Save the Sundae

“How can a kid look this cute while throwing a tantrum?” 

That was the caption under a photo of Suri Cruise on the ABC News website. Apparently, Suri threw a temper tantrum at FAO Schwarz, a toy store in New York City.

It’s obviously troubling that we are such a celebrity-obsessed society that a 5-year-old’s tantrum makes the news, but what I find even more disconcerting is this comment left by one of the readers: 

Cute? LOL! She looks like exactly what she is: a spoiled brat that owns and rules the whole family. She’ll be a terror as a teen and all the Christian Science intervention won’t make up for the fact that the ‘parents’ allowed this little brat to run her own life. BTW she always DID look ridiculous in those fruitcake high heels…

I am worried about this because if a cute little 5-year-old can’t escape brutal criticism then I am totally screwed.

The fact of the matter is that some people are not going to like my book. They might even write negative reviews about it. I hope I can cope with the criticism and it won’t drive me to drink excessively. (Well, excessivelyer.)

To prepare myself emotionally, I’ve been reading negative reviews about other grammar books. Here’s one about Mignon Fogarty’s popular grammar guide Grammar Girl: Quick and Dirty Tips for Better Writing: 

I saw all the great reviews on this book and thought this book must be top-notch. Unfortunately, it's just meh. Mignon (who happens to have one of the worst author names I've ever heard) certainly knows her subject. That being said, she's not much of a teacher. 

Oh my god! Should I change my name? Is Jenny too meh?

I read this quote from Kurt Vonnegut that made me feel a little better: 

“Any reviewer who expresses rage and loathing for a novel is preposterous. He or she is like a person who has put on full armor and attacked a hot fudge sundae.”

(To be fair, I have attacked a hot fudge sundae, but it was an attack of passion.)

But then I read this other quote by Kurt Vonnegut, and it made me doubt his wisdom: 

“Here is a lesson in creative writing. First rule: Do not use semicolons. They are transvestite hermaphrodites representing absolutely nothing. All they do is show you've been to college.”      

Vonnegut is totally off base here. College grads rarely know when to use semicolons.

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                              

Hell Hath No Fury

I wear a size 7 ½ shoe. Now, let’s say that Johnny Depp announced that he was searching for a bride and vowed to marry the woman whose foot perfectly fit into a size 6 glass slipper (designed by Tim Burton, of course). Would I simply curse my genetic makeup and get on with my life?

Hell no! I’d scrape some bone off the first metatarsal. I’d definitely ditch the distal phalanx of the second toe.  I’d get rid of the pinky toe completely and file down my heel. Then I would paint my remaining toenails black because in 1985 I read in Teen Beat that black was Johnny’s favorite color. 

Manipulating one’s foot to make it a perfect fit for Johnny Depp is a metaphor for what it’s like to go through the query process. Many of you are writers and therefore fully understand the hellishness of querying. For those of you who aren’t familiar with the process, allow me to quickly explain. 

In order to get an agent to represent your book, you must query. First, you must research to find which agents represent the kind of work you do; then you must take hundreds of pages of work and painstakingly whittle them down into a few measly paragraphs that must convince the agent that your work is amazing and a perfect fit for him or her. 

Then, you sit back as rejection after rejection after rejection after rejection roll in. 

One agency that rejected me was the one who represented the diet book Skinny Bitch. I thought we would be a perfect fit because Skinny Bitch, like my book, incorporates a sassy, humorous approach to relatively dry material. And, frankly, I was surprised that they rejected me because people in the United States are much more concerned about their grammatical correctness than their weight, right?

On the one hand, I am glad they rejected me because my agent is rad. On the other hand, hell hath no fury like a woman scorned. 

So here’s the thing: yesterday, I read that Skinny Bitch is being turned into a movie. 

Here’s the premise as described in Publishers Weekly:

“A vegan chef loses her job and her boyfriend in quick succession, then finds a new beginning after launching a vegan cooking school and falling for a meat-eating man.”

Now, I feel like I simply must turn my Missed Periods and Other Grammar Scares book into a movie. A better movie! A movie that will make that agency regret the day that they tossed my query letter into the recycle bin.

Any ideas for a premise? This is all I’ve come up with so far:

An English teacher loses her job and her boyfriend in quick succession, then she opens up a grammar school and falls for The Situation.

Penis Party

I feel so betrayed. I thought you were visiting my blog because of your passion for punctuation, spelling and sentence structure. I thought you came here to quench your thirst for comma knowledge. I believed that your hunger for differentiating between commonly confused words drove you to my posts. But I was wrong. You’re just like all the others. You only come here for the SEX.

Thanks to Blogger’s new format, I can easily see which posts have received the most traffic, and the posts with sexy names have overwhelmingly received the most visits (e.g., "Crazy Sexy Men"; "Sluts and Twats and C!#ts, Oh My"; and "Best Sext Ever" ).

So the truth is there will be no penis party here today. I just used a sexy (and delightfully alliterative) title as a ploy to lure you perverts to my page. 

Hi, everyone!

However, since I am writing this blog for your reading pleasure, I will give you what you want. I’ll give you a little grammar porn: 

Why don’t you come over here and dangle that participle? 

Let’s conjugate all night long.

I love how you insert your punctuation.

Are you satisfied?

I'm Bad

A couple of years ago, one of my students was eating a burrito. The student looked like she was enjoying the burrito, but then she exclaimed, “This burrito is dank!”

I was kind of confused. Why did this student look so content if her burrito was unpleasantly moist?

Upon further inquiry, I learned that dank was the new bad. Remember back in the ‘80s when bad meant both “bad” and “good”? Dank, too, can mean both. 

(I also learned that nothing makes you feel older than not knowing what “kids these days” are talking about and realizing that the slang you’re familiar with is circa "gag me with a spoon.") 

I was reminded of my "dank" experience when I read the hilarious blog post from my critique partner and fellow English instructor, Holly Vance. Her post was about her confusion regarding her students’ use of the word smashed. She didn’t know if her students were talking about getting drunk, laid, or owned. 

All I can say is thank god we have i.e.

I.e. is an abbreviation of a Latin phrase that basically translates to “in other words.” It’s used for clarification.

Therefore, this is what my student SHOULD HAVE said to achieve maximum clarity: 

This burrito is dank (i.e., awesome)!

Sometimes we confuse i.e. and e.g. However, don’t confuse them. That would be totally dank. And I don’t mean in a good way. I.e. means “in other words,” and e.g. means “for example.”  

This weekend, I am going to get smashed (i.e., drunk).

*I am clarifying what I mean by smashed.

I’ve been known to have quite an eclectic palate for alcohol (i.e., I’ll drink anything).

*I am clarifying what I mean by “eclectic pallet.”

I am going to go to the liquor store after work to get some of my favorites (e.g., Zima, Boone’s Strawberry Hill, and Manischewitz).

*I am providing examples of a few of my faves (but I’ll drink anything).

Because I am sophisticated, I like to add a garnish to my Zima (e.g., a lime wedge or a tiny umbrella).

*I am providing examples of garnishes.

I hope you have a dank weekend! I hope it’s really bad!

Settling for Good Enough

If you’ve ever spent time inside a college faculty lounge, you know that the number one thing teachers do in there is bitch about their students. We bitch about them texting during class when they should be hanging onto every bit of brilliance we espouse. We bitch about them spending more time on Facebook than on their homework. We bitch about how they don’t realize how lucky they are to have the Internet because when we were in college we had to swim uphill in quicksand to the library and read BOOKS.

Early in my career, I promised myself that if I ever became too embittered it was going to be time for me to find a new job. 

Well, after the batch of papers I just graded, I’m seriously considering updating my résumé. Please allow me this rant:

For my Critical Thinking class, my students were supposed to read articles and identify strong and weak points. (Of course, I provided them with criteria and a rubric and all that good stuff.) One of my students identified a point made by a Kardashian as a strong point. And this wasn’t just any old point either. It was really Kontroversial. Are you ready? One of the Kardashians claimed that it was a good idea to wear socks on an airplane because it can get cold. 

That, my friends, is what I am dealing with. 

On the one hand, I was expecting something a little more meaningful. On the other hand, it is a good idea to bring a pair of socks on a plane because it can get cold. 

Despite my frustration, I don’t think I’m embittered yet. I still do love my students. I have, however, lowered my expectations. My experience reminds me of what Bridget Fonda’s character said about dating in the movie Singles:  

 Janet: Well, when I first moved out here from Tucson, I wanted a guy with…looks, security, caring. Someone with their own place. Someone who said "bless you" or "gesundheit" when I sneezed. Someone who liked the same things as me, but not exactly. And someone who loves me.

Steve: Tall order.

Janet: Yeah, I scaled it down a little.

Steve: What is it now?

Janet: Someone who says "gesundheit," although I prefer "bless you.” It's nicer.

When I first started teaching, I wanted my students to discover their writing potential. I wanted them to relish in language and ideas. I wanted them to push themselves beyond their comfort zone. I wanted them to master punctuation and realize how it not only provides clarity but can add nuance. Now, I would be happy if someone correctly used the apostrophe 75 percent of the time. Maybe even 50 percent.

The apostrophe is my “bless you.”

Have you ever lowered your standards? What’s your “bless you”?

Rock Me Editor

Remember that scene in the beginning of Amadeus when Salieri proudly presented a "March of Welcome" in Mozart's honor and Mozart immediately improved upon it? Salieri was mortified.

That's how I felt this week when I received my manuscript back from the copy editor and saw all the grammar corrections she made--on my GRAMMAR guide.

 Don't worry; I am not going to plot the downfall of my copy editor.

In fact, in a way, it felt like a bit of  luxury to have someone read my work for errors since that's what I am constantly doing for my students.

Still, it was a little rough on the old self-esteem.

You know what would really help? If you would leave comments riddled with grammar errors.

Misery does love company.

American Cheese

Once upon a time, before the days of real jobs and bills, I embarked on one of those post-college, self-discovery adventures. I ended up living in a village on the Caribbean coast of Costa Rica called Puerto Viejo. Despite having contracted a bizarre mosquito-related disease, it was a wonderful experience; there were beautiful beaches, a laid back vibe, and hot local men. But, since it was a village, the culinary options were quite limited.  When a French woman opened a restaurant, my friend and I were excited by the prospect of eating  something for breakfast besides eggs and gallo pinto (a rice and beans dish).

We were stoked when the owner said she served french toast. And she looked like an angel when she walked towards us holding two plates of what I thought were morsels of sweet, egg-soaked, fried, buttery deliciousness. What she set down in front of us was plain old toast.

If we had taken her to court over it, I’m not sure we would have won our case because she might have had us on a technicality: she was French and she did serve us toast.

I guess we got French toast instead of french toast.

Since that traumatic experience, I don’t like to capitalize foods and drinks that include the names of nationalities, such as french fries, swiss cheese, and irish coffee. It’s not incorrect to capitalize them; it’s more of a stylistic choice. I don’t capitalize them for the same stylistic reasons I choose not to wear Crocs: I think it looks a bit clunky. 

Also, it could be confusing. For example, if I wrote, “I remember a little Danish,” it would be impossible to know whether I was referring to the language or a delicious pastry of yore. And if I wrote, “Have you seen that Irish stew?” I could either mean a soup or a troubled Irish person.