Time for Revenge

    I think it's time to address some of the comments I received on my blog last week.  


    The first ones I would like to tackle were posted on:  

He Hates White Women!!!

    Remember how I wrote about the man who hates American, white women?

    Well, here are two comments I got on that blog:

Anonymous said...

BOYCOTT AMERICAN WOMEN! Are you a man who is interested in marrying indian women? Please visit Indian-Wife.com, India's 1st International Marriage Bride Site: http://www.indian-wife.com

    The comment nearly threw me into a fit of hysterics because it is so funny.  It's not what they're advertising, but the point that they're advertising on my blog at all.  I have received so many comments like this.  For example, I wrote about meeting the computer guys, and the other post about mowing my lawn. 
       Here are those links: 

Star Trek Saved My Life 

I'm sick of looking incompetent! 

     On both of those posts, I got spam comments: one trying to sell online computer repair support with a link from Dell or something, and one trying to sell lawn mowers.  If you're a blogger, I'm sure you've come across this type of thing before; it still cracks me up though.

The second comment is this one:

Anonymous said...

OH HOW CUTE!!! POOR WITTLE BABY IS UPSET BECAUSE MEN ARE BOYCOTTING HER!!!
Well, American women still have two options:
1. become a lesbian or 2. get used to living alone with your 10 cats
No man wants to touch you horrible pathetic subhuman monsters called American women anymore, and the facts prove this: over 50 percent of American women are single.
But, you can still become a lesbian, so you still have at least that option available.

    My advice for this person is, yes maybe you talk with a lisp wisp.  But that doesn't mean you have to TYPE with one!  I'm sorry someone hurt you so badly.  
    Oh, and . . . Cats rock!

     So, I got those comments on 8/25, but the comments that absolutely stole the cake--the words which scream for revenge--I got those yesterday! 
    If you don't remember, yesterday I wrote about Adoption . . . and a Dog.  At a young age, my brother told me I was adopted, and that a dog was my mother.  Well, apparently he remembers it differently.  
Here are the comments I read last night!

On August 27, 2011 9:50 PM, Shane, my dear, sweet, charming, Manly-Leg Crossing brother wrote:

I remember it being a cow when I said that, a really ugly cow. How else can you explain that milky white skin of yours. Our mother IS Italian after all... But your first reaction was so priceless that it turned into an ongoing gag. Perhaps I am remembering a different instance with the cow. Watching realization that I was kidding dawn over your eleven year old mind was priceless, too good to let go of. I was just teasing my little sister, right? Or was I...?

    This comment did bring doubt to my mind again.  Like an ugly bat fluttering where it doesn't belong, my mind wandered through all the things that separate my appearance from that of my family!

    I suffered with those feelings, delving into a doubt long forgotten.  Then I read the following comment from anonymous: 

    My conscience is weighing on me, Elisa. All those years ago, when I said you were adopted, I was telling the truth. Your reaction was so dramatic at the time that I panicked. It wasn't my place to tell you anyway, so I did the only thing I could, I latched onto the first thing I saw and pretended I was making a joke. The whole family decided it should be a secret forever. But seeing your post today made me realize we were wrong. You deserve to know the truth of your origins. I think you're strong enough now and have the right to know. At first I didn't think I'd find her, your mother by blood that is, and then the most amazing thing happened. I found the following website. 

Click here: The Lonely Cow

Readers,
    Visit that site if you dare.  Witness the sacrilege unfolding before us.  But then, after visiting the site, I beg you to pity my poor brother because the time has come to open a can of literary whoop ass on that man.  Maybe I'm not as tall as him; maybe he can still beat me at Mario Kart and Smash Brothers online . . . maybe my mother really was a cow, but hopefully cows are good at taking REVENGE!
    
Shane,
    Please tread carefully.  The last time someone made me mad, I arranged for a co-worker to hang blue balls from the back of the culprit's truck.  Don't believe me?  Read here:

The Crazy Life of a Writing Mom: The Best Prank Ever!

 
    So, in closing, does anyone have advice for me?  
(Beware of what you write here though, brotherly eyes may be watching!)