Usually I try to be modest, but sometimes one just has to let it shine. Click on it to embiggen and see who made this for me. Confused? All will be revealed when you find the post that has more than 100 comments.
Hi Zhoen, and a welcoming (o) back atcha. Thanks for coming to celebrate my moment of glory.
Legally binding, TPE - I should jolly well coco! For I intend to use it on all my headed stationary (which at this moment I do not have, but will see to it) and my business cards (ditto), on all future job applications (unlikely, but the thought's there) - and I will generally be drawing attention to it at any and every opportunity. Just so people know the calibre of person they're dealing with. Anyway, you're a MOCDOC so you should know all about it and be giving me good advice about how to live my life hereafter. I won't let it go to my head. Well, perhaps a bit.
Vanilla, the fact that you are prepared to salute me without being fully au fait with all the details pertaining to the matter in question is very touching, and I thank you for the good faith you have demonstrated. All I can say - in the humblest possible way - is that I deserve this honour, for I did not cheat. And anyone who says so is a mashed potato. Well I did not cheat much, one has to show a bit of enterprise, skirt the borders as it were. And I am a bit mashed today, as it happens.
Dear Signs, I haven't the faintest idea what any of this is about --some strange Finnish/Anglo-German 'conjugation' but I can see that the award must be akin to an Emmy, The Booker, The Orange and and Oscar all rolled itno one so I salute and congratulate you.
I share TPE's caution -- there are a lot of letters in tacked on with that MOCDOC award. I will trust that since you are pleased, then that is all there is to it. I am pleased for you.
Thank you, Cusp - it is a very particular honour and stands alone. For many have had Booker, Emmy, Oscar etc. - but have they had 100 (plus) comments (even though some, or a lot of those were put there by me, but lets not quibble for goodness sake) on one of their posts? I think not.
Hello David, it seems that I have on this occasion thrown caution to the wind. One has to live a little. Or a lot.
hey signs, i tried to comment on your last post (at least a hundred times!) but the blog glitches gods would not let me, so here's hoping - congratulations on your anna mr-bestowed mocdoc, i will curtsey from now on whenever i come here: i truly feel i am in the presence of greatness (not that i didn't before).
and i waved to you when you were in scotland, i hope you saw me. x
No, Trousers - you were right the first time. It's exactly like the mile high club. (You need to know that I'm tapping the side of my nose here, conspiratorially, winking in a startlingly sleazy manner. Actually, you probably don't need to know that - but still.)
Signs - just a brief visit to commend Mr Witnessing for his good sense and level head. You have clearly gone perfectly doolally, I'd say, with all this praise and award-receiving, but we both clearly see the dangers of a legally binding blog award. What if you one day want to leave this cult of ours? What then?
The stationery heading is a super fine idea, neverthetheless. You have class, Signs, it's just good sense and, let's face it, decency that you lack.
Holy blessings and congratulations etc...heading to your next post anon. You can hardly wait, I'm sure.
Trousers, I was just going to give a detailed and very sensible explanation of why it is not at all like the Mile High Club but I see that His TPEness has been here. And now what am I to do? If I remonstrate it will look as though I am trying to hide something. But lovely and thoughtful I can at least go with, unreservedly, with no need to blush.
Sir TPE, if I am going doolally then clearly you and Anna must bear some of the responsibility. For it does go to one's head, like champagne. But am I complaining? And if I am a little inebriated, well you wouldn't hold that against me.
What happens if I try to leave the cult? Ooh, this has a little frisson of something - how shall I put it? - noirish. I like.
Okay. I was going to stay silent and sweet and demure, in spite of the high praise heaped upon my person by young housut of trousers (this hasn't gone unnoticed, good legwear), in spite of thoughts of stationery (excellent), in spite, even, of you wishing to leave the cult which TPE MOCDOC hints darkly at (this, I'd have to say, is a definite "Hotel California situation", much as I detest the song). Yes, I was going to just sit here and read, for once, and shut my face and not say a word.
However.
The word verification is scold - so there's nothing for it. Ah, shame on everyone here, shame and spankings. Why? I don't know. Don't shoot the messenger (just spank her. Ow).
You can check out any time you like, but you can never leave, ooh, yess!
Pssst! - TPE, Anna is being very weird - deal with it, would you? And I'll just, you know, watch.
Anna darling, hi! Shame on absolutely everyone, as you say. But was it me that raised the subject of Mile High Club? I'm squeaky clean, moi. A good girl, I am. (This gets better and better).
I think we both know that it wasn't me who brought the Mile High Club into question here, either, Signs. I think you'll find that it is me who is squeaky clean here, for once, or at the very least that I share this quality with you (separated at birth, once again). In fact, everyone knows who is to blame here, so there's nothing for it... (All rise!) Young trousers. You have been found guilty of the high crime of bringing the Mile High Club into a perfectly innocent blog comment thread. The accused will stand to hear the verdict, and hang on a moment while I don my black hat...
Oh for crying out loud. Right. All rise. Young Englishman. You have been found guilty of the high crime of tapping your nose conspiratorially, whilst winking sleazily. The accused will stand to hear the verdict, and he will stop laughing at my black hat.
I was busy acting all civilised upstairs, wearing my best china or whatever it is that civilised people do. And yet, as I paced the drawing room floor above us, down here, it seems - beneath my very regal feet - a rampaging moral malaise has set in, threatening the foundations of this once fine house.
Anna blames Trousers and you (Signs) blame me and I, most surely, blame Anna. Justice demands that Trousers blames you - and this sharing of guilt should then free us.
A great leveller, really, guilt. A way to make friends fast, anyway.
I think trousers blaming Signs sounds like a sensible solution to the embarrassing problem - quite likely, the only solution, really, sensible or not. Well done, Englishman, you clearly know about this stuff (although I am hotly surprised at you blaming me - innocent blameless little me, for goodness' sake). But anyway - I have called in the guilt-levelling cavalry in the form of formally requesting trousers to nip in to blame Signs so that we can finally lay this whole horrendous matter of the mile-high nose-tapping conspiracy to rest. Phew.
Signs? You are leaving your guests to sweat and slave over the guilt you yourself are so clearly guilty of, too. Just saying. Where the hell are you, sees?
I've been up to London to visit the Queen, Sees. To ask her to intercede for me in this matter, obviously. And while there popped in to see my daughter in a play at her drama school.
Well I can't wait to see what Trousers says. He is far to clear-sighted a person to point the finger of blame at meTPE, especially in my own house I mean to say. This getting to be a bit like an Agatha Christie story, I reckon. Who Dunnit?
I will only blame signs in her own well-kept house if she lets me - and if it means that everyone is therefore off the hook. M'lud.
Otherwise, as the person who raised the thorny subject of the Mile High Club, I am more than willing to take the entire blame (well, with a bit of it taken by Herr Englishman for his aiding and abetting and winking): I have broad shoulders you know. Well put it this way, no-one knows that I haven't.
Or was it Captain Thingy, using the lead piping in the conservatory?
Jesus wept, now we have Captain Thingy of all people making an appearance here. I just need to say, housut, blame Signs for the love of Jesus and let us all off the hook double quick.
Also, my word verification is cindegmy. This, dear friends, is undoubtedly a term for a psycho-medical spiritual procedure for de-sinning people. Most handy, given the circumstances we find ourselves in.
Neatly done, Trousers (don't be listening to the Finn) - and a quality shifting of blame onto Captain Thingy at the end there. I can see myself blaming Captain Thingy for all sorts of stuff now.
I'm sure that your shoulders are just as broad as broad can be, you know, but I happen to live with my mum in a caravan and have no hair and am built like a weedy pencil. You wouldn't think it, right enough, reading some of the stuff I come out with, but never has technology helped a man so much as the internet has helped yours truly. It's a gift, Trousers, a gift. (If you happen to pass any folk made of girl parts, however, do please keep it to yourself. There's a good fellow.)
Signs - Trousers fixed everything, relax. Although I still blame Anna and, I suppose, you. Come to think of it, Trousers and Captain Thingy, too.
I'm off to save children and lift some super heavy weights. (Anna MR - behave yourself.)
I RTS MOCDOC hereby graciously and magnanimously, as befits my station, take the blame for the outrageous shameful thing, which just at the moment I can't exactly remember the details of, but it was very very shameful - probably. Anyway, yes, it is all my fault. And. This leaves me free to blame you all for all kinds of other misdemeanour.
Anna is guilty of displaying complete unashamed brilliance in E-less composition. Clearly she operates very well under conditions of restraint but that it no excuse.
TPE is guilty of seeing manifestations of extraordinary portents in the form of birds, and possibly lions and tigers (and stop talking in the background, Anna, you don't have to back him up). Yes, as I was saying, he is guilty for seeing things that I can't see and I bet he hasn't paid 500 smackeroos for titanium varifocals.
Trousers is guilty of - er, I can't remember what exactly but I'll remember in a minute and anyway it must be a big big thing for me to have just wiped it from my mind like this. Oh yes - chocolate! He is guilty of eating a whole bar of chocolate while riding on a bus and relating this on his blog, thereby making me want some very much indeed, and me trying to avoid sugar and all. He is guilty of tempting me to stray.
But, dear peeps, magnanimous as I am, I FORGIVE YOU ALL.
Guiltily, wgmoby. Thanking you for the high praise, apologising for brilliance in restraint.
That's one hell of a post you put up, by the way. I too was very touched by your memories of your children's childhood, in particular. Congratulations would be the wrong word here (with regard to the twenty-one years, not the post, k?) - but man, you're a trooper, soldier Signs. Respect, sees.
Thank you - it felt important to do something for this day. And it feels important also to know that it has been received - not for praise (though that is lovely) but just for response.
Usually I try to be modest, but sometimes one just has to let it shine. Click on it to embiggen and see who made this for me. Confused? All will be revealed when you find the post that has more than 100 comments.
31 comments:
Congrats I am impressed. I searched a bit for 100 comments but there were no signs.
Ah - methinks you have been enlightened now.
(o)
I've seen a fair few blogging awards in my time, Signs, but this is the first one that looks like it might actually be legally binding.
You should feel proud, of course, but maybe just a little bit scared, too.
Cautiously yours,
TPE
Oh very big congratulations (embiggened congratulations in fact), Ms Signs. I can't say I understand it, but I salute you anyway! ;-)
Hi Zhoen, and a welcoming (o) back atcha. Thanks for coming to celebrate my moment of glory.
Legally binding, TPE - I should jolly well coco! For I intend to use it on all my headed stationary (which at this moment I do not have, but will see to it) and my business cards (ditto), on all future job applications (unlikely, but the thought's there) - and I will generally be drawing attention to it at any and every opportunity. Just so people know the calibre of person they're dealing with. Anyway, you're a MOCDOC so you should know all about it and be giving me good advice about how to live my life hereafter. I won't let it go to my head. Well, perhaps a bit.
Vanilla, the fact that you are prepared to salute me without being fully au fait with all the details pertaining to the matter in question is very touching, and I thank you for the good faith you have demonstrated. All I can say - in the humblest possible way - is that I deserve this honour, for I did not cheat. And anyone who says so is a mashed potato. Well I did not cheat much, one has to show a bit of enterprise, skirt the borders as it were. And I am a bit mashed today, as it happens.
I shall call you Dame Signs from now on. :-)
Hey, I'm a generous sort of soul, particularly towards mashed potatoes - what else can I say!
;-)
Collin, I immediately think of Dame Edna Everage! But that's ok - I mean s/he's quite impressive, and so am I, clearly.
Vanilla, as long as we don't say the P word.
Dear Signs, I haven't the faintest idea what any of this is about --some strange Finnish/Anglo-German 'conjugation' but I can see that the award must be akin to an Emmy, The Booker, The Orange and and Oscar all rolled itno one so I salute and congratulate you.
Hurrah for Signs !
I share TPE's caution -- there are a lot of letters in tacked on with that MOCDOC award. I will trust that since you are pleased, then that is all there is to it. I am pleased for you.
It is a lovely award.
Thank you, Cusp - it is a very particular honour and stands alone. For many have had Booker, Emmy, Oscar etc. - but have they had 100 (plus) comments (even though some, or a lot of those were put there by me, but lets not quibble for goodness sake) on one of their posts? I think not.
Hello David, it seems that I have on this occasion thrown caution to the wind. One has to live a little. Or a lot.
hey signs, i tried to comment on your last post (at least a hundred times!) but the blog glitches gods would not let me, so here's hoping - congratulations on your anna mr-bestowed mocdoc, i will curtsey from now on whenever i come here: i truly feel i am in the presence of greatness (not that i didn't before).
and i waved to you when you were in scotland, i hope you saw me. x
NMJ, I do not like the sound of these blog glitches - no, not at all.
Thank you for the curtsey - I am trying not to let it go to my head. Lying down a lot is a great - er - leveller, if you get my drift.
Aw, bless ms mr, she's lovely and thoughtful.
And this is wonderful - like a blogging equivalent of the mile high club.....except in certain crucial respects...
I didn't think this through really did I? But this is great :)
No, Trousers - you were right the first time. It's exactly like the mile high club. (You need to know that I'm tapping the side of my nose here, conspiratorially, winking in a startlingly sleazy manner. Actually, you probably don't need to know that - but still.)
Signs - just a brief visit to commend Mr Witnessing for his good sense and level head. You have clearly gone perfectly doolally, I'd say, with all this praise and award-receiving, but we both clearly see the dangers of a legally binding blog award. What if you one day want to leave this cult of ours? What then?
The stationery heading is a super fine idea, neverthetheless. You have class, Signs, it's just good sense and, let's face it, decency that you lack.
Holy blessings and congratulations etc...heading to your next post anon. You can hardly wait, I'm sure.
Fiercely attractive regards,
TPE
Trousers, I was just going to give a detailed and very sensible explanation of why it is not at all like the Mile High Club but I see that His TPEness has been here. And now what am I to do? If I remonstrate it will look as though I am trying to hide something. But lovely and thoughtful I can at least go with, unreservedly, with no need to blush.
Sir TPE, if I am going doolally then clearly you and Anna must bear some of the responsibility. For it does go to one's head, like champagne. But am I complaining? And if I am a little inebriated, well you wouldn't hold that against me.
What happens if I try to leave the cult? Ooh, this has a little frisson of something - how shall I put it? - noirish. I like.
Okay. I was going to stay silent and sweet and demure, in spite of the high praise heaped upon my person by young housut of trousers (this hasn't gone unnoticed, good legwear), in spite of thoughts of stationery (excellent), in spite, even, of you wishing to leave the cult which TPE MOCDOC hints darkly at (this, I'd have to say, is a definite "Hotel California situation", much as I detest the song). Yes, I was going to just sit here and read, for once, and shut my face and not say a word.
However.
The word verification is scold - so there's nothing for it. Ah, shame on everyone here, shame and spankings. Why? I don't know. Don't shoot the messenger (just spank her. Ow).
(God how I wish I'd been allowed to shut up.)
You can check out any time you like, but you can never leave, ooh, yess!
Pssst! - TPE, Anna is being very weird - deal with it, would you? And I'll just, you know, watch.
Anna darling, hi! Shame on absolutely everyone, as you say. But was it me that raised the subject of Mile High Club? I'm squeaky clean, moi. A good girl, I am. (This gets better and better).
I think we both know that it wasn't me who brought the Mile High Club into question here, either, Signs. I think you'll find that it is me who is squeaky clean here, for once, or at the very least that I share this quality with you (separated at birth, once again). In fact, everyone knows who is to blame here, so there's nothing for it... (All rise!) Young trousers. You have been found guilty of the high crime of bringing the Mile High Club into a perfectly innocent blog comment thread. The accused will stand to hear the verdict, and hang on a moment while I don my black hat...
Yes, but Anna, who was it that tapped his nose conspiratorially and winked in a sleazy manner? Not meaning to stir things up or anything, but -
Oh for crying out loud. Right. All rise. Young Englishman. You have been found guilty of the high crime of tapping your nose conspiratorially, whilst winking sleazily. The accused will stand to hear the verdict, and he will stop laughing at my black hat.
Wow. This thread went bad quickly.
I was busy acting all civilised upstairs, wearing my best china or whatever it is that civilised people do. And yet, as I paced the drawing room floor above us, down here, it seems - beneath my very regal feet - a rampaging moral malaise has set in, threatening the foundations of this once fine house.
Anna blames Trousers and you (Signs) blame me and I, most surely, blame Anna. Justice demands that Trousers blames you - and this sharing of guilt should then free us.
A great leveller, really, guilt. A way to make friends fast, anyway.
I think trousers blaming Signs sounds like a sensible solution to the embarrassing problem - quite likely, the only solution, really, sensible or not. Well done, Englishman, you clearly know about this stuff (although I am hotly surprised at you blaming me - innocent blameless little me, for goodness' sake). But anyway - I have called in the guilt-levelling cavalry in the form of formally requesting trousers to nip in to blame Signs so that we can finally lay this whole horrendous matter of the mile-high nose-tapping conspiracy to rest. Phew.
Signs? You are leaving your guests to sweat and slave over the guilt you yourself are so clearly guilty of, too. Just saying. Where the hell are you, sees?
I've been up to London to visit the Queen, Sees. To ask her to intercede for me in this matter, obviously. And while there popped in to see my daughter in a play at her drama school.
Well I can't wait to see what Trousers says. He is far to clear-sighted a person to point the finger of blame at me TPE, especially in my own house I mean to say. This getting to be a bit like an Agatha Christie story, I reckon. Who Dunnit?
I will only blame signs in her own well-kept house if she lets me - and if it means that everyone is therefore off the hook. M'lud.
Otherwise, as the person who raised the thorny subject of the Mile High Club, I am more than willing to take the entire blame (well, with a bit of it taken by Herr Englishman for his aiding and abetting and winking): I have broad shoulders you know. Well put it this way, no-one knows that I haven't.
Or was it Captain Thingy, using the lead piping in the conservatory?
Jesus wept, now we have Captain Thingy of all people making an appearance here. I just need to say, housut, blame Signs for the love of Jesus and let us all off the hook double quick.
Also, my word verification is cindegmy. This, dear friends, is undoubtedly a term for a psycho-medical spiritual procedure for de-sinning people. Most handy, given the circumstances we find ourselves in.
Neatly done, Trousers (don't be listening to the Finn) - and a quality shifting of blame onto Captain Thingy at the end there. I can see myself blaming Captain Thingy for all sorts of stuff now.
I'm sure that your shoulders are just as broad as broad can be, you know, but I happen to live with my mum in a caravan and have no hair and am built like a weedy pencil. You wouldn't think it, right enough, reading some of the stuff I come out with, but never has technology helped a man so much as the internet has helped yours truly. It's a gift, Trousers, a gift. (If you happen to pass any folk made of girl parts, however, do please keep it to yourself. There's a good fellow.)
Signs - Trousers fixed everything, relax. Although I still blame Anna and, I suppose, you. Come to think of it, Trousers and Captain Thingy, too.
I'm off to save children and lift some super heavy weights. (Anna MR - behave yourself.)
Dearest darling loonies,
I RTS MOCDOC hereby graciously and magnanimously, as befits my station, take the blame for the outrageous shameful thing, which just at the moment I can't exactly remember the details of, but it was very very shameful - probably. Anyway, yes, it is all my fault. And. This leaves me free to blame you all for all kinds of other misdemeanour.
Anna is guilty of displaying complete unashamed brilliance in E-less composition. Clearly she operates very well under conditions of restraint but that it no excuse.
TPE is guilty of seeing manifestations of extraordinary portents in the form of birds, and possibly lions and tigers (and stop talking in the background, Anna, you don't have to back him up). Yes, as I was saying, he is guilty for seeing things that I can't see and I bet he hasn't paid 500 smackeroos for titanium varifocals.
Trousers is guilty of - er, I can't remember what exactly but I'll remember in a minute and anyway it must be a big big thing for me to have just wiped it from my mind like this. Oh yes - chocolate! He is guilty of eating a whole bar of chocolate while riding on a bus and relating this on his blog, thereby making me want some very much indeed, and me trying to avoid sugar and all. He is guilty of tempting me to stray.
But, dear peeps, magnanimous as I am, I FORGIVE YOU ALL.
MWAH!
Guiltily, wgmoby. Thanking you for the high praise, apologising for brilliance in restraint.
That's one hell of a post you put up, by the way. I too was very touched by your memories of your children's childhood, in particular. Congratulations would be the wrong word here (with regard to the twenty-one years, not the post, k?) - but man, you're a trooper, soldier Signs. Respect, sees.
Mwah right back atcha.
Thank you - it felt important to do something for this day. And it feels important also to know that it has been received - not for praise (though that is lovely) but just for response.
Right then, carry on being brilliant.
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