Best Blog Comments of January 2012

A new year, a new crop of amazing comments. And after an amazing month on the blog. I don’t think I can pinpoint the reasons, but January was by far the best month this blog has ever had. Last year my goal was to average 500 hits a day (a goal I never reached despite steadily climbing page views), but in January the daily hit count shot up over 600 a day! Thank you, both readers new and old, for joining the conversation.

On to my favorite comments this month:

This is a first: One of the best comments of the month came from Katie on last month’s “best blog comments” post. It’s best enjoyed out of context.

Dude, I’ve seen camo lingerie before. It exists. I used to work these auctions for the National Wild Turkey Federation while I was in college to supplement my income…and becuase I thought it meant free shots of Wild Turkey bourbon all night…fooled again.

Anyway, after selling raffle tickets, I had to walk around the items during the live auction for the bidders to see. And yes, at one event they had a free night at a local hotel, a bottle of wine, and a camo teddy (The lacy, frilly kind. Not the bear). My friend and I drew straws, and I came up with the short one, and was forced to walk it around the room to cheers and shouts of “Why don’t you model it for us, honey!”

I’m pretty sure at least three of the guys thought that my companionship was part of the package, so imagine my dismay when the highest bid was only $35.

The Best Recycling of a Classic Line comes from Aaron in reference to the reason why I didn’t put Bon Iver’s album on my 2011 Playlist:

I got a sickness. And the only prescription is more falsetto.

The Best Comment I Don’t Want to Ruin by Giving It Away in This Title goes to Brad for a comment on my post about my fear of dropping babies:

My sister brought my two nieces into town last year to go to the zoo. The youngest was two years old, and her stroller was my responsibility. When we got to the wolves, she was crying. My sister said I could get her out of the stroller, so I picked her up high enough to see over the fence and into the wolf exhibit, which was about 20 feet below.

Suddenly, I felt myself overcome with the urge to hurl my own niece into the exhibit. I have no idea why. I just felt like I was going to do it whether I wanted to or not. Just throw her to the wolves, literally. I quickly rushed to my sister, handed her over and refused to touch her the rest of the day. To this day, my niece will not go near me. It’s like she knows what I was thinking, even though I didn’t want to think it.

And another from that same post (Katie’s on a roll this month). Apparently me posting about my fears brings out some great lines from readers:

Even now, I hold newborns so infrequently that it still makes me worried for a second that I’ll zig when the parents zag and the baby will end up on the floor. Or that I’ll forget to cradle the head and her floppy neck will loll around until it just snaps off. The key is to do a seated hand off. Worst case scenario there is that you fumble the baby, but she gently falls in your lap and erupts into delighted giggles, having no idea how close she came to certain death.

Before I was a mom, I hated the hand off, but the soft spot on top of a baby’s head always freaked me out too. From what I could tell, even the slightest pressure of my gentle breath wafting over the soft spot would cause both significant brain damage and a lifetime of guilt.

Here’s a good one from Trev on my post about why Rachel and Joey belong together, not Rachel and Ross (there are a lot of really good comments on this post–I’d post several of them here, but they’re long. Thanks to Ali, Neha, Tracy, Molly, Red, Adrienne, and Tegan for their thoughts and vast knowledge of Friends).

Whereas Ross is no better than those drug addict parents who sell their children for 2 crack rocks, a half-eaten bologna sandwich, and a pocketful of shame, Joey is a model of paternal care. Is it any surprise that Ben ended up cold and alone, singing for the last couple of puffs on still-lit cigarette butts and spare change, and pandering to the blogosphere in the tournament of cuteness for the approval that he never got from his dad?

Cara wins the Most Awkward Encounter with a Police Officer award for this comment on my post about weird jobs:

The most unusual job I ever had was an “In-School Scouting Leader”: I brought a scouting program into inner-city elementary schools in Los Angeles, during class time. That was fun & rewarding, though it was strange when I got pulled over once by police and had to explain why there were short lengths of rope in the back of my VW bug: “Ummm, to teach boy scouts how to tie square knots.”

Again, the comments are too long to post them here, but there was a fantastic discussion about Tim Tebow and the responsibility of athletes to be charitable on this post.

Sarah wins the award for Best Survival Story in Four Sentences on my post about my fear of keys breaking off in the lock:

As a freshman in college, I broke off the key to my truck in the ignition. As a natural consequence, I was forced to live in the dorm parking garage, subsisting on used textbooks and the mud that flakes off of car tires. That lasted for several months, until they expelled me from school for poor attendance and for scaring the undergrads with the cautionary tale I had become. The locksmith never came.

John had a good follow up to that post as well:

The reality of #2 is that your neighbors, who also cannot return to their homes, must form a tight knit community with you as their leader, surviving by eating only what they can dig out of the ground and scrape off of the surrounding walls. Without any way to recharge your cell phones, you must assume you are alone in the world and obliged to repopulate the world for the good of humanity.

And finally, new reader Caitlin had some humorous thoughts on the Mini Tournament of Cuteness:

Wait– is Bailey the supercute little green plush dude with the black dog, or is Bailey the bad dog on the furniture with the supercute little green plush dude?

I voted for Charlotte. YES! YES, I’ll be your Valentine, little umbrella girl!