On the road again...

Tomorrow, I depart for Brooklyn after work. I look forward to a solid four days of forgetting that I don't live there anymore.

To the left, you'll note my new EZ-Pass, purchased after frustrating toll lines during my last trip (also, I decided it was time to enter the 21st century, though I have had fun paying for a 35-cent toll entirely in pennies).

Ginger has been freed of detritus. I am in possession of a New Year's Eve frock and my contributions to Beer Christmas. Now, if I could just motivate myself to pack.

Look out, bitches... here I come!

Stinky Whizzleteeth also likes good grammar.

As promised, here is my post about The Thing That Made Me Happy to the Point of Joyful Tears.

My, ahem, charming compulsiveness has reared its pretty head. You all know by now that I like my English written all proper-like, with each apostrophe placed with pride and certainty.

I, like other folks on this Internet Machine, feel inclined to point out violations against our mother tongue (though they tend to be quicker with the acerbic wit, and less reliant on the ranting and raving).

Behold, a common violation to my peace of mind:


I took this photo at a local supermarket this evening while my sister look on, puzzled.

Whomever began the trend of making the word "items" a general, uncountable noun is, in a word, a jerkface.

This sign blazing above me (as I purchase fewer than ten items at the local grocery store) is troubling.... enough to make me wince as I accept my change. The fact that this widely-accepted, easily-corrected error is also the title of some crappy movie (I assume it's crappy because they failed to employ a person with half a brain who could steer the enterprise through those shark-infested waters of usage vs. convention) swings the needle over into apoplexy.

So, in that store, I try to keep my purchases large and my eyes averted.

Just down the road a piece, though, there is a fine supermarket establishment whose prices are a little high, whose chili peppers are incorrectly sorted (an Anaheim and a Serrano should not be in the same basket... HELLO?), and whose checkout lines are stocked with Rachael Ray magazines. They have all of the elements I wish to avoid in my food shopping experience.

However, while collecting ingredients for holiday cookies the other day, I caught sight of what may well win this place my business for life:


Hosannas from the highest! Isn't it beautiful? Yeah, I think I need to do a little dance....







So, you see, I reward the worthy even as I chastise the feebly literate. Someone at that coporate headquarters pulled their heads out of each others patoots long enough to listen to the shrill cries of losers like me. And for that I thank them from the bottom of my cold cold heart. I wished I could have danced with the pimply-faced bagger in the bakery aisle without being hauled away given antipsychotics. Because 10 Items or Fewer? It's a beautiful thing.*


*ha ha**


**Yeah, I don't get out much.

Wha Happened?

Yes, changes are afoot. I've gotten into this "re-do your blog in Beta" craze.

I'm trying the new title on for size... a cheeky reference to my delusions of culinary grandeur, you see.

Anyway, bear with me as I find the time to futz with the template (those titles to the right are terrifyingly large... I'm gonna work on that, I swear) and post things that might amuse or titillate (Oh, who am I kidding... things that amuse and titillate me and maybe also Claire, but mostly in that indulgent way).

I haven't dropped off the earth, it's just a little crazy 'round these parts.

There's a couple of things I simply must post about soon, namely "How to Pick Up Your Bartender"(an offshoot of earlier instructional posts) and also "The Thing That Made Me Happy to the Point of Joyful Tears."

Who's excited? Just me? Well, stay tuned.