Or better yet, “I bellieve in llamas!” and “Llamas llive!”
When I was in 6th grade my English teacher was out for half the year on maternity leave. We got a fresh college grad in to teach us. Had an argument with her one day because during grammar, she tried to tell the class that the sentence “He is older than me” was the correct choice instead of “than I.” I didn’t know enough grammar to ask her what “me” was the object of, but I knew she was wrong. Still bothers me. grrr
Ugh…I would have collapsed. That is my biggest pet peeve – improper use of me vs I. It’s such a simple thing, and yet, you run into people who either a) always use me because they’re rebels without a brain or b) always use I because they’ve always been corrected, so always assume it must be I. Ugh and double-ugh!
As for the llamas – had it been my child, I would have had tshirts printed up with pictures of llamas and “I believe in llamas” on the back. I like to be a bitch in subtle ways, but not my kid, not my issue, just found it funny considering the proximity of the school to no less than 3 farms on which llamas are raised!
Speaking of, will you pick me up some chimaera guano next time you head by the menagerie? I’m planting a new row of tomatoes this year and I hear it makes excellent fertlizer.
Had my son in the pediatrican’s office for his 13 year old check up.
In January.
In New England.
We were leaving and passed another doctor in the practice who we know and he turned to my son and asked “Been swimming?”
My son’s hair was not wet. He was not in for a swimming-related condition. He is not known for his devotion to and prowess in swimming. As I said, it was the middle of winter in New England and COLD.
I couldn’t help it- I burst out laughing. Swimming? How about that oldie, “How’s school?”
The funny part was: what could have possibly prompted the question? In January in New England that wouldn’t be the default question you ask someone you see once in a blue moon! Especially someone who is not a known for their swimming and didn’t look like they had been swimming.
It was definitely an odd question in that context at that moment in time!
Well, isn’t the county a more meaningful socio-gummintal entity in the Old South than elsewhere? I remember being in NC and surprised to see big ole colorful signs along the road: “Cucumber County Welcomes You! Zue Keeney, Supervisor”
Iowa, where I’m from, has 99 counties, most of which are just squares drawn in the tallgrass in 1840something with a courthouse, a cophouse, and an eeensy little green sign on the highway, but I knew people growing up who could name every one. Probably because they had numbers, in alpha order, on your car plates. 1-Adair, 2-Adams, 3-Allamakee…97-Woodbury, 98-Worth, 99-Wright.
Texas, OTOH…Texas has enough counties (254) that you can categorize 'em by the kinds of name they have:
-counties with a letter missing (Aransas, Fannin, Kenedy)
-counties named after common household objects (Coke, Jack, Wood)
-counties named for verbs (Dimmit, Falls, Scurry)
-counties that look like typos (Erath, Foard, Parmer)
-counties that just plain sound funny (Deaf Smith, Glasscock, Jim Hogg, Loving, Motley, and Swisher)
-counties that seem to want very badly to be mistaken for other counties (Dallas and Dallam, Gray and Gregg, Walker and Waller, and the trifecta, Hale, Hall and Hill)
To be honest that does parse pretty wierd for me too. My sight-reading equated it to something like Sault Ste. Marie, and in my mind pronounced it in fumbling French as something like “Bor-BOWN san ri-Bay”. It took an a couple seconds to figure out what it really was. But if I was reading out loud, I would have looked like a dumbass.