Growing up, I constantly corrected the grammatical mistakes of my friends. I was even given the nickname The Master Grammarian. It wasn't a compliment. :) Luckily, I've learned to let things go as I've matured.
Perhaps not.
Yesterday, I was talking to a friend who shall remain nameless. We were discussing her current relationship because I'm such an expert. (Yes, that was sarcasm.) She mentioned that the behavior of her significant other had improved greatly after a long talk, although he still had a "stupid moment" or two. However, she said stupid moments are part of being a man so she was going to give him some "leadway."
I paused, thinking, and decided to point out her mistake, "Don't you mean leeway?"
She laughed and said, "You couldn't just let it go, could you?"
I said, "I would have, but you just insulted my gender and called us stupid."
Sweet, delicious irony. :)
Friday, August 22, 2008
Tuesday, August 05, 2008
It's another name for a cat
NOTE: Names have been changed to protect the innocent. But I'm still Don because I'm not that innocent.
This past Sunday I was at my girlfriend's house doing some computer work and lounging around. Mostly lounging around. She had let her dog outside to go do dog things, but she later realized that the dog had gotten out. I'm no detective, but more than likely she got out through the open gate.
I jumped in my car to drive around the neighborhood and look for the dog. Riding with me was my girlfriend's almost 6 year old daughter (we'll call her Felicia) and the 8 year old daughter of the next door neighbor (we'll call her Amanda). I gave them each the job of sitting in the back seat and looking out their respective window so that they could help.
Felicia was concerned for the dog and in her nervousness proceeded to talk non-stop, saying things like, "Oh, there's an open gate. Maybe she's in that backyard. I think that mean lady across the street called the pound. I hope she's not at the pound, they'll be mean to her. What if she went in someone's garage and they kept her? Maybe we should ask those people if they saw a dog? What if she's cold and scared?"
For that last comment I replied, "It's 106 degrees outside, she's not cold."
Felicia continued, "What if she's at the lake and she gets in the water and can't swim?"
Amanda replied, "Oh, all dogs can swim. Well, unless she's a p*ssy."
Yes, she said the p-word. At this point I nearly ran off the road. I wasn't sure what to do since she wasn't my kid. Plus, I didn't want to overreact because I was thinking that if I let her know she said a bad word she'd just want to say it more. And I wondered if she really knew how bad that word was.
Felicia wondered something as well. She asked Amanda, "What's that mean?"
Amanda replied, "Oh, it's another name for a cat. And cats can't swim."
That worked for me.
This past Sunday I was at my girlfriend's house doing some computer work and lounging around. Mostly lounging around. She had let her dog outside to go do dog things, but she later realized that the dog had gotten out. I'm no detective, but more than likely she got out through the open gate.
I jumped in my car to drive around the neighborhood and look for the dog. Riding with me was my girlfriend's almost 6 year old daughter (we'll call her Felicia) and the 8 year old daughter of the next door neighbor (we'll call her Amanda). I gave them each the job of sitting in the back seat and looking out their respective window so that they could help.
Felicia was concerned for the dog and in her nervousness proceeded to talk non-stop, saying things like, "Oh, there's an open gate. Maybe she's in that backyard. I think that mean lady across the street called the pound. I hope she's not at the pound, they'll be mean to her. What if she went in someone's garage and they kept her? Maybe we should ask those people if they saw a dog? What if she's cold and scared?"
For that last comment I replied, "It's 106 degrees outside, she's not cold."
Felicia continued, "What if she's at the lake and she gets in the water and can't swim?"
Amanda replied, "Oh, all dogs can swim. Well, unless she's a p*ssy."
Yes, she said the p-word. At this point I nearly ran off the road. I wasn't sure what to do since she wasn't my kid. Plus, I didn't want to overreact because I was thinking that if I let her know she said a bad word she'd just want to say it more. And I wondered if she really knew how bad that word was.
Felicia wondered something as well. She asked Amanda, "What's that mean?"
Amanda replied, "Oh, it's another name for a cat. And cats can't swim."
That worked for me.
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