OK, I have a couple of apologies.

Firstly, Boo has discovered the joy of commenting. This morning he was watching me on my NaBloPoMo page and declined a friend request.

Mad scramble to apologize to said requester and added her as a friend (sorry Lotus) God only knows if there were others.

If I declined you, it wasn’t me it was the tiny terrorist on his reign of send-Mummy-round-the-bend.

Secondly, he has been randomly clicking on my bloglines and commenting on blogs. So if you have got an abusive comment blabbering on about being pre-pubescent and taking anger out on people he likes….

I am deeply, red faced embarrassed SORRY!!!

I have not finally snapped. I haven’t changed my name to Harry Potter, Homestar runner or any of the other alias’ he has assumed to slander his poor mother.

And finally one that I can’t blame on Boo. Look, I don’t like Ugg boots. As far as I am concerned they are slippers and only to be worn inside the house to keep your feet warm (I don’t even like them then, but that is my personal preference) I particularly despise these


especially when people wear them in the office. It is a running joke that people scramble to see my reaction when someone (yes I am talking about you Marie) walks in with them on….. with a freaking skirt….

Anyway, I was apologising…… I am sorry if they are your footwear of choice. I am sorry if I offended you. I am sure that you feel that you are the height of fashion and my poor choice of footwear will send me to the podiatrist in years to come and you will be able to wear your, um, shoes right up to old age.

But as I always say, grow some balls and put it in the comments section instead of emailing me privately. At least Ellen had the guts to confront me about it. *waves to Ellen and blows a kiss*



party blog has been updated

My name is Kelley and I am a comment junkie.

I cannot go to a blog and not comment.  Even the really weird ones I come across, I have to at least say ‘thanks’.  It’s only right in my twisted mind, for me to let them know I was there.

Cause I don’t want anyone thinking I was a stalker, or *gasp* rude.

I guess I have always been like this.  Hear a conversation in the line at the supermarket, I will at least make eye contact and smile.  I will strike up a conversation in line anywhere.  At the deli counter. At the hospital, washing my hands in the ‘ladies’ (I draw the line at in the stalls, I know people that do that and that is just gross! Ooh there is a ‘gross’ comment for you DooDaddy! Not as gross as your kitchen though) My girls used to look at me in awe and say ‘Mummy you know everybody‘ their innocent eyes gazing up at me in wonder.

Now they just think I am mad.

But, tonight as I sit in Boo’s room on my laptop *stroking her lovingly* waiting for him to go to sleep, but he is seeing how far he can hold his drinkbottle away from his face and still get the water in his mouth, while singing the ‘Bacon bacon bacon’ McDonalds ad, I am in a state of panic.

My comments are not getting through.

They are disappearing into the ether.

And that means that I am visiting a blog without commenting.

Does anyone have an inhaler?  A paper bag?  I am hyperventilating.

I can’t comment.

I am getting to the point where I have so many blogs to read and feeling that I have to comment that I am getting rather overwhelmed. I am avoiding blogs that I love because I know that I will want to make a long winded comment and I don’t have time.  So when I get there, there are so many to read, and comment on, and I don’t want to be rude, or a stalker and…….


That was my head exploding.

As I said.  My name is Kelley and I am a comment junkie.  It has been 10 minutes since my last attempted comment.  I have 4 windows open with 7 tabs each, full of blogs that I want to comment on, but I am too scared.

Scared that I will write a comment and it will disappear.

Perhaps I should be more concerned with the content of my comments, than the sheer number, eh?