from the latest visit yelling “spank my butt” every ten minutes. About how they don’t differentiate between a spanking (beating) and a spanking (pat on the butt at bedtime when you tuck in a kid).
I was sick AND tired of dealing with the crap that is foster care.
and the spammer told me
“what a beautiful, thought out piece, I’ll take it to heart.”
Another gem is the one where I am talking on my iPhone and refusing to pay for medication for one of the orphans.
“I am referencing this post in my doctoral thesis. So much information that I haven’t found any other place.”
Really, you’re getting your doctorate in being a bitch?
Good luck with that.
Even better than spam? The flamers.
Those who are so against me listening to Amy Grant’s Christmas Album that they accuse me of purchasing my undergarments at Walmart.
Yeah, so hurtful.
I cried.
Tears of laughter.
Then I mocked them for being stupid.
Anyway,
what’s the best flame you ever got, or spam, or random comment?
March 4th, 2010 at 9:24 am
mwahahahah! Doctorate in bitch! Thanks for the laugh with my coffee this morning.
[Reply]
March 5th, 2010 at 5:28 pm
I haven’t commented on your site before, but I have become a faithful reader since my friend in Spain, who you also know, told me about it. For me, it’s laugh out loud funny-and I don’t often LITERALLY laugh out loud. Anyhow, I digress. when I was at that tender age of 14-8th grade-I got flamed. Big time. You know, the age where a girl isn’t just self conscience, she’s convinced every single comment on the planet is about her and it’s about how ugly she is. Yep, that was me. This boy in my mandatory PE class during the mandatory square dance unit (I’m from Montana-I am a decent doe-see-doer) wouldn’t dance with me because my hands, and I quote, were “freakishly small”. That’s right. Didn’t just whisper it, either. He announced it like he was matched up with a circus show exhibit. In the gym with a sizable echo available for his voice. Freakishly small hands, right here. I suppose it goes to show you that you sometimes just don’t forget the sting of the punks from PE class. I wonder where he pumps gas these days…
[Reply]
annie Reply:
March 5th, 2010 at 11:53 pm
Small world. I”M from Montana. I claim to be anyway. I did see that guy at the Town Pump last time I was up that way…had I known, I’d have kicked him in the shin. Or had my teenage daughter mock him. Glad you have joined the fray. p.s. I love your friend in Spain.
[Reply]