Club Comment

“Tom!  Tom! Guess what!”  I was shouting hysterically trying not to pee myself in excitement.   

“I have been Freshly Pressed!  My post is featured on the Word Press homepage!”

I was jumping in circles.  This time I was waiting for the elusive genie to come high-five me.  As usual, he left me hanging.

I imagine my hysteria was similar to the women who end up on Oprah’s Favorite Things show but instead of cars and pants, it was Oprah shouting while pointing at me, “And you get a comment!”  

Words cannot express how flattered I am that not only my post Suburban Worries was Freshly Pressed but also how awesome all of the feedback has been.  I have received so many great comments; I would love more than anything to respond to each one of them – the stories and opinions you have shared are fantastic – but as we all know, that would take a lot of time.  So much time, that in the most extreme example I can think of, I would have to quit my job, move into a cardboard box and start writing about my newest home worries.  I imagine it involving a lot of fights with alley cats and shopping cart adventures.  But I digress. 

After a lot of thought, I have come up with a better way to acknowledge these comments.  Each week, I will have a post called Club Comment, where I will highlight and respond to excerpts of my favorite comments.  

Without further ado, here are some comments from this week:

 On Suburban Worries

Walkingthecat wrote: Great article! My husband moved from the inner city to suburbia about three years ago. We solved the inner conflict by just resigning to be the Addams family of our neighborhood — we put bat houses on our façade and I go for barefoot walks with my one-eyed cat on a leash….

 I wish you were my neighbor.  I LOVE a cat on a leash.  It’s hilarious.  When I lived in the city, there was a girl in the building next door who always walked her cat on a leash.  I used to watch creepily out my window desperately wanting to pet the cat.  Finally, one day I worked up the courage and asked if I could pet it.  Turns out, his name was Timmy. 

I’m pretty sure Timmy’s owner thought I was a giant weirdo. If only she knew,  I took pictures of him from my apartment window.

Timmy, the Cat

This is the photo of Timmy I took from my window. I'm a creep.


Just With Me wrote:  
I am obsessed with my neighbors’ trash and am convinced that my next door neighbor is a serial killer.

Oh!  I feel your pain.  Like an idiot, I watched America’s Most Wanted one Saturday afternoon (I have a crazy imagination and should not watch crime shows).  For the rest of my tenure in The Tuxedo, I was convinced one of my neighbors was one of the most wanted.  I could never look him in the eye again.

Pecsbowen wrote: You forgot to describe your weekends in the suburbs

I was trying to avoid the topic of the weekend.  What thirty year old wants to admit she regularly goes out to dinner with the Senior crowd at six o’clock,  followed by glow golf in the mall where the average age is ten? 

I just described a real date night Tom and I had.  Glow golf was my idea.  I apologize to this day for that terrible idea.  

Reader Area Development wrote: Let me tell you what, there is a garbage can in my neighbors drive way that is three days past pick up. I am at an 8 with anger. Plan on getting real fat, the suburbs has a knack for that.

I love the optimism in this comment.

 MaxPower wrote: Welcome to the suburban wasteland. I’ve lived in it all my life. When I moved out and bought my house I didn’t know any better so I ended up in the same place. If I was smart I would have moved to a small town. The suburbs are great for someone without anxiety problems. I spend most of my time hiding from my neighbors. They scare me.

STOP HIDING.  Your neighbors (and I’m talking about me) want to be your friend.  Well, as long as you keep your trash in your own yard.

On Mom Jeans….

Jessseeker wrote: Step away from the mum jeans… put down that cookie

Ha!  I love her adverse reaction to the thought of Mum jeans.  I also love the word mum.  My sister, Lana, bought me a shirt in London that says, I facebooked your Mum.  I smile every time I wear it.

Emily January wrote: Ah, the dreaded choice between being in style and being comfortable. I still waffle on that one every day.

Me too!  If I could wear sweatpants every day I would.  Unfortunately, sweat pants is on the list of things we aren’t allowed to wear in the office; that and bib-dresses.  Who owns a bib-dress anyways?

On Life as a Pinhead…

Madelicious wrote: I have a small head as well! I got it from my mother. Neither of us feel comfortable in hats, and she’s always giving me advice on how to make my hair as large as possible, what kinds of haircuts to get and how to pile it on top of my head. It’s all about the illusion.

Now, if only big bangs and teased hair would come back into style, I’m all set!  Seriously, I should have been a teenager in the eighties.

Thanks again for all the feedback!  I’ve loved every bit of it.

 

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3 thoughts on “Club Comment

  1. How can I be the only comment on this post? Maybe I’m in the vanguard, despite being in (at least, if not farther than) the suburbs! I’m pretty sure suburbia doesn’t allow cardboard box residences. They just want the houses to look like them. Congrats again, and what a cool way you chose to spread the enthusiasm.

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