Dunkin Donuts and ALOT of Absolute Panic

So, you ever hit that fevered level of stress, that pitch so intense and you're afraid your heart's just going to explode in your chest?

Yeah, me, too.  The past couple of days.

You see, our lease is up in three months.  No, we cannot afford to move.  We have neither the cash nor the credit rating to find a new place.  So I emailed the Landlord, letting him know that we're hoping to stay on, that we're very happy here, that we've been happy with him as a landlord and hope we've been good tenants.

And he still hasn't answered.

You can imagine how absolutely panicked I am at this point.  It's been two days with no response.  We have put a lot into this place--when we moved in, the last tenants left it stinking of dog piss, with the grass gone, the lawns nothing but weeds, cigarette butts, and garbage.  Food still stuck to the walls and floor in the kitchen.  We have worked SO hard to get the lawns nice, put in flowers, and just generally keep things looking/smelling pleasant.  I don't know what we're going to do if the Landlord doesn't renew.

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A quick grammar aside?  Above, where I wrote "We have put a lot into this place . . . ?"  The Google auto-correct is telling me that's supposed to be "ALOT."

Holy cow.  That's not a WORD!

Here--an oldie but goodie on the subject:

NOT my artwork, but rather a live link to the brilliant "Hyperbole and a Half" blog!

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I found a video today while perusing various news sites.  A video of a painfully stupid woman.  Normally, I'm not happy about videos that hold people up to public ridicule, but this one's different.  You see, this stupid woman shot the video herself.  She shot the video herself, then posted it online to show us all how stupid she is.  

And that's something different.

Have a look and listen HERE.

And HERE:

I remember this sort of dull-witted, desperate-to-impress type back in junior high and high school.  They were the ones who started fights over how people "looked" at them.  They were the kind who would storm over in the cafeteria and demand to know what a previously laughing kid thought was so funny.  Stupid, mean bullies who've somehow gone through life surrounded by people too stupid or too scared to tell them what morons they really are.

A friend suggested that perhaps this was a marketing ruse, maybe to drum up business for her advertising, or maybe to bring folks into Dunkin Donuts.  I don't think so--if that's the case, the folks who dreamed it up are looking at the bloody end of their careers.  The moment she crossed into racist language and 9/11 references, any marketing potential was lost.  No, I'm a big fan of parsimony--the simplest answer is probably the correct one.  In this case?

She's stupid.

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Now, for the last few months, I've been increasingly panicked about the end-of-year tests for our boy.  As you probably know, we homeschool, and Utah had no end-of-year testing.  I used to print out the sample tests from New York, Tennessee, and other states just to get a handle on where he was, but nothing formal.  Here?

Here we have to test him, and then we have to submit the results to the local school district.  So you can imagine just how nervous I get.

As always, I've been particularly concerned about the math/algebra.  That's because our boy's parents are mathematical idjits.  I mean, we can add, subtract, multiply, divide, and even do that thar fancy stuff like multiplying decimals and dividing fractions.  But algebra.

Urk.

See, I was a problem child.  I had a problem life with problem parents and, by 8th grade, was myself a problem.  As a result, I was held back a grade. When my class went up to high school, I was still stuck in junior high, and I was very sad about that.  I approached my Vice Principal, Mr. Hawkes, and asked what I could do about being with my grade.  He told me to get all "A" grades and he'd make it happen.  

I did, and so did he.

The trouble?  That threw me from first semester math to second semester algebra.  And you know what happens when you miss all that important BASIC stuff they teach in the first semester?

You fail.  

It wasn't until last year I knew about ORDER OF OPERATIONS.  Yeah, that's an important one.  

So, while I KNOW that kids are capable of learning beyond their teachers, I've always been afraid. And when I printed out the New York and Tennessee end-of-year tests this year?

I was terrified.

Oh, there was SO much on there we haven't covered yet!  Nonlinear equations?  Graphing quadratic equations?  What have I been doing?  Where has my mind been?  My poor boy!  Hurry, hurry, cram that in!  Faster, find videos, find books, find worksheets!

Breathe.  

The end of year test came in the mail a few days ago.  The toughest "algebra" question on it?  Goes something like this:  if 3m + 5 = 20, solve for m.  

Oh, gosh.  Okay, I guess I can relax, because our boy is WICKEDLY over-prepared for this test.  No, that doesn't mean I'm going to give him a break or let him backslide until his skill level matches the test.  That would be incredibly stupid.

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So, I found myself looking through the old town's mugshots the other day--something I do to keep tabs on in-laws and old classmates.  As I cruised through, I kept an eye out for stupid names.  Yeah, stupid, sorry, no reason to sugar-coat it.  I was reading a study not too long about about disciplinary problems and incarceration rates for kids with stupid names vs kids with normal names.  It was interesting, the results found a pretty clear relationship between idiotic names and behavioral issues, and that crossed racial and social boundaries.  In a nutshell, give your kid a stupid, hard-to-pronounce, idiotically spelled name?  Increase the chance that there will be run-ins with teachers, administrators, and the police.  Remember that before you go to saddle that baby with a name like RYKLAN, ANTJUAN, PEYTIN, CELICA (!), MEYSCHELLE, TYETIN, KOHLSIN, or (a personal anti-favorite) ACQYUILLIEZ.

Anyway, something I noticed as I was perusing--there don't appear to be any cutesy, stupid, misspelled, or otherwise altered-for-parental-amusement foreign names.  A lot of Hispanic names, but no "Hoe-zay," no "Furnandoh," no "Hoo-lee-oh" or "Rikkarrdo."  Same with the names of Arab or African arrestees--nothing intentionally misspelled to be "cute" or "unique."  Just the names.  

Is it just an American/English-speaking thing?  Because I've noticed that once you get down a generation (to the second born here), naming conventions fly out the window and the YOOONEEK rears its ugly head.  Is it like the American diet?  Insidious, creeping inexorably into the immigrant culture to wreak havoc?

I dunno.  But it's interesting to ponder.

****UPDATE*****

A new contender for personal anti-favorite stupid name?  EINSTEIN GAMMA!  I won't list the last name because, with those two up front, who NEEDS a last name?

Really does argue for "gave me a stupid name" as a defense in matricide/patricide cases.

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One last thing before I post something ugly?  Sometimes, I like to look at the search terms people have used to find my blog.  The other day?  Someone found my blog by searching for the term "Dick Van Patten Porno."

If that was you, smack yourself.  Hard.

And now, something ugly:

I am defiantly going to write about that one . . .

Down, grammar snobs, DOWN!  No, I didn't just totally screw the grammar pooch in my subject line.  It was purely intentional, a reference to a conversation hubby and I had last night about the word "definitely" and how many people seem unable to spell it correctly. 

I am a bit of a grammar snob, myself--not hawkish about it, I don't police people's posts or Tweets (we all make mistakes, and it's not my job to run around putting out grammatical fires), but I notice.  I notice, and sometimes it drives me just a little batty.  Other times?

It amuses the hell out of me.

My favorite grammatisaster (I just made that up--speak of the devil)?  Definitely "defiantly."  It used to piss me off, but now I love it!  See, it makes every misstatement that much more emphatic and courageous.  I'm not just going to bed, I'm DEFIANTLY going to bed!  "Screw all y'all, I'm going to bed NOW!"  I don't merely think that the new Celica is a nice car for the dollar, I DEFIANTLY think that, so come on, just TRY to stand between me and my automotive opinion!  I double-dog DARE you! 

Another fave?  "Your" vs "You're."  Oh, I LOVE a good possessive in place of the contraction!  Why?  Because the difference between "YOU ARE screwed up" and the screwed up you possess is delicious!  "Your rude!"  What?  MY rude?  I have a rude?  Did someone give me a rude and I didn't know?  Was it you?  Awwww, thank you!  I've always wanted a rude!

One that drove me nutty for years is now a source of joy, thanks to a blog I stumbled upon.  "Alot."  Used to make me scream, but now?  Now I smile and imagine all those happy Alots who have loving homes because of the grammatically challenged. 

Why is this all such a big deal to me?  Well, it's actually not a huge deal.  I don't lose sleep over it (hell, I don't even LOOSE sleep over it!), but I guess . . . words MEAN something.  They do, every last one of them has a definition, a meaning.  When we use the wrong word (or mangle the right one), we fail to communicate in a meaningful way.  Sure, our audience can probably chew through the dreck and figure out what we meant, but why make them work like that?  Why not just use the right words, learn the correct spellings and communicate our meaning clearly instead of making our audience jump through hoops?

Having lived in Utah for decades, I have experienced a special bunch of speech and grammar disasters that folks in other parts of the world may not have enjoyed. 

Let's start with the long vowel sounds, which seem especially problematic when the word ends in an "l" sound.  You know, like "sale," "feel," "real," "deal," and "meal."  Most English speakers, when considering a trip to the local fast food joint, might say something like, "Hey, I feel hungry and McDonald's is having a sale--I think I'm gonna grab myself a real meal deal!"  Hey, they might!  But not in Utah!  In Utah, they'd say, "Hey, I fill hungry and McDonald's is having a sell--I think I'm gonna grab myself a rill mill dill!" 

I know, you think I'm exaggerating.  I'm not.  It's so bad that many Utahns spell how they pronounce.  So you see Craigslist ads boasting cars for "sell."  You see heartfelt Facebook posts proclaiming "I fill so sad, I felled my test!"  Coworkers actually have to approach their originally-from-out-of-state peers and ask, "Is it a sell boat?  A sale boat?  How do you spell that?"

A particular point of frustration/amusement?  The abandonment of the interior "t" in pretty much all words.  You know, like "mountain" becomes "mou-un," "Layton" becomes "Lay-un," and "carton" becomes "car-un."  This inspired epic comedy when the "ay-un" names became so wildly popular--you know, "Pay-un," "Day-un," "Say-un" (okay, I'm joking on that last one--not too many Satans running around Utah).  This phenomenon was beautifully illustrated by a friend who wrote the following Limerick a few years back:

There was once a young lady named Pay'un

Who lived in the city of Lay'un

Her interior "t"s

Were lost in the breeze

Or, possibly, stolen by Say'un  

While there are many other grammatical (and accent-related) language disasters that make me a bit crazy (there/their/they're and it's/its leap to mind), and many arguments against folks like me ("you knew what I meant!" and "how well I write doesn't have anything to do with how smart I am!" come to mind), the one grammar-related thing that makes me nearly wild with anger?  Calling people who value the proper use of the language "Grammar Nazis."   

Holy cow, really?  "Nazis?"  Guess what, kids?  Still too soon.  Using "Nazi" to describe a non-violent, verbal reaction to crappy grammar is like using "rape" to describe a jacked-up price at the car stereo joint.  Which brings us back to the point--words MEAN something.  Calling someone a "Nazi" for any reason other than murderous, genocidal, dastardly deeds is stupid and careless.  Whether it be grammar snobs or breastfeeding moms, the word "Nazi" doesn't apply.  Don't do that.   

And now that I'm done ranting, I have no doubt that this blog entry is riddled with typos and errors.  It must be, because that's the nature of the beast.  Complain about lousy spelling or crappy grammar, and you're guaranteed to make the kind of mistake that makes little trolls cry with joy.  That's okay.  I don't use a spell-checking program and I only vaguely proof-read when I'm operating on less than four hours of sleep.  Like I said, while this is all a pet peeve of mine, I don't cruise message forums or Facebook walls and correct people's grammar.  Except inside my head, and there's nothing to be done about that.  

Have a super day!  And, hey, if you injoyed this, just you wait intel you see my next one!  Yore gonna think it's a rill big dill!    Or maybe not.  Either way, I hope you enjoyed reading this.  I enjoyed writing it.  

Oh, hey, totally unrelated--is diet Vernors ginger soda supposed to smell like vomit?  I'm being serious-it's my first can (12 pack, actually), and it smelled like pure puke.  I thought it might be me, since I had an upset stomach, but hubby sniffed and said, "Yep, wow--vomit."  I dumped it down my sink (which now smells like someone hurled), and I'm unsure--have I got a bum 12 pack, or does it always smell like this?  The flavor (I took one sip) was just sweet--not gingery, not at all what I was expecting.  Just a sort of "aspartame water" thing going on.  Is it always like that?  Should I take it back to Wegmans?