Fay, I love you. I have marked your awesome post. I split a gut with your highly educated argument (shit happens).
Wow, I didn't intend to spark a debate on Jersey. Just wanted to put out there what I learned. As a NYer, we often looked down our noses at Jersey. My favorite joke being "even the Statue of Liberty has turned her back on Jersey" (she faces Europe to greet the immigrants sailing into the harbor). But in Jersey's defense, the needles on the shore was found to come from garbage barges coming from NY.
As a NYer, we often looked down our noses at Jersey. My favorite joke being "even the Statue of Liberty has turned her back on Jersey"
Heh. NJers tell the same joke. I don't think anyone's ever been all "Yay NJ! We're great!" More "Yay NJ! We're freaks and proud of it!"
I mean, most lists I've seen outside of school of NJ stuff to be proud of have included the Jersey Devil (mythical creature, supposedly a changeling from the thirteenth child of a family back in the 1700s, said the haunt the Pine Barrens), Traction Park (actually called Action Park, a water park that had horribly dangerous rides, was staffed mostly by 16- and 17-year-olds, and served alcohol), and Jimmy Hoffa's body (supposedly buried under Giants Stadium.)
(OK, fine. In school we learned about Molly Pitcher and Walt Whitman and Washington crossing the Delaware and a bunch of stuff like that. But who needs that when you've got the Lindberg baby?)
Don't forget Jersey stealing Ben Franklins son and making him Govenor, and a super Red Lobster Back breaking poor Bens heart.
Hey, I passed a parenting milestone today!
...dealing with an epic bout of toddler puking at the gas station all over her carseat, dress, jacket and Plex's head. So, instead of church, we ran to the gas station bathroom (Matilda sobbing all the way, mostly in a puke panic -- this was her first time -- but also because she was worried about Plex), then Target when the diaper bag gave up a clean pair of pants but only a small thin top and no socks, then Papou's house to strip the car seat down to its bones, wash everything fabricky, and Clorox/Febreze the living hell out of everything else.
While we were at it, the rest of the car got a good going over as well, so it's now about as ready to be sold to some hapless moron lucky Craigslister as it'll ever be.
Matilda seemed fine once she got over the shock of throwing up and once I'd caved and replaced her thin little shirt with the ass-ugly hoodie with which she'd inexplicably fallen in love. The two casualties were her naptime (in all the excitement, she didn't let herself conk out until we were in the car on the way home at 3) and Plex's face, which it turns out cannot go through even a gentle wash cycle. I fixed him with a Sharpie, though, and she seemed satisfied.
Is it too early to pour myself a drink? Or should I try to unwind by going back to re-read today's grammar loveliness, savoring all the spicy brains on display until it's 5 o'clock proper?
JZ, a drink to accompany the re-reading of today's posts is the best plan. Trust me on this. Not early at all. Almost dark where you are.
eta: or what my friend Perkins said so much more succinctly.
drink and read is the side I am on
Abbreviation
We are lazy bastards, we English speakers, and we like to squish words together. When we do so, the apostrophe is a little pointing finger that indicates where the missing letters should be. Thus
>...[snip] Jen is a bitch
becomes
>...[snip] Jen's a bitch
That's a contraction, not an abbreviation. (I'm sorry, Fay. I couldn't resist. I tried... sort of. Says the ellipsis abuser.)
I've been drinking since 4:30.
Is it too early to pour myself a drink?
It's cocktail hour in Brooklyn!
Poor Tilda. Throwing up is no fun.
