The old spam filter here at Thrilling Days of Yesteryear has really been earning its keep the past day or so thanks to the tenacious individual above, who answers to “llq” and has been commenting up a storm on past posts, trying to turn my pretty head with blatantly shameless flattery like “Possibly the most amazing blog I read all year!” (you really need to get around the Internets more) and “Vivacious Blog – Full life and energy” (odd…I’m still experiencing a tired, rundown feeling). The one comment that Mr. or Mrs. llq keeps posting that has me a bit stumped reads “You have some sth~~”—and if anyone out there in Blogland can explain to me what the hell that means, I welcome your interpretation. (I mean, if this “sth” is on my shirt I should probably go and put on a clean one.)
So you may be wondering “What have I…what have I…what have I done to deserve this?” (Although that could be Dusty Springfield and the Pet Shop Boys playing on my Winamp.) Well, this devoted fandom from my latest groupie apparently involves a little quid pro quo—after each one of these stirring blog testimonials llq clumsily inserts links to merchandise: “vintage” wedding dresses with “lace sleeves,” Christian Louboutin fur boots (I don’t even know who in blue blazes Louboutin is…I’m wearing a Daffy Duck T-shirt with “sth” on it, ferchrissake), cheap mobile phones, etc. There’s even a link in their comments to “mermaid wedding dresses” and, again, because I am fashion-impaired the only motivation for me to be interested in something like that would be if the contents of the dress contained Glynis Johns (Miranda, Mad About Men).
I just thought I’d take a minute or two out of my frightfully busy schedule to poke merciless fun at this bananahead and to simply say “Knock it off.” I admire your persistent attempts to hawk your spam-encrusted line of clothing here at TDOY, but not all your adulation for my blog is caught by Blogger’s filter…and because I must physically delete it myself it’s really getting on my wick. If you’re harboring the delusion that I’m going to eventually throw my hands up in surrender and say “Oh, what’s the harm in letting poor llq tout a bridal jacket or two?” you need to ask your nurse for a little extra medication.
As llq might say: “I agree with many points. But in some areas, I feel we need to be more aggressive. Just my opinion. Love ya.” Right back atcha, babe.