So, I am going to let you in on a particularly interesting (to me, anyway) facet of the relationship I share with some members of my extended family. You may remember that while my current profession involves a lotta snot wiping and Balmex applying, I am just a rookie at this new gig. In my former life, I was a red-pen-toting-Canterbury-Tales-analyzing-wannabe-hip high school English teacher. This former vocation - thankless and unglamorous and low-paying as it was - had this unique ability to cause me to strike some supersonic level of paranoia in others - in particular, it seems, a few choice in-laws. I'm not referring to any Letourneau-induced paranoia - get your mind out of the gutter, you skeez - no; I am referring to that other paralysis instigating job-related Bad Guy: Grammar.
Here's the thing. I'm not going to correct your grammar. To your face. But, apparently my supposed BA Sentence-Diagramming-expertise makes me look like such an ass to some that they deem it necessary to say stuff like, "Oh. That wasn't the right way for me to end that sentence, was it?" Or, at the end of an e-mail from some, I sometimes see: "Please disregard any bad grammar that I may have written." Okay. Haha. I get it. I'm so assy that clearly I am laughing at you in my head about your inferior syntax and punctuation. Losers!
You know what's even more riveting to me than watching people get the coldsweats because of my morphological prowess? It's watching people -coughcoughcoughmotherinlawcoughcoughcough - think that they have just SHAZAM caught me in some gross misuse of our friend grammar. It causes quite a quandary on my behalf: do I go ahead and pretentiously avoid ending the sentence in its preposition - as assity ass ass as it will sound - because it's correct, or do I just speak like everyone else sans fear and not sweat it that someone is about to call me out and catch me - HA - on being craptastic at my former line of work? I know it gives some people a cheap thrill to bust me dangling my participles like I'm Debbie Does Dipthongs. And, I admit it: I make just as many grammar mistakes as others (well - maybe not all others; but most others). I forget commas and misplace modifiers quite a bit. But, okay, maybe I'm a former English teacher who you just heard lay down some slang, but it's not like I go around going, "Hey! Mr. Human Resource Manager: I do believe your previous sentence - in particular your use of the word jugs - could possibly be construed as harrassment in a professional forum, aren't I correct?"
You smell what the Rock is cooking, don't you? Let's all stick together for the sake of love and the comma. Let's cut the grammarians of the world a little slack, kay? If we won't do it, who will?
So, I am going to let you in on a particularly interesting (to me, anyway) facet of the relationship I share with some members of my extended family. You may remember that while my current profession involves a lotta snot wiping and Balmex applying, I am just a rookie at this new gig. In my former life, I was a red-pen-toting-Canterbury-Tales-analyzing-wannabe-hip high school English teacher. This former vocation - thankless and unglamorous and low-paying as it was - had this unique ability to cause me to strike some supersonic level of paranoia in others - in particular, it seems, a few choice in-laws. I'm not referring to any Letourneau-induced paranoia - get your mind out of the gutter, you skeez - no; I am referring to that other paralysis instigating job-related Bad Guy: Grammar.
Here's the thing. I'm not going to correct your grammar. To your face. But, apparently my supposed BA Sentence-Diagramming-expertise makes me look like such an ass to some that they deem it necessary to say stuff like, "Oh. That wasn't the right way for me to end that sentence, was it?" Or, at the end of an e-mail from some, I sometimes see: "Please disregard any bad grammar that I may have written." Okay. Haha. I get it. I'm so assy that clearly I am laughing at you in my head about your inferior syntax and punctuation. Losers!
