Proper English for Elves

Finally the telecommunications industry has come up with a great new invention, caller announce. I am a big fan. I try to enjoy the evening hours relaxing with my husband, watching TV. A phone call, especially from a telemarketer, is a bothersome interruption. Instead of relaxing, I jump up and down answering the phone.

With caller announce, I can sit still and not move a muscle, pretending the phone is not ringing. A weird voice will eventually tell me whose calling. The only problem is that the voice doesn’t know how to speak English. Yesterday the phone rang, and I was told the call was from Ben T. Bone, and I almost didn’t answer. Who is Ben T-Bone? Finally, my curiosity got to me and when I did answer, it turned out to be my good friend, Betty Bond. Go figure!

The phone doesn’t know how to pronounce the language. To solve this problem, perhaps the manufacturers could buy Rosetta Stone to teach the phone proper pronunciation. Or perhaps the phone company could give a class on understanding the caller announce feature. This is a bad idea: we know they’ll charge umpteen dollars to take the class.

I believe the answer to this conundrum is in genetic engineering. We need to raise a few very small people, elves, to learn English and live inside our telephones to tell us who is calling. The phone would need to be a little bigger in order to have space for a tiny apartment. We’d probably need to have tiny plumbing installed too. The elves could go to a special school to learn proper pronunciation of the English language.

Just now, I received a call from Washington DC. The phone actually knows how to pronounce Washington, but, how can a city call you? Is there a big central telephone somewhere near the capital building that picks up phone numbers from the ether and mysteriously dials the number? Does that mean that some politician or political organization needs money or votes to continue messing up our lives? I didn’t answer.

I must confess, sitting down in the evening and not answering the phone gives me a feeling of power. I have the power to sit still and not talk to anyone, if that’s what I want. I am the Goddess of Silence, the Queen of Incommunicato, as I sit upon the Lounge of Lassitude. I’ll let the elves do it.

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What’s the most annoying idiomatic expression?

Continuing my rant on idiotisms, one of the most annoying idiotisms today is “where the rubber meets the road.” Tires aren’t simply made of rubber any more. To be a ‘smartism’ we would have to say:

“Where the styrene-butadiene co-polymer sheet, compounded with additives such as carbon black, silica and antioxidants in an extruded component impacts the layered concrete and asphalt lane for automobile traffic.”

I admit it, no one but the Michelin Man and his boss would say that. But, wait a minute, is one of additive to a tire antioxidants? Aren’t we supposed to be taking extra antioxidants with our vitamins? Why are we putting them in our tires? Does the Michelin Man need antioxidants to function properly?

Obviously we have gone ‘over the edge’, and we are being ambushed my another idiotism. Where does over the edge take us? Are we driving our new healthy tires over the edge of the layered concrete and asphalt lane for automobile traffic, or simply thinking so much that we are driven out of our minds?

In my case it’s the second answer. I went over the edge years ago and am now living permanently in that location. It’s between the styrene-butadiene co-polymer sheet and one card shy of a full deck!

Tell me, in your opinion, what’s the most irritating idiomatic expression?

Idiomatic Expressions

Whenever I hear a word that begins with the letter ‘idio’, I get suspicious. For instance, take the word ‘idiom‘. Daniel Webster defines that word as “an expression in the usage of a language that is peculiar to itself grammatically or in having a meaning that cannot be derived from the conjoined meaning of its elements.” What? Even the definition is impossible to understand.

Thankfully, most of us know from general usage it means a slang expression used and defined by the general public. If you read on in the dictionary, you’ll find the word ‘idiotism’ means the same as ‘idiom’. Thus, when I complain about idiomatic expressions I am complaining about ‘idiotisms‘. I like that word better, it makes me feel smart.

What’s your choice for the most annoying idiotism in the English language?

Here’s mine:

Your husband is driving you along the highway and he points out a car in front of you that’s anchored in the passing lane. He wants to pass, but he can’t.

“Women drivers” he says emphatically, moving over to the right lane to pass and honking the horn at the other car. Despite the fact that I’m happy we are getting around the car in front of us,  I take offense in behalf of all women, some of whom are good drivers.

I think if Mr. Webster had taken a few more minutes to listen to his wife Merriam, and allowed her to drive more often, some of these mind bloggleing idiotisms could have been avoided.

The Joy of the Lord

I went to the happiest church service I’ve ever been to yesterday. It was at the Rock. About halfway through the service, I noticed that several of the 800 people at the church service were laughing. I kept wondering what they were laughing about, but I couldn’t see anything funny happening. They were laughing loudly and I wondered if they were disrupting the service.

Then the pastor got up and began telling us that he had his sermon all planned on Saturday, but that night the Lord showed him that we were going to receive the spirit of joy. He could hardly get the words out because the spirit of joy had already fallen on us and everyone started laughing. Two or three women were “in stiches,” which is what I call it when a person is laughing so hard they lose complete control of themselves.

Through the rest of the service the congregation laughed for joy. In Nehemiah 8:10, the scripture says “the joy of the Lord is my strength,” and “a merry heart doeth good like a medicine,” is from Proverbs 17:22. Our pastor was laughing with us, but he did manage to share these scriptures and others, encouraging us to “loosen up and feel good.” It was a great start to my week!

Certifiable

The word ‘certifiable’ is defined by Webster as “to attest officially to the insanity of” someone. It is used to refer to someone who is definitely crazy, not just a little impaired.

I wonder how crazy I am. Am I certifiable? If I’m certifiable now, how will anyone know when I actually become certified? What will I be after I’m certified (besides crazy)?

There must be a big office building somewhere (probably in Washington DC, where they need it most) that has a big stamp, and if you get sent there, they stamp “certified” on your forehead. Of course they use indelible ink so the stamp never comes off and everyone you meet after that knows you are a nutcase. The question is, why haven’t we seen anyone wearing this stamp? Surely everyone now and then comes upon someone who is certifiable and has been certified.

Obviously the men in white coats must be the ones who decide who is certifiable and who is not. Who gives the test? Can we study for the test, if we don’t want to be certified? Since Sigmund Freud and Carl Jung are dead, look out for Dr. Phil. He may secretly have the stamp hidden in his desk drawer and if he thinks you need it, Bam, you’re certified!

However, if this were true, some of the people on his show would surely have this stamp on their forehead. Why haven’t we seen it? Health professionals and accountants get certified, but are they ‘certifiable’ before that? Which comes first, being certifiable or being certified? There is a lot of confusion on this topic. Kind of makes you crazy doesn’t it?’

Napapnea

Usually I am the happy smiling wife, waiting for my husband to come home in the evening.  Besides being a writer and going out several days a week to line dancing class, I am the quintessential tidy housekeeper. I have always been compulsive about keeping the house clean and spotless.

Lately, however, I’ve been slipping, falling short in my efforts to dislodge June Cleaver from her throne as the perfect wife and mother.

Today, when my husband came home from work, I didn’t greet him at the door with a smile in my cleaned and starched apron (which I take off immediately so I don’t get it dirty). He came in and the lights were out and I was no where to be found. However, he found a clean pie pan sitting on the counter with a towel in it, as though it was half dried. I’m so embarrassed. He finally found me, in the study, in my lounge chair taking a nap. I was wearing what he calls my bat-girl mask (which is just an ordinary sleep mask),  and my mouth was hanging open. I’m so embarrassed.

I think I have a bad case of napapnea. It has caused me to fail once again to be the perfect wife. What will become of me? Will I lose my thirty-third bid for housewife of the year? Will I ever dust again? Do we have enough TP? These little details keep me staggering along the path of obsessive-compulsive disorder. And they make me tired.

The Lighter Side of Being a Multiple

It’s Monday and that means getting serious about my work. I am presently writing a memoir about the discovery of my other personalities. It’s called “Multiple: A Journey through Insanity.” It’s the story of my sexual abuse as a child and how it injured my mind. The book is very serious and it gets me down when I spend all my time writing about my abuse and it’s consequences.

That’s why I’m writing this blog – for comic relief. It helps to laugh at myself and my circumstances, especially ones that I can not or don’t want to change.

I’m writing about the lighter side of being a multiple. Actually in my case there would be more than thirteen sides: the dark side, the lighter side, the serious side, the brighter side, the comic side, the icky side, the romantic side, the sexy side, the gross side, the pretty side, the ugly side, the up side, the down side, and last but not least, the calm side. Just kidding. There is no calm side!

Do you have some of these sides to your personality?

My Eyeballs

After spending the last 400,724 hours setting up my blog and beginning to write my post, my eyeballs hurt. I usually dip them in coffee, but today I just drank my usual single solitary cup. It seems to taste different when I use it first as an eyeball refresher.

Does your consciousness seem like a kaleidoscope? Do your eyes become overwhelmed by the many colors and continual movement of the landscape, or of a room with people in it? I imagine there are people with more peaceful vision than I have.  I am looking at things with more than one pair of eyes, since my personalities may be competing for the use of MY EYEBALLS.

Oh, pardon me, I forgot to mention that I am addicted to the video game Zuma. It’s an eyeball workout if there ever was one, but I’m sure playing for hours has nothing to do with  my eyestrain.

Other Multiples

If you know someone with multiple personalities, please tell them about my blog. I would like to connect with them