Ok you, even you in the back.

23 May

I want some comments. Today is comment whore day I’ve decided.

Remember this? Where I said you could win a book JUST by commenting? IT’S STILL OPEN. YOU could still win.

Even if you comment on this post. You don’t even really have to tell me a story, although the ones listed so far on the other post are excellent.

I’m lonely. Don’t make me beg…..

28 Responses to “Ok you, even you in the back.”

  1. mercurial scribe May 23, 2007 at 3:50 pm #

    LOL, you and my hubbie are apparently on the same side. HOWEVER, if i remember correctly Daniel Alfredsson TOUCHED THE CONFERENCE TROPHY! Now, my Scottie didn’t… history points to the Sens being doomed.

    Sorry, Thordora. *Okay, well, not so much.* 😉

  2. Netter May 23, 2007 at 3:51 pm #

    Begging is not becoming. A lady should never have to beg. Did I ever tell you about the time that I was at my great-uncles anniversary party and I walked across the whole hall (in front of my father’s entire family, and this is a big family, they don’t believe in birth control)with the back of my skirt tucked into my panty hose? Like tucked in so much everyone could see the flowers on my panties. Oh and there was the time the love note I, as a completely love sick puppy, had given to the school’s starting goalie wound up photo copied all over the school right before a big choir concert?

  3. thordora May 23, 2007 at 3:53 pm #

    oh netter, you just totally made me feel a LOT better.

    Daniel will see us through Scribe…don’t you worry…..

  4. becca May 23, 2007 at 4:00 pm #

    Fine, I’m a lurker but I’m also bored.

    When I was 16-17 I loved the musical RENT (actually, I still do, but then it was my life). Anyway, I travelled down to London to queue up overnight for tickets for the last night, the night before.

    We got front row middle tickets, for £20 each, which was great, but then because I’d spent the night in Leicester Square and had hardly slept, I fell asleep. In the middle of the front row.

    It wasn’t the first time I’d seen it, and the actors recognised our group, and one of them pointed me out at the stage door afterwards.

  5. Jen May 23, 2007 at 6:58 pm #

    Alright. A couple of years ago I was walking to work from the subway. On Broadway. In front of City Hall. I was wearing this cute little black wrap-around skirt and had my music on and it was sunny and perfect and then…my skirt fell off. I had to bend down, retrieve it from the sidewalk, and rewrap it. Thank god I was wearing underwear that day.

  6. Mogo May 23, 2007 at 7:28 pm #

    does it count if I spam my own blog some more?



  7. Oh, The Joys May 23, 2007 at 8:50 pm #

    Here I am to save the daaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay! Mighty commenter is on the waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay!

  8. landismom May 23, 2007 at 9:19 pm #

    Here’s the story. Of a lovely lady. Who was bringing up three very lovely girls…

  9. jkdufair May 23, 2007 at 9:43 pm #

    A visitor to a monastery was being shown round by the abbot when a monk shouted out: “64!” All the other monks roared with laughter. Another then called out “15”, again much laughter. “What’s going on?” asked the visitor. “They know each other’s jokes inside out,” said the abbott. “So rather than tell them each time, they’ve numbered them. If one calls out a number, they think of the joke and laugh. Have a go…” The visitor called out “45” and there was a small ripple of polite laughter. “I’m afraid,” said the Abbot, “that’s not very funny, try again.” So the visitor called out “56” and there was uproar. “Must have been a good joke.” “Yes,” said the abbot wiping his eyes. “And we’ve never heard it before.”

  10. heidi May 23, 2007 at 11:17 pm #

    I’ve been trying to think of something even vaguely witty to say, so as not to waste a precious little smidgen of the internet.

    But I got nothing.

    I did just pee my pants a little laughing @ Jase.

  11. misspudding May 24, 2007 at 1:35 am #

    Comment whore day?

    You make me laugh!

  12. DJ Kirkby May 24, 2007 at 2:03 am #

    Okay, you are too funny. Found you and and to pop in and have a catious peek (due to phobia, see my blog if you gotta know…)I will be back for a longer read tonight, as I need to set off for a days grind in Chateau Despair in a min.

  13. Bon May 24, 2007 at 6:25 am #

    i have a bit of a story for you, oh comment whore. this morning my dear partner in parenting is away, yet again…and in fact is visiting your fair city. or kind of fair city. because our child has the instincts of a mongoose going in for the kill, and he clearly knows that i love nothing so much as to lie abed in the morning until, say, dawn or even later, he woke up screaming and reading for the day at 5:40. 5:40, my friend, is not a civilized hour. even if your child is snot-covered and howling and you are the only adult in the house.

    so it is now 7:30 and i have been up for nearly two hours. so, i have a deal for ya. if you would kindly slip over to that fancy chateau hotel that pretends it’s in Europe and kick my child’s father’s ass back over here across the puddle, stat, i will come back and comment all day long. after my nap.

    all i got at this hour, sorry. 🙂

  14. Missy May 24, 2007 at 6:28 am #

    Hmmm. My comment disappeard?

  15. Missy May 24, 2007 at 6:29 am #

    “An airline’s passenger cabin was being served by an obviously gay flight attendant, who seemed to put everyone in a good mood as he served them food and drinks. As the plane prepared to descend, he came swishing down the aisle and announced to the passengers, ‘Captain Marvey has asked me to announce that he’ll be landing the big scary plane shortly, so lovely people, if you could just put your trays up, that would be super.’

    On his trip back up the aisle, he noticed a well-dressed rather exotic looking woman hadn’t moved a muscle. ‘Perhaps you didn’t hear me over those big brute engines. I asked you to raise your trazy-poo, so the main man can pitty-pat us on the ground.’

    She calmly turned her head and said, ‘In my country, I am called a Princess. I take orders from no one.’

    To which the flight attendant replied, without missing a beat, ‘Well, sweet-cheeks, in my country I’m called a Queen, so I outrank you. Tray-up, Bitch.’

  16. Flo May 24, 2007 at 10:44 am #

    A less than perfect moment in my life? Why I don’t believe I’ve ever had one of those!

    Anyhoo-you want to hear about the trip to Target where Rosie, all two year old, kept pulling things off the shelves at checkout, then screamed so loudly when I put her in the cart that literally EVERY PERSON in the checkout area was looking at us-every. single. person.-AND I had the slowest cashier imaginable. So I finally got all my bags in the cart and shoved in my bank card to pay, and stalked the whole long way toward the door, hissing threats under my breath to a still-screaming child-when the cashier was suddenly at my elbow. Why? Because I had left my bankcard in the reader, and hadn’t even finished my transaction. Thus holding up everybody in line behind me. So I had to do the walk of shame BACK to the checkout, finish checking out, and walk all the way back to my cart. With everyone staring.

    Nice, right? Wish you were me, right?

  17. ann adams May 24, 2007 at 11:08 am #

    I’m not too sure what you’re seeking but yesterday I had the entire household hunting a t-shirt (that was draped over my arm the entire time).

    I have entire days like that.

  18. thordora May 24, 2007 at 11:12 am #

    Ann-my Dad has ALWAYS done that with his glasses. The time he threw his teeth out was pretty funny too.

  19. CroutonBoy May 24, 2007 at 3:03 pm #

    comment comment comment comment comment

  20. Elizabeth Fuson May 24, 2007 at 4:02 pm #

    You know what I hate? I hate going to McD’s after promising your 4 year old that if he is good, he can go and play and eat French Fries. You get there. Order, GEt your food. Then, go to the door of playground. Realize that it is locked. Go to counter, tell them that it’s locked. They know!! The playground needs some work, therefore it’s closed. Explain to 4 year old. Screaming tantrum commences. He doesn’t understand, and to him I am the bad guy. Ughhh.. I hate these people here. Shouldn’t there have been a sign or something? I would have gone across town to the other McD’s. or something!! So, in order for him to stop crying we had to pack back up into the car and go to a park and play. Damn them…

  21. Jhianna May 24, 2007 at 4:23 pm #

    Hmmmm….. lessee….


    I got nothing. I tell horrible stories, and I murder jokes. I know someone really likes me when they tolerate me doing either one. Maybe I’ve been doing it wrong all these years. I should actively try to be worse at it. *wanders off mumbling*

  22. erin May 24, 2007 at 6:28 pm #

    One of my very favorite stories…

    The Curtain Rods

    She spent the first day packing her belongings into boxes, crates and
    suitcases. On the second day, she had the movers come and collect her
    things. On the third day, she sat down for the last time at their beautiful dining
    room table by candlelight, put on some soft background music, and feasted on a
    pound of shrimp, a jar of caviar, and a bottle of Chardonnay.

    When she had finished, she went into each and every room and deposited a
    few half-eaten shrimp shells dipped in caviar, into the hollow of the curtain
    rods. She then cleaned up the kitchen and left.

    When the husband returned with his new girlfriend, all was bliss for the
    first few days. Then slowly, the house began to smell. They tried everything,
    cleaning, mopping, and airing the place out. Vents were checked for dead
    rodents, and carpets were steam cleaned. Air fresheners were hung
    everywhere. Exterminators were brought in to set off gas canisters, during which they
    had to move out for a few days, and in the end they even paid to replace the
    expensive wool carpeting.

    Nothing worked. People stopped coming over to visit. Repairmen refused to
    work in the house. The maid quit. Finally, they could not take the stench any longer and
    decided to move. A month later, even though they had cut their price in half, they could not find
    a buyer for their stinky house.

    Word got out, and eventually, even the local realtors refused to return
    their calls. Finally, they had to borrow a huge sum of money from the bank to
    purchase a new place. The ex-wife called the man, and asked how things
    were going. He told her the saga of the rotting house. She listened politely,
    and said that she missed her old home terribly, and would be willing to
    reduce her divorce settlement in exchange for getting the house back. Knowing his
    ex-wife had no idea how bad the smell was, he agreed on price that was about
    1/10th of what the house had been worth, but only if she were to sign the papers
    that very day. She agreed, and within the hour his lawyers delivered the

    A week later the man and his girlfriend stood smiling as they watched the
    moving company pack everything to take to their new home, including the
    curtain rods.


  23. alimum May 24, 2007 at 11:26 pm #

    I have fallen off the blog-wagon.

    I read. I just don’t comment. And I don’t feel like i have any stories to tell right now.

    Maybe tomorrow.

  24. thordora May 25, 2007 at 10:04 am #

    ok, this comment thread rules. I keep giggling everytime I come back to it. 😛

  25. liprap May 26, 2007 at 10:44 pm #

    Oh, what the hell. After the week I’ve had, I’m gonna down some of my husband’s homemade banana wine and do the comment conga:

    Comment comment com-MENT!
    Comment comment com-MENT!

    I’d pour some through the blogosphere for ya, but I know it won’t get any further than my motherboard…

  26. djkirkby May 31, 2007 at 1:59 am #

    I’ve got emetaphobia (fear of vomit)… why am I here?

  27. thordora May 31, 2007 at 7:51 am #

    Cause there really isn’t that much vomit if you pulsate… 🙂


  1. One Last Chance at the Event! « Spin Me I Pulsate - May 28, 2007

    […] One Last Chance at the Event! May 28, 2007 Filed under: Pulsate Olympics — thordora @ 11:29 am and all you need to do is comment here. […]

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