Surprisingly Vehement
You never know who you’re going to offend when you start a blog, but you can generally be confident that you’ll offend someone. In this case, I seem to have run afoul of the Mendocino Fudge Boosters Association, or something. Witness this astonishing comment on a two-year old post:
I don[']t even know who you people are, but I already hate your guts. Anyone who talks shit about [M]endo[cino] should be taken out back and beaten with a[n] ugly stick. You didn’t like the fudge because you[']r[e] so used to packing each other[']s fudge. If [I] ever see you around [M]endo[cino] you better run for your dear life.
(I’ve taken the liberty of correcting some of the grammatical and spelling errors.)
It’s certainly fair to say that it’s a rather innovative take on why we might not have enjoyed the fudge we bought in Mendocino. Although I’m not willing to go into too much detail here on my sex life, I’m pretty confident that it’s not related to my confectionery preferences. Who knows; I could be wrong.
As for who I am: I’m Matt! Nice to meet you. I’m sorry we’ve gotten off on the wrong foot here; had I known just how sensitive an issue fudge was for the good people of Mendocino (after all, I did call the town itself both quaint and cute) I might have phrased my review more delicately. Let me try to make it right:
People of Mendocino! In particular, purveyors of fudge in Mendocino! If I have besmirched your good name, please accept my humblest apologies. If I ever find myself in your fair town again, I pledge to give your fudge another try… assuming I’m not running for my dear life.
Popularity: 5% [?]
If you do talk about your sex life on the blog, our hits will go way up!
For the record, I’ve never had Mendocino fudge, but I bet it’s crap.
That is utterly bizarre. I have to admit I don’t even remember the fudge from Mendocino. I wonder what that says about MY sex life?
How different is your sex life from my sex life?!
You should think about re-title this post; I was not adequately prepared for some kinky fudge/sex life thing.
And stop writing fudge. Now it looks all wrong to me.
Just thought I’d reiterate how much I abhor the fudge from Mendocino. I’ve had a million different fudges and each and every one of them scores higher on my fudge-o-meter than the crumbly dirt served by the fine folks of Mendocino. Mendocino = Good People. Bad Fudge. God, there’s nothing that sucks as bad as Mendocino Fudge.
I’d also like to point out that the person who wrote to you wants to beat you with an ugly stick. So you wouldn’t get hurt, you’d just be less attractive than before he beat you.
Also,
There’s a “get your head out of your ass” joke in there somewhere, but I haven’t found it yet.
Going off topic here since this has nothing to do with fudge or anyone’s sex life, but it was nice going back and reading your posts about my old stomping grounds (particularly the Bay Area part).
This totally just made my day!
I’m with you on the fudge — it must be slightly grainy and melt-in-your-mouth, not chewy. So I won’t even bother buying the fudge in Mendocino, though it sounds like a lovely town. And happy belated anniversary — those wedding shots are fabulous! Here’s to many more anniversaries and opportunities to jump happily into a lake.