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Friday 29 July 2011

THE WORD LIKE


Like - For such a small word you’ve suddenly become an unbelievably powerful four letter vernacular destroyer. Yes, I have a bone to pick with you, you little verbal troublemaker. Okay, perhaps not with you exactly as your intentions have always been pure. So I shall direct my ire where it belongs, at the human race – cause humans are such easy targets.

Once upon a time, ‘like’ used to be a sweet little introduction to a simile. Can’t you just remember English class when you were trying to grasp the difference between a simile and a metaphor: like, As. Like, As. “Her bosom was like a big fluffy bowl of pillows.” Okay, a totally horrendous simile, but you get the point. Not to be undone by other four letter words, like could also be used as a noun, verb, adverb, adjective, preposition, conjunction, interjection and particle….as you can see, 'like' darn near exhausted itself - such a hard worker.

And then a funny thing happened; the word like was swallowed by the zeitgeist in the most hideous of ways. It became this all-pervasive insidious filler in everyday language; a filler of uber annoyance that peppered the mouths of teens like a bad orthodontist. Every other word spilling out of these young people’s mouths was separated by the word like. “She was, like, soooo cool. Like you know, like, he was like, I’d love to go, so, like, um, like, wicked. Like you know.” Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh make the four letter bad man stop. And to make matters worse, like any good infection worth its salt, the word spread through the age groups, leaving no one but the diehard wordsmiths immune to its charm. [I’m actually eavesdropping on the two women next to me and I’m trying to count the ‘likes;’ It’s…'like'…damn near impossible].

At first it was just America where this rash epidemic took place. I think we can go ahead and blame a small pocket in an area of Southern California called the Valley. People, termed 'Valley Girls' talked in a melodious sing song way (and I’m being polite with this description) and the word like was thrown around with other language gems like: 'wicked,' 'you know,' and my other favorite (not), 'for sure.' And in short, where there used to be a pause, there was now ‘like.’ Then thanks to TV or international travel, I’m not sure which, I started to hear it abroad as well. My once civilized and well spoken English friends were dropping the word like, like a bad habit (see that proper usage of simile, did you catch that?).

Here is the thing for those of you wanting to rid yourself of an awful habit – yes, I’m trying to shame you into it. The word like sounds really awful in conversation unless used properly. In fact, I’ve heard it can lower your IQ [by like] 50 points. Secondly, we have become a culture where things are no longer what they actually are. They are now ‘like’ something. I shall give you an example to hammer this home. “She was like, so cool.” “He was like, so tall.” Um, NO. He was not like so anything. He was in fact, just tall. Heck, if you’re that bored, you could throw in a really (tall), or an egregiously tall...freakishly or exceptionally tall...and really freak out your friends with your flair for adjectives.

So I plead with society as a whole, let’s stop the epidemic and return ‘like’ to its proper place. We can even [like, you know – stop that!] start behaving ‘like’ humans who are actually in command of our language. Come on, I know we can do it. And besides, think of how left out ‘as’ feels at this point. Do it for the two letter words of the world! Do it for your country, your children. Do it for the poor little four letter word like, that is used, abused and downright exhausted.


Wednesday 27 July 2011

DATE NIGHT


Ask any couple out there and they will tell you the importance of having a date night. For some it’s a very structured undertaking, a weekly occurrence that is mandatory for smooth and fun sailing on couple island, and of course, it's meant to be fun. For others, for a litany of reasons, date night has become as extinct as the dodo bird. 

Here’s the thing, most couples will confess that the idea of date night can bring with it a substantial amount of pressure. First there is the sheer organization of it, especially if you have kids. “Will we be able to find a sitter? Wait, the last sitter ate all our food and went through my underwear drawer. Scratch that. Call your mother.” You get the idea. And furthermore, if dear ol' grandma has plans, the sitter will run you about sixty to one hundred bucks on top of whatever activity you plan on doing. Christ, can't you just taste the pressure! Suddenly one starts to realize that the activity on date night not only better be good, but worth whatever money you’re about to shell out. So your average Hollywood blockbuster with popcorn and soda may just not cut the mustard anymore. In fact, I know it won't; watching paint dry is better than the last three movies I saw.

Funny enough, with the King now in our lives, my idea of a date night involves sleep in any form it comes. “A movie, great. Can we see a drama so I can sleep through it? The pub, sure why not, don’t they have those great sofas in the back where we can catch a few winks?” My partner and I have even had those nights where the thought of finding a park bench and taking a nap sounds far more appealing than anything else we can come up with. Yes, we're that couple now. God we need an intervention from the fun police!

Of course, if you’re not total bores like we are, or you haven’t taken the kid plunge yet (which means your date nights are still riotous affairs that don’t have to end at half ten; in fact, the kid free section of the population probably rolls in stinking of tequila around the time I'm waking up with the King) one may start to think out of the box and try to make the date night a bit more unusual, or failing that, at least a bit more exciting. Of course even the sound of those two words (unusual and exciting – for those of you with bad memories) connotes an expensive endeavor, but hey, if it’s your one night off why the hell not. So you find yourself booking theater tickets for that esoteric new play that deconstructs deconstructionism (not), or the hip new restaurant you just have to try, or trying some new activity that sounds youthful, like um...go-carting. 


Of course, who are you kidding, most of these things you’re going to sleep through anyway (although I'd probably suggest you skip the go-carting cause sleeping through that may result in injury). 






Monday 25 July 2011

IT'S A CONSPIRACY!


What is it about men and conspiracy theories? I’m starting to think that it is in the male gender’s genetic make-up to think that the sky is falling and the government is in on it. Just the other day, I was having lunch with someone and he started in on his many theories about whom really ruled the world and how the chef at our restaurant was very likely to be a reptile who was putting mind altering substances in our food. Okay, it wasn’t that severe, but I’m sure if we had ordered dessert it would’ve gone there.

Whether it’s the subject of 911 and who brought down the Twin Towers, or who truly governs the world’s money, or the profound corruption of our government (one area in which I agree), or even the passé (by now anyway) subject of aliens, men seem to thrive on some big global conspiracy as an answer for everything. Don’t get me wrong, I’m pretty cynical as far as people go and I certainly don’t believe the news or hold faith in any existing government; I mean, if humans are involved there has got to be shades of gray and subterfuge somewhere. But saying this, think of the margin of error and level of secrecy needed for the gravity of some of these purported conspiracies. Bill Clinton could barely contain his oral sex escapade let alone an entire government being able to orchestrate one of the biggest atrocities to hit our country (for those of you that believe that Bush and his cohorts were responsible for 911).

I see it with the King already; he has this suspicious expression with one eyebrow raised when I’m trying to convince him to do something. I’m sure he’s listening to my reasoning of why he should change his diaper or get in his high chair and is thinking to himself, should I trust this woman?? What if she tries to feed me spinach instead of macaroni and cheese? How well do I really know her anyway?

I suppose the greatest question – for me anyway – is why? Why do men need to discuss their latest conspiracy theory with anyone who will listen? [Yes, honey, I’m talking to you as well] And not only discuss it, but beat it the listener’s head until it’s fact – or so they hope anyway. Many times I’ve been in the company of several men and the theories grow exponentially so that by dinner’s end, they are all in agreement that Margaret Thatcher was a giant lizard that ate flies and lived in a cave underneath 10 Downing Street. Don’t get me wrong it’s far more exciting than the alternative I suppose. 
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