Verbal Abuse (new & improved)

One morning, my son told me, “I play this Nintendo game good.” I said, “No. You play it well. Well is an adverb, adverbs modify verbs, and to play is a verb. Good (in this instance) is an adjective. Adjectives modify nouns.” After I realized (again) that I sounded like Charlie Brown’s teacher to him, he asked, “Why aren’t they called adnouns? Shouldn’t adjectives modify jectives?” He totally missed the point.

The majority of my friends, acquaintances, reader(s), and healthcare providers are well-aware that I am a bit of a stickler when it comes to proper grammar, spelling, and punctuation. Hell, spelling ability was one of the top five reasons I married my husband or even dated him in the first place. And I’m proud to say that both of my children know the difference between “your” and “you’re” and the difference between “its” and “it’s,” which is a lot more than I can say for most adults I know. I have convinced my family that the only thing worse than misplacing my keys is misplacing a modifier. They pretend to know what a gerund is so as not to upset my fragile psyche. And they know all-too-well that dangling a participle in front of me is an open invitation for my unbridled wrath to rain down upon them. I don’t care what you say, as long as you say it, spell it, or punctuate it correctly.

If someone were to write me a note that said, “go to hell bitch.” I would return it to them with red marks showing that the word “go” should be capitalized, the word “hell” needs a comma after it, and the word “bitch” needs a capital “B” (because it refers to Me). I might also suggest that the statement end with an exclamation mark instead of a period. I once saw this painted on the side of a truck: “Quality at it’s best!” All I could think was: punctuation at its worst. I guess not everyone can care about apostrophe misuse the way I do.

Then there are the commonly mispronounced words and phrases. My peeves are the butcherings of the words mischievous and supposedly. When I hear “miss-chee-vee-ous,” I throw up in my mouth a little bit. When I hear “supposably,” I roll my eyes until they get stuck. And why does 90% of the American population say “sherbert” when it is spelled and pronounced “sherbet?” There is only one R in it. I don’t much care for sherbet anyway, but when people mispronounce it, I really have no use for that shit at all. And why do so many people pronounce “asterisk” as “asterick?” Does it have anything to do with the phenomenon that causes some people to say “aks” instead of “ask?” I am also plagued by commonly misspoken phrases like these:

“At your beckon call" is incorrect. The operative phrase is actually “beck and call” (this mistake is almost forgivable because the word beckon actually means “to summon” and in fact the word beck is simply a shortened form of beckon.) Come to think of it, “beck and call” is a bit redundant, isn’t it? However, I will often respond to a call, but I shun becks at every opportunity. One similar but unforgivable and dry-heave-inducing error is “For all intensive purposes.” It is actually, “For all intents and purposes,” which is also somewhat redundant. Even if a trite phrase is ridiculous, it should still be uttered accurately. The worst offender of all misspoken phrases has got to be the transmogrification of “all of a sudden” into “all the sudden.” That one puts me into such an internal tizzy that I usually have to run to the nearest restroom. I once heard someone say, "He takes me for granite." Seriously? Well at least he doesn't take you for Formica. And when did it become acceptable for people to use “of” instead of “have”? As in, “I should of?” It is especially offensive when paired with the wrong verb, as in, “I should of went with you.” Oh, you mean, you should have gone with me? Well, I’m glad you didn’t because you can’t talk. A phrase I hear a lot that makes no sense: "I miss not seeing you!" What? You miss not seeing me? Gee, thanks. I could say that to a lot of people who are up in my face far too often, "Hey, you who won't leave me alone, I really miss your absence." A couple of French words or phrases that Americans can never say correctly are armoire and coup de grace. I don’t mean that they should be pronounced with a French accent. That would be pompous. (No offense to my pompous friends.) They should just be pronounced the French way, but in American English. Armoire is not “arm-wah” and coup de grace is not “coo-day-grah.” The French do say the endings of some of their words. The bottom line with me is if you can’t pronounce coup de grace, use some other phrase. I even saw it spelled somewhere like this: cou de gras, which I think kind of means neck of fat. Not really the meaning they were going for. There is one mispronunciation I like and intend to employ at every opportunity. I once heard someone say anticdote when they meant anecdote. I think that pronunciation might be more apt when the anecdote involves antics of some sort. I don't care for anecdotes without antics, ergo, I prefer anticdotes and decided right then that I would henceforth pronounce anecdote that way. Any dull anecdotes I hear will not be referred to as anticdotes, but rather, antidotes. As in: "that story was a real buzzkill, the ultimate party-mood antidote."

And don’t get me started on inadequate spelling. I live in a relatively large city with its share of under-educated and irresponsible people. (This may seem off-topic, but stick with me.) It is a known fact that too many animals are having unprotected sex. The combination of spelling-challenged adults and sexually indiscriminate dogs leads to signs like this: “4-Sell: Brown Chi-Wa-Wa’s” and “Free Doxen puppy’s.” I would have taken pictures of these gems, but that’s just the sort of obscenity I can’t abide. I’ll have porn on my phone before I’ll carry around misspelled and mis-punctuated words. I once saw a grocery-store cake emblazoned with fancy blue lettering that said, "SUPRISE!" As in, "Surprise! We misspelled the sentiment on your cake because we're illiterate, but that's okay because so are you!" I doubt anyone noticed it. Had I ordered a cake and arrived to find a misspelled word on it, I would have sent it back for a correction. Not just for my own peace of mind, but also to take an opportunity to offer a helpful spelling lesson and to prevent such a tragedy from happening again.

Because I don’t trust my children’s teachers, I take advantage of every opportunity to train my kids to respect, revere, and regularly employ basic grammar rules. If any other children (or adults for that matter) are within earshot, all the better for them. One of my biggest challenges over the past few years has been drilling it into the kids’ heads that “me” cannot be the subject of a standard sentence. Here are some examples:

My son: “Me and him were making up jokes about our nuts.”

Me: “Me was doing what? . . . Him was do-ing what?”

My son: “Making up jokes about our nuts.”

Me: “You should say, ‘He and I were making up jokes about our nuts.’”

. . . .

My daughter: “Me and Lily and Maddie are so hot for Brance.”

Me: “Me is so hot for whom?”

My daughter: “I don’t know whom you’re hot for, Mom, but we’re hot for Brance.”

. . . .

Likewise, “I” cannot be the object of a sentence:

My daughter: “Take a picture of Brooke and I.”

Me: “Take a picture of I?”

My daughter: “No, she and I.”

Me: “Take a picture of she and take a picture of I?”

My daughter: “No, of me and Brooke.”

Me: “Thank you.”

Now, I don’t pretend or profess to be the World’s Greatest Expert on the English language. (Well, sometimes I do pretend to be.) I only got a bachelor’s degree in English. It’s not as if I did something crazy like get a Ph.D. in grammar:

“Oh, you have a Ph.D.? So you’re a ‘doctor.’ Doctor of what, may I ask?”

“Thanks for asking. I have a Ph.D. in English grammar. I’m a grammar doctor. Can I edit something for you?”

I believe my linguistic superiority, whether it is real or imagined, can be somewhat off-putting to anyone who wants to speak (or God forbid, write) in my presence. I wonder if they bite their tongues lest I mentally edit each word they utter. This, of course, works to my advantage because (1) I don’t have to listen to other people talk and (2) I get to talk more. And let’s face it; wouldn’t most of you rather listen to me?

As I have stated before, any so-called errors I may have made (or may make) in this book are actually intentional examples of the poetic license I am entitled to by virtue of my obvious genius in this unpopular and endangered arena.

I know what you’re thinking:

(1) How pathetic is she that this is her only talent?

(2) Why must she try to make herself feel important by mocking and looking down on those less grammatically fortunate?

(3) Why does she abuse her children this way?

The answers:

(1) I have other talents that I am not as proud of,

(2) Therefore, I need to boost my self-esteem at the expense of others, and

(3) My kids will make me look good later when I can tell people they have Ph.D.s.

Jesus H. Christ (expanded version)

Jesus Christ and his mom, the Virgin Mary, have been known to visit keen observers when they cause their likenesses to appear in the most unlikely of places. Apparently, only those who believe can see the images clearly. Sightings of these religious simulacra (as they are called) are often the result of what scientists refer to as pareidolia: The imagined perception of a pattern or meaning where it does not actually exist. This phenomenon is attributed to the human mind's over-sensitivity to the perception of patterns, especially that of a human face or figure, where it would not normally be seen. I assume that when the image of someone’s aunt or third grade teacher, for example, materializes in, let’s say, a bowl of tapioca, it just gets eaten before any pictures are taken. Only the images of Jesus or his mom get such attention. And rightly so, I guess. I’d be afraid not to alert the media for fear of cosmic repercussions.

One time, the national news showed us the face of Jesus discovered on a moth. First, no one knows what Jesus looked like. So really, the image on that moth could have been that of the bearded white hippie dude who modeled for all the pictures we are so familiar with. When I saw the face on that moth, I thought it could just as easily be the face of the devil. (He has a goatee, right?) Just before the moth story, I remember seeing something about someone finding Jesus on a cross-shaped Cheeto (known in popular culture as “Cheesus”). Do these stories really make the news simply because of the alleged Jesus sightings, or is it more about pointing out the depths of gullibility hidden in so many pockets of future Darwin victims all across this fruited plain? I think it shows that the human race is full of doubt and a deep need for reassurance. I know that when I feel like God has abandoned me, nothing would be more comforting than to see the image of a bearded, long-haired man or a woman in a veil. Especially if I saw it in a food product (such as Cheez Whiz) or at the bottom of my sixth glass of wine.

Here are some places the images of Jesus and/or his mom have allegedly appeared: on a tortilla, a quesadilla (yes, another tortilla, but this one with cheese), a grilled cheese sandwich (the American quesadilla), toast (kind of like a grilled cheese but without the cheese), a pizza (I think he likes cheese), pita bread (I bet he felt more comfortable on something Mediterranean), pancakes, a potato, a potato chip, a pretzel, a french fry, (he apparently has no fear of carbs), a fish stick (I wonder how many he fed with that one fish stick?), a banana peel, an orange slice, peanut butter, shrimp, a glass of chocolate milk, the bottom of a coffee cup, a teabag, a Kit Kat bar, and a random piece of chocolate (no word on whether it was Dove brand). I think they like to show up in food maybe because of the whole communion idea. I’m sure the people who ate these images (if they did not freeze-dry and lacquer them and put them in a shadow box) felt extremely blessed and had no ill side-effects such as indigestion or diarrhea. If they did have diarrhea, it was just the evil spirits being cleansed from their bodies.

This crazy pair of Bible big shots has also deigned to appear in: driveway oil stains, a Walmart receipt, chipped paint, a scorch mark on an iron, a dog’s butt (Not kidding. Google it.), a bruise, water damage (was it holy water?), mold stains (I guess that’s what the water damage image morphed into), a toilet seat lid, moss, a dirty car window, a dirty sliding glass door, shower wall soap scum (would scrubbing bubbles be strong enough to defeat the power of Jesus-infused soap scum?), a garage floor, and an ashtray (Jesus hates it when you smoke!). It is not surprising that they would make appearances in such unsavory ways. How better to reach their target audience? Sinners are so unclean.

And they have shown up in rather neutral unexpected places as well, like: a frying pan (probably the one that cooked the above-mentioned quesadilla or grilled cheese sandwich), wood grain (Seems like he would steer clear of lumber after that whole cross experience, but nope. He’s fricking Jesus, bro.), a sonogram, an x-ray, an MRI, (Which would make me wonder: Is he healing me, or coming to get me?), a bottle cap, a telephone pole, chewing gum, a curtain, a velvet chair, a guitar, and a garage door. Do the appearances in these everyday items mean that he and his mom are just common, everyday kind of folks? I hope so, or I am so screwed. Surprisingly, there have not been a lot of sightings in nature. They have been spotted in: sand dunes, clouds, fire, a rock, a granite slab, tree bark, a tree stump, a turtle, and a cat’s fur. I guess he figures nature alone is signature enough, so showing up there is kind of redundant.

I think I saw Jesus in my dryer’s lint screen one time. I probably could have sold it on eBay, but I was afraid it would get damaged in shipping, and how do you insure something so priceless? So I hand-delivered it to a local Catholic church in exchange for a few dispensations. Even though I’m a Presbyterian. What if it really was Jesus trying to send me a message? Like maybe I need to engage my good/bad filter, or maybe I need to shed some unnecessary “fuzz” from my life. Or maybe he was just trying to tell me that I should clean that thing out more often. (Speaking of eBay, when I would get depressed, I used to look at the feedback people had left for me there. Here’s my favorite: “This eBay Superstar may be proof that the Second Coming has already happened!!!” That right there is some high praise.)

I am reluctant to make light of these so-called simulacra if in fact they really are God’s clever way of communicating with us. (What he is saying, I’m not sure, other than probably, “Hey, here I am, don’t forget me or I will smite you when you least expect it!”) We should welcome these subtle messages lest he decide to get louder. Given the choice between a talking burning bush and a face on a quesadilla, I’ll take the quesadilla.