New Blogger Lucy Horton Follower her on Twitter: @justlucy78
Check out Lucy’s website for her daily shenanigans!
Last night I had the privilege of meeting a woman whose blog, Just Another Tired Mommy, I have been following. When I first read it, I noticed that she sort of sounded like me. I commented on a few posts, we found each other on Facebook, and I have since decided that she is my sister from another mister. She drove over an hour to join my girls and me for therapy, and we had a great time. During our conversation, she mentioned something about how she was impressed that I took the high road by ignoring what someone had said to me through the comment section of her blog. I had no idea what she was talking about. I misunderstood what she was saying and thought she was talking about something someone had said to HER. About an hour later, it came up again, and I figured out what she meant. I had written a comment below my friend’s Elf on the Shelf post, and I had dropped the f-bomb. (Oh, and just in case you don’t know what an Elf on the Shelf is, I will tell you that it’s this little “magical” Elf who sits on a shelf in your house during the month of December. He observes your kid’s behavior all day, reports back to Santa at night, and returns to a new spot in your house the next morning.) Now, on my friend’s blog I used the actual f-word with all four letters. Well, technically it was seven letters because it was in adjective form. Anyway, I know for a FACT that my friend was completely OK with this, but apparently, not everyone felt the same way. Yes, I am fully aware that I have stated that I will not use the actual four-letter word on MY blog. However, not only am I totally OK with YOU doing it in my comment section, I encourage you to do so. As long as you’re not being mean to my family or me, I’m completely fine with it.
Anyway, this person really rubbed me the wrong way with her response to my comment, and I couldn’t just let it go or take the high road my friend thought I had taken. (I guess she doesn’t know me that well yet.) So, I’ve gone ahead and copied and pasted the actual comments from her blog for you to see. (All f-bombs you are about to read contained ALL FOUR letters in the original comments on my friend’s blog. They have been edited for content on this post. Oh, I also used the word, “asses.” Please feel free to write “ass” or drop a nicely placed f-bomb in my comment section. Just don’t be mean and say that my “f—ing ass is huge.” That’s just not nice. It’s true, but it’s still not nice.)
Anyway, here’s how the whole thing went down.
On November 17th, I read my friend’s post and left this comment:
Our Elf on the Shelf is Teddy, and he moves to a new location every morning. The kids have to find him in his new spot everyday. (My husband and I almost always forget to friggin’ move him, so we have to distract them and move him while they’re up our asses in the morning.) I think in the book that goes with him, it says he finds a new place to sit every morning because at night he reports back to the North Pole. Whatever. It helps for December behavior. Can we put a f—ing hula dancer on the shelf over the summer? She can report back to the manager at the pool or something. “Sorry, kids. You can’t swim today. Harriet the Hula dancer says you didn’t eat your broccoli at dinner last night.”
My Sister From Another Mister then wrote:
Lucy, we do THE SAME THING–at least we did last year. THIS year he has not done the “move” yet because we forgot when we first brought him back and I want it to seem believable (you know–an elf flying back to the NP every night believable), so we’ll have him move maybe after Thanksgiving and leave a letter…from the doll. I LOVE the Hula idea–let’s get ON that!
On November 18th, Anonymous wrote:
Well Lucy, I hope you don’t speak to your kids the way you commented to [my friend]! Please! Is it necessary???
Now, keep in mind that I had absolutely NO IDEA this person had commented after I did until last night. I actually didn’t even know that my friend had. When she told me last night, we used my other friend’s phone to look it up so that I could see it for myself. (My phone is from 1987.) I probably could have and maybe should have ignored it, but I was super pissed, and I couldn’t let it go. “I hope you don’t speak to your kids the way you commented?” “Is it necessary?” Really lady?! (I’m just guessing Anonymous is female.) No, of course it’s not necessary. A lot of things aren’t necessary, but we do them anyway because they are amusing or they make us feel good.
For this reason, I felt that my next response was QUITE necessary:
Oh, hey, Anonymous! How are you? I do hope you’re well. We’re just swell over here at our house! Want to know what we did today? Well, first we had a few whiskey shots and smokes for breakfast while we gathered around the TV for some nice gay porn. We sort of lost track of time. (In hind sight, maybe the pot wasn’t such a good idea.) We realized we were running a tad late for school, so we quickly got the kids’ backpacks together. Today was show and tell for the letter R, so I sent them along with their razor blades and Rohypnol.
After school they hopped in the back of the pick-up truck and we headed to the playground. We found some hypodermic needles and broken glass and they were so excited that I let them take some home for their collections of sharp and shiny things. (How can you say, “No” to those cute little faces?)
They wanted a snack when we got home, so I whipped up some nice Jello shots. (Delish!) When Daddy got home they practiced their target shooting in the backyard with some nice brewskies. I just treasure the bond they share with their father.
They were just so exhausted by the end of the day, we didn’t even eat dinner. They just passed out on their beds of nails, clutching their Teddies riddled with bed bugs. I hope they have sweet dreams tonight, as they anticipate tomorrow’s fun-filled day of scouring the beach for used condoms to make all sorts of clever balloon animals. My kids are just so darn talented!
Well, anyway, I feel like I’ve rambled, and I’m so sorry about that. Wait. Why am I apologizing to you? Oh, that’s right. Apparently your shit doesn’t stink, and your holier-than-thou attitude makes you feel as if you have the right to tell me what is and what is not appropriate to write on my friend’s blog, or what to say and not say to my children. Just so we’re clear, I don’t give a f— what you think of me or how I raise my children. I’m pretty sure that 20 years from now, my kids will read this and tell me how awesome I was for standing up to…what’s your name again? Oh, that’s right. You didn’t have the balls to write it. If you’re a good girl, maybe Santa will put some in your stocking, along with a f—ing sense of humor. Get over yourself.
Much love,
Lucy
A few minutes later, I added this:
Oh, and [my friend], I actually do apologize to you for blowing up your comment section like this. Tell you what…come on up with the kids, and we’ll have a playdate at the strip club! I know a great spot just around the corner where I turn tricks. We’ll get you a nice lap dance. My treat! 
Did I overreact? Possibly. Was I still a little tipsy from wine time when I wrote that last night? Definitely. Should I have slept on it to see if I was still mad about it in the morning? Maybe. Do I care about any of those things? Not even a little bit.
Download The Comedy Point for FREE
New Blogger Lucy Horton Follower her on Twitter: @justlucy78
Check out Lucy’s website for her daily shenanigans!
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Screw You, Anonymous
Check out Lucy’s website for her daily shenanigans!
Last night I had the privilege of meeting a woman whose blog, Just Another Tired Mommy, I have been following. When I first read it, I noticed that she sort of sounded like me. I commented on a few posts, we found each other on Facebook, and I have since decided that she is my sister from another mister. She drove over an hour to join my girls and me for therapy, and we had a great time. During our conversation, she mentioned something about how she was impressed that I took the high road by ignoring what someone had said to me through the comment section of her blog. I had no idea what she was talking about. I misunderstood what she was saying and thought she was talking about something someone had said to HER. About an hour later, it came up again, and I figured out what she meant. I had written a comment below my friend’s Elf on the Shelf post, and I had dropped the f-bomb. (Oh, and just in case you don’t know what an Elf on the Shelf is, I will tell you that it’s this little “magical” Elf who sits on a shelf in your house during the month of December. He observes your kid’s behavior all day, reports back to Santa at night, and returns to a new spot in your house the next morning.) Now, on my friend’s blog I used the actual f-word with all four letters. Well, technically it was seven letters because it was in adjective form. Anyway, I know for a FACT that my friend was completely OK with this, but apparently, not everyone felt the same way. Yes, I am fully aware that I have stated that I will not use the actual four-letter word on MY blog. However, not only am I totally OK with YOU doing it in my comment section, I encourage you to do so. As long as you’re not being mean to my family or me, I’m completely fine with it.
Anyway, this person really rubbed me the wrong way with her response to my comment, and I couldn’t just let it go or take the high road my friend thought I had taken. (I guess she doesn’t know me that well yet.) So, I’ve gone ahead and copied and pasted the actual comments from her blog for you to see. (All f-bombs you are about to read contained ALL FOUR letters in the original comments on my friend’s blog. They have been edited for content on this post. Oh, I also used the word, “asses.” Please feel free to write “ass” or drop a nicely placed f-bomb in my comment section. Just don’t be mean and say that my “f—ing ass is huge.” That’s just not nice. It’s true, but it’s still not nice.)
Anyway, here’s how the whole thing went down.
On November 17th, I read my friend’s post and left this comment:
Our Elf on the Shelf is Teddy, and he moves to a new location every morning. The kids have to find him in his new spot everyday. (My husband and I almost always forget to friggin’ move him, so we have to distract them and move him while they’re up our asses in the morning.) I think in the book that goes with him, it says he finds a new place to sit every morning because at night he reports back to the North Pole. Whatever. It helps for December behavior. Can we put a f—ing hula dancer on the shelf over the summer? She can report back to the manager at the pool or something. “Sorry, kids. You can’t swim today. Harriet the Hula dancer says you didn’t eat your broccoli at dinner last night.”
My Sister From Another Mister then wrote:
On November 18th, Anonymous wrote:
Well Lucy, I hope you don’t speak to your kids the way you commented to [my friend]! Please! Is it necessary???
Now, keep in mind that I had absolutely NO IDEA this person had commented after I did until last night. I actually didn’t even know that my friend had. When she told me last night, we used my other friend’s phone to look it up so that I could see it for myself. (My phone is from 1987.) I probably could have and maybe should have ignored it, but I was super pissed, and I couldn’t let it go. “I hope you don’t speak to your kids the way you commented?” “Is it necessary?” Really lady?! (I’m just guessing Anonymous is female.) No, of course it’s not necessary. A lot of things aren’t necessary, but we do them anyway because they are amusing or they make us feel good.
Oh, hey, Anonymous! How are you? I do hope you’re well. We’re just swell over here at our house! Want to know what we did today? Well, first we had a few whiskey shots and smokes for breakfast while we gathered around the TV for some nice gay porn. We sort of lost track of time. (In hind sight, maybe the pot wasn’t such a good idea.) We realized we were running a tad late for school, so we quickly got the kids’ backpacks together. Today was show and tell for the letter R, so I sent them along with their razor blades and Rohypnol.
Lucy
A few minutes later, I added this:
Oh, and [my friend], I actually do apologize to you for blowing up your comment section like this. Tell you what…come on up with the kids, and we’ll have a playdate at the strip club! I know a great spot just around the corner where I turn tricks. We’ll get you a nice lap dance. My treat!
Did I overreact? Possibly. Was I still a little tipsy from wine time when I wrote that last night? Definitely. Should I have slept on it to see if I was still mad about it in the morning? Maybe. Do I care about any of those things? Not even a little bit.
Download The Comedy Point for FREE
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New Blogger Lucy Horton Follower her on Twitter: @justlucy78
Check out Lucy’s website for her daily shenanigans!
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