Friday, August 20, 2010

Grammar Rant





I have quite a few pet peeves. I guess that comes with having some OCD tendencies, but let me share with you one of my biggest pet peeves: bad grammar and lazy spelling.


I see it at work, I see it on Facebook, in texts, in emails...it's everywhere and it gets on my last nerve. Bad grammar irks me even more though when I see it done by the very people who are getting paid to write properly; journalists for example, and as shown in the picture above, advertisers. Surely they should know better.


Granted, English is a grammatically tricky language, but I'm pretty sure I remember sitting in English class learning the difference between their, there and they're. These numpties are getting paid big bucks to create signs, in this case advertising educational software for kids and they can't find anyone in the whole swanky advertising office that knows the their/there/they're rule? Give me a break.


Like I said, journalists are just as bad. I just read an online newspaper article written in Winnipeg about the "University off Manitoba". Off? Really? Off?


Your job is to write this article and you couldn't even be bothered to proof read it? Off and of don't even sound the same - they are two completely different words. Even if it was a case of fat fingers on the keyboard, let's face it, there is no excuse for it making it to print; proofreading would have caught it.

I'll say it again. I hate lazy grammar and lazy spelling. Because, that's what it is; lazy. I'm not a genius, and I know I make mistakes. I don't expect everyone else to be perfect either. I know that spelling can be tricky and let's face it, there are a lot more interesting things to do in this life than spend time remembering the order of the vowels in the word conscientious, but that is why people invented the dictionary. If you don't know how to spell a word, then look it up.

It's so easy, and with the luxury of the Internet at our fingertips, you don't even need to get up from your chair, or open a book. Google the word you're looking for...go ahead, sound it out...or go straight to an online dictionary. Maybe you're more on the fly? Well guess what? There's still no excuse. There's even an app for that.


Saturday, July 17, 2010

Like a kid in a candy store...

I love Saturday adventures with my kid, and today we stumbled upon a particularly gorgeous little place.


This Saturday we took a detour on a drive from Port Huron to Detroit and ended up in Marine City, Michigan.


Marine City is a quaint and charming little place with darling antique stores lining a waterfront main street. Amongst the antique and craft stores nestles The Sweet Tooth of Marine City, a delectable candy store. The owner, Todd, remembers kid's names and seems to treat them like his most important customers; something as a mom, I think is a smart and savvy move. Moreover it's not fake or creepy, which is probably hard to do, and likely means he's being a genuinely nice guy.


The store is bright and delightfully decorated without being overstimulating, and hidden in the back is an amazing candy-themed party room for lucky birthday boys and girls. The owner serves his stream of customers generous scoops of fresh ice cream and hand made chocolate treats with a contagious sense of enthusiasm. The colourful rows of candy dispensers and lollipop bouquets can take even the most jaded grown-up back to a place of giddy gumball memories.
We left with watermelon lollipops and melt-in-your-mouth chocolate Rice Krispie treats to share with some friends. We will be back for sure to try The Sweet Tooth ice-cream. If you ever find yourself in Marine City, Michigan, make a point of checking this place out. I guarantee you will leave with treats and smiles for everyone.











Sunday, June 20, 2010

My Second Mad Rant

Accidents happen. I know this. I have a 3 year old. We don't cry over spilt milk in this house; no, instead I just spend a fortune weekly on those over-priced but highly convenient antibacterial surface wipes. My home life consists of many a sticky floor, surprise puddle, or gooey hand print. If I was seeing a shrink for my OCD tendencies, they would be very proud of me. This is what being a mother does to OCD tendencies. (Thank God for the aforementioned Clorox wipes).

Anyway, with that said, this is perhaps why I enjoy the company of adults. Perhaps it's a contributing factor to why I could never be a stay-at-home mom. I suspect the daily knocks, and spills and accidents would be too much for this OCD mom, so I save a portion of my sanity by spending 7.5 hours of my life everyday in a cubicle, where I can talk to other adults, but have a slim-to-none risk of having to clean up any spilt milk.

This theory, apparently, provided me with a false sense of security, as proven by a traumatic accident at lunch the other day. It was a free pizza lunch, and I'm all about free lunches. I even brought my own plate from home, to be green, and not have to use a paper one. (This is a pre-emptive attempt at proving I am a good person, and don't deserve these kinds of things to happen to me).

I had my pizza, my ice-cream and my Diet Coke, and I was perched with my regular lunch pals on a big sidewalk flower pot-thing when the unthinkable happened. A lady sat next to me, without looking where she was sitting, and launched my open can of Diet Coke in an unstoppable trajectory towards my beautiful brown leather Tommy Hilfiger purse. And in it went. Top down.

Time stopped, and I could literally hear the glug.. glug.. glug of the good stuff dumping out into my purse. It's actually pretty amazing how much Diet Coke can come out of an upside down can in 3 seconds. I could hear the lady apologizing, but I was so enraged by her clumsiness that I could not even look at her. Instead I did what anyone in my shoes would have done and started rescuing my drowning belongings from the pool of pop in my purse. Wallet, phone, camera, iPod, keys, compact, lipstick, bluetooth headset, Tampax, Tylenol and a Law School book. Everything. Coupons, receipts, notes-to-self, Canadian tire money, boxes of raisins, Kleenex and Halls. I'm a mom. I carry a lot of crap. Out it all came, into the flower pot. I poured the pool of Coke out onto the sidewalk, all the while muttering scathingly angry comments about the damn woman who did it.

I used more than enough paper napkins cleaning up that mess to make up for my attempt at being green, and put everything into a handy little bag in a pouch that I had in my purse. I cannot begin to explain how much this ruined my free pizza lunch though. I was mad. You would be too if there were Diet Coke droplets inside your Yves Saint Laurent Touche Eclat.

So anyway, all the expensive stuff still works. I lost a lot of paper and Tampax, but whatever, I guess my purse needed a good clean out probably in the end. I'm almost over the whole incident, but am re-thinking my theory on hanging out with grown-ups. At least when I'm with my kiddo, I expect the mishaps...I'm ready for shrug it off and smile about it, armed with a box of baby wipes and a ditty about spilt milk.

It's a good job my little one doesn't drink Diet Coke yet, because I do cry over that.

Monday, June 7, 2010

My First Mad Blog Rant

So, here's the real reason I started a blog. I get mad, about a lot of things. There is a ridiculous amount of stupid, rude and obnoxious people around and I get mad at them, a lot.
I thought a blog would be a nice place to rant a little about the things in the world that generally annoy and infuriate me on a daily basis. Noone has to listen to me. Nope, if you don't like what I'm ranting about, just close the blog and move on. So, here is my first mad rant, and oh, boy, it's a good one.

I clicked on a link today on a friend's facebook page - I knew going in it wasn't a good idea, and the truth is, I got as far as the 4th paragraph before closing the whole thing down. But I couldn't stop there, went back to the article and finished reading the whole thing.
Here is the link: http://www.beliefnet.com/Love-Family/Relationships/2006/07/Moms-Dont-Forget-To-Feed-Your-Marriages.aspx?p=1

Now, for those of you who don't know, I'm a Feminist. No disclaimers, no apologies, I'm a Feminist with a capital F. I have the education to back it up too; a Women's Studies degree, and some pretty applicable life experience to speak from as well. If this clown wrote this article to get a reaction from Feminists like me, then he has succeeded. Such an ignorant, condescending article cannot go without comment or criticism.

I will try to avoid commenting on the religious root of the article and the advice; that's a whole other post. Suffice to say that organized mainstream religion has a hell of a lot to answer for. I'll also ignore for the moment the heterocentric viewpoint of the whole article, and the innane assumption that all mothers are automatically 'wives'.

No, I'll focus on this guy's assumption that women's breasts are primarily a sex toy, and that thanks to the wonder of science and technology, formula, breast pumps, bottles, cribs and baby monitors, women can stop the silliness of bonding with their infants and toddlers, and return to providing their men with hours of boobilicious entertainment. I'm not sure there are enough words in the thesaurus under idiot, to describe how I feel about this guy.

Breasts are feeding stations. Complex mammary glands, supported by important ligaments, and home to the precious alveoli that allow mothers to nourish their babies. Breasts are for babies first, and everything else second. Of course, they play a role in attraction, and of course, as with many other body parts, they can be enjoyed romantically, but it takes a pretty self-centred, insecure man to resent a suckling baby, or the breastfeeding mother.

If you haven't already, start teaching your children that breastfeeding is a natural and beautiful part of human life. Support and encourage other women to breastfeed in public. Don't feel pressured in covering your nursing baby's head under a blanket, and use visible breastfeeding women as teachable moments. Women's and girl's bodies are dangerously and overly sexualized everyday on billboards, on commercials, in movies, music vidoes and in magazines.

The boobs are ours, ladies. Claim them back.
If you choose to share yours, go for it! Just make sure it's with someone who respects the true power and beauty of them.

Wednesday, May 19, 2010

Damn dinosaurs



Iguanadon, Ambeosaur, Plateosaur, Stegosaur, Tyrannosaur, Ultrasaur, Velociraptor.

Yes, they're all types of dinosaur. Everyone who wrote the June 2009 LSAT knows that little tidbit of information. But for those who didn't indulge such self-torture, let me back up a little.

The LSAT (Law School Admission Test) is a horrid, evil test of 100 multiple choice questions that test logical and analytical reasoning and reading comprehension. The worst thing about the test is the time constraints so preparation is key in order to anticipate the kinds of questions that are posed.

I spent many hours preparing for the LSAT, sacrificing many Coronation Street marathons on a Sunday morning to sit like a geek in the local Starbucks furiously 'bubbling' my answers in LSAT practice books. I knew that the hardest part for me would be the logic games section - so I practiced a lot, and diagrammed a million silly logic games. In the end I actually felt pretty confident going in to the test that I could take on just about anything in that section.

So, along came the day of the LSAT and the damn infamous dino question with it's obscure dinosaur types and the even more obscure possibility that any of them could be mauve. My palms started sweating as I realized the seconds (and minutes) were ticking by, and I was completely stumped. I ruled out the answers I could and then 'strategically' (randomly) guessed E on the rest of the questions in the game. I still had a couple of sections to go and mentally I had taken a hit. Ugh. Damn bloody dinosaurs.

For weeks after the LSAT I kid you not, I was haunted by dinosaurs. They were everywhere I looked. We took a family trip to a local zoo/park thing and there were statues of dinosaurs everywhere. (See pic of me strangling one of these statues!) I bought a bed for my little guy and guess what colorful creatures patterned the mattress? Yup, dinosaurs. They were everywhere. I tried to forget about the test results for the torturous 4 weeks afterwards, but dinosuars kept popping up and reminding me about that awful question, which I figured was the question to end my law school dream.

Anyway, it turned out the dinos weren't big or scary enough to trample my dream. My LSAT score came back and it was worth celebrating. It was definetly good enough to apply to school with and I did. I will never go back and try that question again, I'm not even sure I could tackle a simple logic game these days, but at least I don't have nightmares about dinosaurs anymore.

My little guy was the cutest dinosaur for halloween last year. I even bought him the costume.

Dinosaurs: 0 Me: 1