Backspace, Bitch

As Things I Tell Monica readers, part of your duty is to go out and combat stupidity on a daily basis.  By all means have a good laugh, then carry forth what you've learned into the world.

It's time to address the issue of illiteracy once and for all.  If you are over the age of 18, of sound mind and body, and have never been diagnosed as dyslexic or otherwise learning disabled, there is little excuse for poor grammar and absolutely no excuse for poor spelling!  The only time it should happen is when you're doing it on purpose, as is frequently done in this blog.  What's important though, is that I know when I'm writing something incorrectly, as it's usually done for effect.  A lot of adult men and women, however, do not know when they are writing something wrong, and they're usually the first ones to post it loud and proud for the world to see.  Unfortunately, nothing makes a person look more unintelligent than when said post is loaded up with spelling and grammatical errors.

I think it bothers me on such a deep level because some words are "sight words," meaning you should be able to recognize them and spell them with ease because you've seen them so many times in your life.  I'll never forget the day a student came up to me and asked, "Ms. McKenzie, how do you spell 'white?'"  I gave him the blankest stare, because here is a young man who has survived 15 years on this planet, and yet, cannot spell the word 'white.'  Bitch, your tennis shoes are white.  Surely you remember the white crayon..  The word is on TV and in movies all the time.  It's in the names of some of your favorite songs.  How in the hell can you not know how to spell 'white?'

One of my coworkers I shall never respect because that fool can't spell to save his life.  A few of his classics:  passangers (passengers), ergent (urgent), receet (receipt).  Now, receipt is kinda hard, I'll admit that.  But you've got to at least recognize that 'receet' is wrong!  Haven't you held a thousand receipts in your hand at this point in your life?

Finally, Facebook.  I have unsubscribed from more friends on account of spelling and grammar errors than for any other reason.  I'm not talking the occasional typo or mix-up (their vs. there).  I'm talking the chronic, grotesque, shameful spelling errors that make me wonder why I'm friends with you on FB in the first place.  It shows such a sorriness...such a laziness, that I can't even stand to see it in my feed.  I know a lot of folks have smart phones with auto-text that causes them to write things they didn't mean to, but that's why they make backspace bitch. Read what you just wrote, and if it isn't what you meant to say, rewrite it!?  Just because you wrote it once doesn't mean it has to stick.  There are do-overs in writing.

With all that said dear readers, do your best to not to make yourselves look dumb as hell in the public eye.  The world will already have an opinion formed about you, why help contribute to a negative one?

People Who Tell Me Things More Than Once

I must be in a pissy mood today, because all I can think about are people who annoy me.  I would like to introduce you to another type of rare bird, and they are people who tell me things more than once.

Now, I'm not talking in terms of reminders, or you simply forgot that you already told me something.  I'm talking about people, who look me in my eyes with all sincerity and tell me a story that they've already told me before.  This behavior occurs over the phone as well.  I mean, they will literally go from beginning to end, as if it's my first time hearing it.  And they're completely serious.  And they're not good stories, either.  They're crappy stories.

What qualifies these people as rare birds is the fact that that mechanism in your brain that tells most normal people, "Hey! Jackass! You've told them this already!" is either off or malfunctioning.  It also gives me a clue to just how insane and/or self-absorbed you really are.  Ironically, these people are also the ones who tend to talk my ear off and make me wanna kill myself.  It's almost like they have a record stuck on replay in their heads, and they'll hash and rehash the same stories over and over again to anyone crazy enough to listen.  I guess this is what happens when you check in with someone with an unchecked mind.

What Stupid Looks Like

If you follow the blog long enough, you will discover that some of my biggest pet peeves deal with people and their driving skills (or lack thereof).  Nothing enrages me faster than these damn bobble-heads who are attempting to navigate the road.

One of my favorite things to do when I finally have the opportunity to get out from behind a slow driver is look over and see just exactly what stupid looks like.  I need to know these things for future reference so I can catalog it in my mind and avoid people like them.  Funny enough, and after years of research, I have discovered that they all share one or more of the following characteristics:

1. old
2.  mouth open
3. both hands on the steering wheel
4. sunk way down low in the seat
5. lost
6. scared
7. simple
8. talking on that damn cell phone

Is talking on the phone and driving at the same time really that hard?  I do it all the time, and I don't depress my brake pedal to make it happen.  I just, ya know, pick up the phone and keep going.  I guess these fuckers can't walk and chew gum at the same time, either.

Seat Jackers

I arrived to my seminar this morning and discovered another person sitting in my seat.  Now, this room is large, and there's plenty of available seating.  He could have sat anywhere, but no!  He chose to park his hips in my seat.

This pissed me off because, Bitch, you know I sit there and have been sitting there every single day since this tired ass lil' seminar began.  You've been plotting on my seat, haven't you??  I should have slammed my laptop bag up against the back of his head, but I refrained.  I do have some element of self-control.  

I got over it and sat somewhere else, but it behooves him not to be in my seat again come tomorrow.  

Why I Could Never Be A Lesbian

With all the hard luck I've had with men, truly, I should be a lesbian by now.  I mean, it's the most logical choice.  I cannot, however, become one.  While there are many reasons why not, one reason prevails above all others:  It's because women talk too much.  And I don't mean gossip, honey.  I mean Words-Per-Minute.

I have friends who run verbal marathons of such proportion that they make me want to kill myself.  I'm talkin hours upon hours of non-stop droning that contains no real substance whatsoever.  Now, I'm all for a good CONVERSATION, but that usually involves a mutual exchange between two people.  These chicks essentially talk to themselves while I'm on the other end of the phone trying to find my gun.

I seem to keep attracting these people too.  I don't know what it is about me that says, "Unload Here," but they do.  I'm pretty sure my tombstone will ultimately read:  "Here Lies Lucas-She Was Talked To Death."