Posts Tagged ‘grammar’
Since I don’t have any time in my days (or nights, for that matter) to write a proper blog post, I thought I’d treat my readers to a spot of urbaning*:
1. A cute, smart, talented girl. She’s really cool and can find humour in almost anything. Everyone likes her. She has a beautiful smile and pretty eyes.
Theresa is too cool for school.
2. Spelled “Theresa”, it was ranked as the 717th most popular name for girls born in 2006, down from 226th in 1992. (It ranked 65th in 1950, and 102nd in 1900.) The name implies one who is destined to work hard, but who will receive great bounty for her efforts. Hot – as people call it, pretty, cute, beautiful, humorous, talented, a hard-to-hate sort of girl. The one that everybody likes. The name St Therese, Theresa, or Teresa – no particular way of spelling it** – means little flower; a flower representing beauty and grace.
“I will let fall from heaven a shower of roses.” – St Therese.
Theresa, with her natural beauty and grace, will become a woman who changed life as it is.
** Um, I’d beg to differ. I’m very particular indeed about how people spell my name. And about how they pronounce it, for that matter.
T: Okay, but if we don’t leave right now we’ll have less time…
Pim: Fewer time; you aren’t allowed to say “less” when Mim is around.
Kim: Fewer is more.
TC: So we´ll have just a couple of pints at the IV then?
TM: And by a couple you mean…?
TC: I know it should be two, but I actually mean a few.
TM: So not a sub´s couple then.
TC: Not a sub´s couple. Except if you´re the sub.
TC: Your sub´s couple of pints is a dozen!
Courtesy of my friend Early bird:
I don’t know about you but I absolutely can’t stand how “amount” gets used for everything these days: amount of time, amount of spoons, amount of women called Mrs Zuma, amount of Zim dollars down the drain, amount of tiredness one can feel, amount of energy lost fighting men who urinate in the street (Do they chop off their willies there? In that case, I’m on my way); amount of people who think watching a DVD in the dark is the thing to do during Earth Hour; amount of people upset about SA not letting the Dalai Lama in; the amount of times I have to go and shut the dog up.
Is there a large amount of phrases you dislike intensely?
Oh ja, before I forget, shukran for your nominations. Yes, thanks to all of you, I am a finalist the South Afrian Blog Awards 2009. Category: Best South African Overseas Blog. I should get extra credit for pointing out that´s an oxymoron, but grammar doesn´t seem to count much in the blogosphere!
One last favour (for this year, at least): please vote for me by clicking here or on that blinging widget on the right-hand side of the screen. I´d really love to better last year´s third place but, you know, only if you think I deserve it 😉 Although, considering almost 4 000 blogs were nominated this year, I´d say I haven´t done too badly just to make the finals…
Naturally, I was delighted to discover that there was a hairdressers, Salon Birgit, attached to the Hotel Schlössle, my accomodation in Vaduz. However, I was somewhat less delighted to discover it would cost CHF86 for a simple cut and dry. This was roughly the same amount I´d paid for all the stripping, dying, cutting, washing and drying I´d had done at H.A.N.D. And I even had a head massage thrown in.
I resolved to get my hair cut more cheaply when I was in London. Walking to the station in New Malden one fine afternoon, I happened to chance upon Judys Hair. There was a notice in the window saying ladies’ haircuts cost £24*, and I was in there like a flash.
The only problem was, the hairdresser was no Beauty. She didn´t know what I wanted; I didn´t know what I wanted; and the result was a presentable trim, but not what I would call a haircut. Granted, there was no longer the possibility of an unwanted mullet sprouting forth from my skull, but that was the best that could be said about it.
I continued the walk down to the station, the customary post-haircut spring in my step strangely absent. Out of the corner of my eye I spyed Sam´s Barbershop. I learned something that day. Never trust a hairdresser who can´t apostrophise. How can someone incapable of constructing a correct sentence, or in this case, phrase, be trusted with the inifinitely more finicky task of creating a proper hairstyle? I couldn´t help thinking I should´ve rather gone to Sam´s, and shaved my head again. If his grammar is anything to go by, at least he would´ve made a decent job of it.
* Trying to convert between francs, euro and pounds (and with those pesky rands demanding to be taken account of also) was, and still is, beyond my elementary mathematics. On that particular trip to England, I later found out that the CHF/£ exchange rate at the time was something like 2.3/1. I had been innocently working on a 2/1 ratio (don´t you just love whole numbers!), so didn´t save as much on the haircut as I originally supposed.