Old English teachers never die; they’re just doomed to silently correct the flawed grammar around them.
I can’t help it. While I don’t verbally interject corrections into others’ conversations, there’s often a second conversation running in my head. It’s not so much my need to set everyone else on the right path grammatically, it’s just the irritation of hearing words used incorrectly. All - The – Time.
Imagine how a math aficionado would feel (and this takes true imagination for someone as number-challenged as myself) going through life with people peppering their conversations with “2 + 2 = 5.”
I know I’ll cover this subject again, but the latest burrs under my saddle are:
Eugenia and me are going to the truck rally.
(Really? What if Eugenia was previously engaged at a gun swap? Would you say me is going to the truck rally? Then again, maybe you would.)
I’m bored of wearing this anti-alien-mind-meld aluminum helmet.
(Learn your prepositions! They are not interchangeable. The correct word is with. Perhaps your helmet isn’t as effective as you had believed.)
We’re waiting for our invite to the asphalt festival.
(People. Have we become so lazy that we can’t handle two more syllables? Invite is a verb. Invitation is the noun. For instance, you might eagerly attend the dedication of a landfill, but not a dedicate.)
I felt truly validated last night, though, when my husband and I were watching episode 5 of this season’s Game of Thrones.
Everyone at Castle Black is milling about in furs and scratchy woolens going “Aarrghh!” when one of the leaders says, “Let them die! Less enemies for us!”
The camera then pans to my new hero, Stannis Baratheon, one of the many would-be kings of the series, as he mutters to himself, “Fewer.”