No comment

Here's what I have: A blog that I haven't updated in 4 days, some random thoughts about comments, children interrupting me every 39 seconds for ice cream, and a title. (1)

Here's what I don't have: A point. (2)

We'll make do.

• Did I ever tell you about the time I was comment of the day on Jenny's blog? I haven't commented there since because I can't stand the thought of not being COTD. The pressure is too great.
  

• One time Marinka tweeted about a comment I left on her blog. Multi-media!
  

• Kristin once responded to a comment of mine with: "Amy, I don't even care what I write any more. I just pound out any old thing that comes into my head, just HOPING that you'll leave a comment because you're comments are so freaking *funny* : )" Is that bragging?
  

• Someone once left me a comment that said something like "thanks for leaving a comment on my blog." That's when I realized that comments beget comments. However, I'm pretty sure that person never came back. So I don't know what the lesson is.

• I base my self worth on the number of comments each entry got. The one about my kids skating got five. That makes me feel like a semi-productive member of society. Ten comments makes me look thinner.
  

• You know what irritates me? When you read someone's blog and they have like 2000 comments. I mean, doesn't person 1997 realize that Dooce that person is never going to read their comment and it's just going to hang there in cyberspace forever? Where as I print out and frame all of my comments?
  

• I've left several comments on other people's blogs recently, that I thought were pretty clever. I even thought about expanding on the idea to make a post of my own. Instead I tracked them down and cut and pasted them here. Which took like 3 times longer than writing an actual post.

In response to a post about how someone said the Craigs List killer "wouldn't hurt a fly" and how people who claim that are usually bonkers, I had this to say:

OK that reminds me of a story. Last year, I was letting Eli smash gypsy caterpillars outside the preschool and another little boy started to do it too. His mother told him to stop, because, and I quote (hence the quotation marks) "We don't do that in our family.

Then she smiled all condescendingly and said "No offense, we're just tree huggers" and I said "Well since gypsy caterpillars KILL the trees, maybe you should squoosh them."

Then I might have said "In your face" or possibly "Geech." Anyway, she moved away the following month, and I like to think it's mostly because of me.

In response to a proposal to start an online book club reading Ulysess:

Before I commit I have a few questions:

1) James Joyce's version? Cause it's really long.

2) It only got 4 stars on Amazon. Nauti Intentions got 5 stars. Shouldn't we read that since it's clearly a superior work of fiction?

1) The title is supposed to be a play on words but it really makes no sense whatsoever because, clearly, I comment.
2) Or a book deal. WTF?