Another reason why majoring in English was probably a bad idea

In college, my fellow English majors and I used to joke about how we were paying thousands of tuition dollars on an education that was just going to land us a home in a cardboard box. (Odd that our collective creativity couldn't come up with a better joke than the cardboard box cliche, but I digress.)

After graduation, I eventually managed to find a job that allows me to live in a normal-sized apartment with actual sturdy walls and a roof. But I can't thank my diploma, as I very rarely invoke my English major skeeeelz in the workplace. I mean, I have to make sure that all the words are spelled right on my company's website and all of our advertising materials, but they aren't exactly five-dollar words, and as a former fifth-grade spelling bee champion, I think I could have completed this task even before I entered the hallowed halls of my alma mater.

So, not only does my degree serve no practical purpose in my professional life. But also, it has given me sufficient knowledge of the English language's grammar rules to become significantly irritated when I hear others abusing them.

Today's example: Jesse McCartney's song "Leavin." I hear this song played on the radio approximately 548 times a day, and although the teenybopper inside me* secretly kinda likes it, the song also drives me completely crazy. And not just because hearing a kid that looks like this say the word "shorty" makes me cringe like I did when David Archuleta tried to make the lyric "my boo" sound natural when performing Chris Brown's "With You." Stick to what you know, kids.

No, the real reason I want to punch Jesse McCartney's songwriter is for the crime of randomly interchanging pronouns. The whole song is directed at some girl, one who's apparently the baddest little thing that he's ever seen. Almost every line says "you": "I've been watching you all day/Man, that thing you got behind you is amazing." Except for this ONE TIME when he switches to "I" for the first line of each chorus:

Why don't you tell him that I'm leavin, never looking back again

I just don't understand! Wouldn't this chick's "shorty" be happy if, in fact, Jesse leaves, never looks back again, and therefore stops hitting on his girlfriend? How is that a threat to the guy to treat her better? So I assume he is giving her a specific script for how to tell her shorty that she's the one who is leaving. But if that's the case, then why does he switch BACK to "you" in the very next line?

You found somebody who does it better than he can

You see my dilemma. Thanks a lot, B.A. in English. My teenybopper self just wants to relax and enjoy this crappy song, but she can't focus when her grownup counterpart is tearing out her hair in frustration every time it comes on the airwaves.


*This is the part of me that still uses LipSmackers instead of grownup chapstick because hello, it tastes better. Even if it makes the Target pharmacist laugh at me when she rings it up. That's a different blog.

What the hell, China?

Since it only occurs once every four years, lately I've taken to watching the Michael Phelps show Olympics. Due to a 12-hour time difference and the fact that I'm 75 years old, most of the events occur after my bedtime, so I must resort to checking CNN.com the next day to read recaps of my favorite events. For every article about an event, though, there's another one about how China has been faking it more than Meg Ryan in When Harry Met Sally.

Now that the Chinese female gymnasts have beaten out the U.S. team for the gold, there has been increased grumbling that some of those tiny girls can't be older than 14, even though their passports (issued by the Chinese government) insist they are at least 16, the minimum age to compete in the Michael Phelps show Olympics.

Looking at photos of the Chinese team, I have to agree with protesters, and to that I say, what the hell, China? Athletes here in America might occasionally dabble in the performance-enhancing drugs, but they'd never stoop to something so low as lying about their age just to gain an advantage in a sporting competition.


Apparently China's not only interested in winning as many gold medals as possible, though. They're also out to show everyone that they can throw the best darn-tootin' Michael Phelps show Olympics the world has ever seen - even if they have to fake their way through that, too. Yesterday this story broke, revealing that the cute little girl who sang "Ode to the Motherland" during the opening ceremonies was actually lip-synching the performance. The girl who actually provided the vocals was deemed not good-looking enough to perform the song, thereby setting a new world record in earliest onset of low self-esteem.

What the hell, China? Maybe some musicians in America occasionally lip-synch their performances (everyone say hi to Ashlee Simpson!), but at least they provide their own vocals on the recordings. We'd never do something like, say, give a recording contract to someone who lip-synchs to the vocals of those who "lack a marketable image."


China is so desperate for perfection that even some of the fireworks during the opening ceremonies were faked. Worried about "poor visibility," the Beijing organizing committee opted to use some previously recorded footage of computerized fireworks.

Seriously, what the hell, China? Are you really so superficial that you feel the need to enhance something that, in its natural state, already inspires awe and reverance from probably about half of the world's population? Unheard of.


You should be ashamed of yourselves.

TMI? Too Much Information. It's just easier to say "TMI." I used to say "don't go there," but that's lame.

I'm in line for the security checkpoint at Pittsburgh International Airport. There is a woman in front of me with two early-elementary-school-age children...old enough to not wear diapers and to carry their own bags, but young enough that they still need specific instructions. The woman looks more than slightly frazzled. "Put your bag up here, honey. We don't need that bin, please put it back over there. Take your shoes off and put them with Mommy's. No, don't take your socks off, just your shoes. Leave your socks on!!"

With this last line, she looks back at me and smiles apologetically. I smile back, because I assume she feels guilty for holding up the line, but I'm not in any great hurry and I want to reassure her that I'm not getting impatient. I also nod knowingly, as if to say, "Kids can be this way sometimes!" Of course, I have no children, only cats, but they would certainly be terrors if I ever took them to the airport.

Don't assume things, Sarah. She wants to apologize for something other than their lack of speed:

"He's got toe fungus, you know."

I'm not sure what my face looked like after that, but it couldn't have been pretty. Was that necessary? Keeping your socks on is standard protocol for airport security screenings, so did I really need an explanation for why you were so adamant that your son's socks remained on his crusty little toes? I think not. Shudder.

One more reason I love going to the airport.

Kill you? I don't wanna kill you...you complete me.

OK, David Farnham might have been slightly justified in leaving his two-year-old locked in his car while he went to a midnight showing of The Dark Knight. That movie is FANTASTIC.

David probably had a babysitter all lined up, just as any responsible parent would do, but maybe she canceled at the last minute, and what was David supposed to do then? He already had his ticket, so that would have been $10 down the drain (and since now he'll have to save up to post bond and pay his lawyer, he can't justify that kind of irresponsible spending). Plus, Batman is always there to support the good people of Gotham, so for David to turn around and not support Batman in his big blockbuster endeavor...well, that's just plain inconsiderate. So it was either leave the kid in the car or bring the kid to the movie and be that person I hate who has a crying kid at the movie theater. I think the judge and jury at David's child abuse trial should have to watch the movie first before they decide whether or not to convict him. I'm just saying. He could plead not guilty by reason of irresistible AWESOMENESS and they would probably have to let him off.

In conclusion, you should drop what you're doing right this second and go see The Dark Knight. Just maybe make triple sure that your babysitter is available. A lot of stuff happens in the last ten minutes, and you don't want to miss it on account of being arrested.

More people who should not be parents

To be fair, I haven't seen this movie yet. I'm going tonight, though, so tomorrow I'll let you know whether it's worth risking the suffocation of your child.

Introducing Things I Love / Things I Hate

My blog is very unfocused, hence the title Word Vomit. I like it that way, because I get bored of doing the same things all the time, so I'm sure to get bored of writing about the same things all the time too. But sometimes I find that having TOO many choices of things to write about is overwhelming, so I end up writing nothing at all. (Also, that's really just an excuse for not updating more frequently. As you should know by now, I'm a bit lazy.)

I figure a happy medium is coming up with a few "theme" type entries that I can default to when I can't decide what else to write about. For example, so far "things I read on cnn.com" seems to have yielded a lot of subject matter. I also like to make lists, but that entry about the five products that have changed my life took something like three hours to write. From now on, lists will comprise only two items: something I love and something I hate. I'm an equal-opportunity product pusher/slammer. Today's Thing I Love and Thing I Hate were both brought into my life by Tron. So I guess that means I have to love him and hate him too.

Today I love dark-chocolate-dipped Altoids. First of all, because dark chocolate is the best of all the chocolates (that's what she said). But also because technically it's a breath-freshening device first and a candy second. So if I eat a whole tin in one day, maybe I'm not being a greedy little chocolate lover. Maybe I am just trying to cure a really bad case of halitosis, so get off my back already! These Altoids come in Cinnamon and Peppermint flavors, which are both delicious, and also Ginger, which I'm terrified to try.

Today I hate Brett Favre. Not nearly as much as I hate all the Browns, all the Bengals, and Terrell Owens, but I still hate him. Brett, please listen to me. I don't WANT to hate you. But you need to stop fake retiring. I want to remember you as a great legend who set a bunch of quarterback records, and who also seems down to earth enough that I want to be your friend. However, I have a short attention span. If you keep this up, all my good memories will fade and I'm only going to remember you as that indecisive drama queen who came back for one more season and failed to take some team that's not the Packers to the playoffs.

Tune in next time...I love and hate a lot of things, and since I'm always right, you need to follow along to know what you should also be loving and hating.

Who is dumber - kids or adults?

It's an age-old question. Kids will say adults are dumber, and adults will say kids are dumber. I maintain that it just doesn't matter because I'm smarter than everyone anyway. I have never in my life done anything stupid. Well, at least nothing that was caught on tape and posted to the internet, thus you can't prove anything.

So, what's dumber? Climbing into a toy vending machine (motive: unclear - either reallllly wanting a new stuffed animal or hoping to be "won" by some new parents) or tackling and beating the crap out of your neighbor when her pit bull bites your toddler (motive: proving that you know best what's most harmful to your child, and of course that does not include smoking around him, using excessive profanity, and showing him that violence is the solution to all of life's problems)?





***UPDATE: Apparently CNN does not like when YouTube posts their videos, so click here to watch that second clip.