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One of the bad aspects of Facebook is that grammar/punctuation mistakes are out there for friends to see. It’s good for a grammarian like me, though, who can use mistakes as fodder for her blog. Here are three mistakes I’ve seen too often in the past week.*

“Awe”
Many people write this when they mean “aw,” as in an exclamation of dismay or some other sentiment. “Awe” conveys wonder or respect.
Example: “I am in awe of her inability to use ‘aw’ correctly.”

“Whenever”
Don’t confuse “whenever” with “when.” “Whenever” means that something always happens. “When” means it happened once.
Example 1: “When I went to the store yesterday, I bought Brussels sprouts.”
Example 2: “Whenever I go to the store, I buy beer.”

“Myself”
If you want to identify yourself in a photo, just use “me” or “I,” depending on the sentence. Don’t write “Charles and myself at graduation” or whatever.
Example: “This is a photo of Royce, Trish and me competing in the Bobbing for Pigs’ Feet event at the Redneck Games.”

I know Facebook is a fun forum, but let’s try not to butcher the language. Thanks.

(Uh oh. Do I hear the sound of dozens of “unfriend” clicks?)

* No images of the offenders’ comments; I don’t want to embarrass them publicly.

Warning: This post is a rumination on Hanson. Yes, the band.

I don’t watch much daytime television — who has the time? — but I do like a little Judge Mathis. Today, I had 30 minutes between tasks, and I went searching for my judge friend.

I found “Hanson: Best of 5 of 5” on Palladia. (What the heck is Palladia?) I’m not ashamed to say that I like me some Hanson. I have been known to sing “MMMBop” in class, much to the (equal parts) joy and chagrin of students. It’s on my favorite iTunes playlist. However, I am not familiar with their oeuvre.

This is how I pictured them prior to stumbling upon the show:

I remember when Taylor was the “cute one,” Zac was the “young one” and Isaac was, bless his heart, not the “cute one.”

Years have passed. Things have changed. They’re all grown up, and are all kind of cute now (although I do wonder about Taylor’s penchant for suspenders, as evidenced by the Palladia show).

I watched the whole show, and enjoyed every moment. They are talented; their songs are solid. And even the melancholy Taylor was grinning like a fool during “MMMBop.” How could he not?

Don’t judge me.

Six-word reviews

Writing succinctly is an art.

It’s why I like to teach Writing and New Media. New media is all about writing many little bits.*

It’s why I’m fascinated with six-word memoirs.

It’s why I’d like to write six-word movie reviews.

“Priest”
Paul Bettany needs a better agent.

“Thor”
Please take off your shirt again.

“Mr. Popper’s Penguins”
I thought it would be worse.“Super 8”
Like “E.T.,” “Goonies?” You’ll like this.

“The Hangover Part II”
Same story. Different city. Still funny.

“Pirates of the Caribbean: On Stranger Tides”
Even my boyfriend couldn’t save it.

“Bridesmaids”
Best movie out: Hollywood take note.

I think I have a future. Anyone willing to pay for it?

* That’s a fact some of the students in my class didn’t really seem to grasp when they noted there wasn’t much long-form writing in the class. Sigh.

Sign makers are having a really tough time.

From Nate:

Do you have to wear a tux to work out?

From Charlotte:

Let's do a preposition review, shall we?

From Jacque:

And while we're at it, let's review apostrophes, commas and writing succinctly too.

From Aimee:

(Hmmm ... Where to start? ...) I don't know that I want to see someone with an "entergetic" face. And I'd rather experience a frappuccino in Starbucks.

From Whitney, via imgur.com:

Just as I'm passing on experiencing the meat clerks, I'm passing on this kind of dinner.

If there is any question that there is an obesity epidemic in America, then I suggest a trip to Summer Waves (or really any water or theme park).

You know what else has reached epidemic proportions?

Bad tattoos.

You can find those at Summer Waves also.

Did she give the baby the tattoo gun and let him have at it?

You know what his destiny is? The ER after a heart attack.

¿Que carajo es eso? A snake? Hamburglar? Dopey from the Seven Dwarves?

Is this a permanent immunity necklace? Immunity from normal relationships, I'd bet.

What IS this? Maybe a wave of humiliation surrounded by kanji for "I'm a dumbass with no taste."

I spy with my little eye a penguin on a doughnut, one of those freaky intestinal tapeworms, a rabid bunny, and an ode to Wesley (as in Dread Pirate Roberts? As you wish.)

Tattoo-watching = more interesting than waterslides!

In honor of the guys who corrected typos across America, I decided to make a difference in the bathroom of the restaurant across the street from where I work.

(Don’t let your mind wander to unpleasant things. I’m still talking about fixing typos. There’s a chalkboard wall in there.)

One small step for a man; one giant leap for mankind.

Summer is starting to bring out the “best” in my redneck neighbors. I’ve mentioned some springtime idiocy, but the summer offers something different.

I’ve been collecting stories about the neighbors — whom Eddie and I have named Serial Killer, Beekeeper, Ghost, Refrigerator Box, The Preacher, Prophetess, Auburn, Professor, Shirtless George, Big Screen, Fish Trapper and Kurt Land — but today’s post is about Mr. Gun. Mr. B.B. Gun.

We live on a small lake and we were enjoying the serenity (Serenity now!) while feeding the geese.

Suddenly, we heard gunshots (which, incidentally, is why we left our last neighborhood, Cracktown).

We look up and see this:

Our neighbor is throwing out fish food, then shooting the fish with his BB gun.

Seriously? It is too much trouble to get out a pole? Why not just skip right to dynamite?

I called the local police department to see if such activity is legal in our area. I got voice mail.

Sigh.

Feeling a little fetal

Well-meaning women sometimes say to me, “I just don’t know how you do it.” I could be wrong, but I think they are referring to the fact that I have a family and a full-time job, plus the completion of a doctoral degree looming over my head, yet I manage to bathe and dress myself, show up on time to all the places I need to be, and try to exhibit some sense while I’m there.

Lately, my stock answer for that well-intentioned comment is, “Well, I don’t, really.”

I’m not trying to be snarky; I just feel like I’m only barely keeping myself together. There’s some half-assery going on. Hence the extended time between posts on this blog.

And last week, I had a fetal-position moment that resolved itself only through Eddie rubbing slow circles on my back and speaking in low tones — you know, the way you speak to some rabid animal that’s gotten between you and your back door. I’m sure he wished he could consult some kind of Wife Manual.

Anyway, when I am feeling low, I like to cheer myself up with Damn You, Auto Correct! There I find treasures like this:

There now … Don’t you feel better? I know I do.

From Blitchton, here’s proof of functional illiteracy in America.

(Thank you, Royce, for bringing this into my life.)

Dominic’s wisdom

Dominic has been offering a stream of one-liners this week. Here are three:

He was scratching my back and asked me what the straps were. I explained the concept of a bra, and likened it to boys wearing underwear to support their bits. He wanted to know more.

D: Why can’t I wear one?
Me: Because you don’t have breasts and there’s nothing to support.
D: Daddy’s chest sticks out.
Me: Yes. He has pectoral muscles not breasts.
D: Well my muscles are going to stick out too because I eat my vegetables.



This morning’s goodbye kiss with Eddie was a little longer than usual. Then we noticed Dominic looking at us and smiling.

D: That’s just like in the movies!



Tonight he was wrestling with Gideon, and Gideon got hurt and started crying.

Me: How many times have I told you not to play like that?
D: A thousand.


That’s my son!