Mad Signce

I love funny signs.

If you know where I live, (and who else lives here) then you know that the sign in this photo that I actually took yesterday could not possibly be more appropriate, unless it was a photo of the corner of Old White St. and Slow&Grouchy Blvd.

Old people like big signs. This is why there are lots and lots of them posted around town. Most make sense, some don't even seem to be trying. They're just saying, "Look, we have a sign! It says things. Don't ask questions."

There is a diner here which advertises consistently mysterious specials, such as

"Open-face Spaghetti", "BB Cakes" "Fish Chops"

and the marvelous typo "Roast Bee"

My other favorite of the week is a flower shop whose sign advertises specials on Chrysanthemums, Lilies, and Gerbs.

My first thought might be, "Hmm.. Gerber Daisies?" but then I thought, "Well, they had enough room for Chrysanthemums..." There's no way to be sure, but don't be surprised if your dear Aunt Gertie receives a bouquet of gerbils for her birthday.

Church signs can also be fabulous-

my favorite was one I saw that informed passersby that

Troubles are like babies-

the more you nurture them, the more they grow"

If there's one thing we've all learned from troubles, it's that they're exactly like babies.

If you want to see some signs that are much funnier than this one, go here:

http://www.engrish.com/

My cousin is not in charge of government documents

And thank goodness. I love my 16- year old cousin. I do;

Here's my problem.

I'm old.

I'm 28 and I have never felt so much like the next candidate for Shady Pines as when I'm talking, emailing, or texting with my dear young relative.

Here's why- she and her peers have got me really concerned about the English Language.

Her profile contains such statements as

"*i got 2 hata blockas n ya cant stop me cuz if i take 1 off i still got 1 undaneath!!!-"

and

*skool is a biznachh. weekends r awesome. breaks= love. summer= camp= liiffee :D"

I don't even know what that first one means! Is it some sort of threat? An announcement about her preferred intimate apparel? Either way, I'm worried.

It makes me think about where our language is going. I mean how are these kids going to make serious communication with the world?

I mean if Thomas Jefferson was in the "Klizass of '11" I imagine the Declaration of Independence would be all,

"Whenevz NE form of gvmnt bcumz da-struktev 2 theez endz, its all tda rite of da peeps 2 alter or ablsh it biaaa!"

Egad, Gentle Reader, Egad.

Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to take my Fiber pill and fall asleep watching Matlock.

The Code

Yes, Gentle Reader, I hab a code.

This means I have a cold in cold code. (Code code?)

That sounds kind of glamourous, actually, like I am in possession of some kind of secret spy/intelligence information that will crack The Secret, instead of just snorting a lot.

I have been saying "Morning" to people at the hotel, but it's been coming out "Boarding".

I can see how this would be especially tricky if one were a flight attendant, and if you said to someone, "Boarding" people would be like ,

"What, Now?" and you'd have to explain,

"Do, Do, I'b sorry. I just meant to say "Good Boarding".

So here come the fancy people with their golf-related carry ons and the tiny animals on their pants (SEE PHOTO) going "Good Boarding? That's us, right? First Clahss?"

And then you'd have to tell them to just hode on to their Blackberries and sit dowd like eberybody else.

Unless they're African-American. I don't think I would tell them to hold on to their Blackberries, as this may be misconstrued in a way that would not be funny until MUCH later.

Shhh

If you are reading this brand-new blog wherein I'm going to express my feelings in my usual way, which is to pretend I don't have any and make fun of everything;
that means that you are in quite an exclusive group.

This is sort of like the diary I never filled in. Oh sure, people got me diaries for every fucking birthday, because they figured smart kids want diaries.

My mom got me this one that had Eleanor Roosevelt on the cover, and the title said "A Young Woman's Journal" in really fancy letters. Needless to say, being 9 at the time, I found this terrifying. "Young Woman"? I mean is this thing going to make me start my period? And what's with this big teeth lady? What exactly is my mom trying to tell me here?

Well, I would write one or two entries about what "boy" I had a crush on that week, and leave it lying around in a conspicuous manner for friends to find, never or rarely to be written in again.

So, Gentle Reader, please don't go flitting about the countryside telling everyone about this blog- I know temptation may be strong...

Unless of course, you happen to be in the publishing business, in which case I invite you to send a link to everyone you've ever met.