Kat Dancing

When I receive seventeen messages in my inbox, all proporting to be comments from my blog, I'm suspicious. I mean, discussions of the Tape Monster aren't that funny.

Nope. Comment-spammed.

So, seventeen blog entries later, I think I've deleted all the invitations for y'all to come buy Viagra (or Valium, depending on the nature of your personal problem. One of those V is bound to do the trick.) I only noticed on the last few a particularly cute touch at the bottom of each comment:

Don't like us posting in your blog. Just email me at AliceWalker@postmaster.co.uk and you will never hear from us again.

Well, mofo, actually I believe I'll just ban your IP. Sounds a wee bit more effective to me.

And after that, I suppose I'll go download some of those plugins I didn't before, because no one would bother spamming a blog this small and insignificant.

Annoyed now.

Why is it that you can never find tape when you need it? I've finally gotten to the saturation point where I do find tape, after ten minutes of looking and just when I'm about to give up, but then I've bought, at a conservative estimate, eight rolls of tape in the past few months. How many more do I have to buy before I can just lay my hands on a bit of tape when I want it? Ten? Twenty? Fifty?

Screw it. I'm going back to wrapping my presents with duct tape.