Monthly Archives: January 2011

January 18, 2011 · 10:12 am

Best in class

It might be irreverent to say it in this movie awards season, and I might just be a minority of one, but I wish they’d bring back the American Comedy Awards.

Everything that can be said about Sunday’s Golden Globe Awards has been said, by those far more in the know than I. To prove how out of touch I am, my favorite movies (drama and comedy) of the last two years didn’t receive significant mention; this is shaping up to be the third. Gran Torino in 2008 and Pirate Radio in 2009 went un-hyped. This year, one of my faves, Get Low, which featured one of Robert Duvall’s best acting performances to date, hasn’t really even been mentioned. Maybe Oscar will take notice.

What really baffles me about the Golden Globes is the make-up of their “Musical or Comedy” category and, specifically, why The Kids Are All Right was deemed a comedy. I watched it yesterday and didn’t laugh once, and wondered if there was simply a shortage of comedies and musicals and it just got stuffed in there for balance. I liked the movie well enough, and agreed that both Annette Bening and Julianne Moore deserved nominations for their acting, but can’t for the life of me understand the comedy designation.

Comedies don’t typically get serious nods during award season anyway. They’re often too raunchy for serious consideration. It seems that good comedies are rarer each year. Perhaps, rather than lump them in awkwardly with movies like The Kids Are Alright, comedies should have awards all their own. The question is: are there enough good ones?

I’d think that anyone with a bit of smarts and a working funny bone would enjoy two hours in a theater laughing until the tears flow—without toilet jokes,  off-color ethnic jabs or in-your-face genital humor.

In 2001, the year in which the American Comedy Awards were last held, Best in Show, perhaps the best of director Christopher Guest’s mockumentaries, took Funniest Motion Picture, Funniest Supporting Actor (Fred Willard) and Funniest Supporting Actress (Catherine O’Hara). It’s hard to find better comedy than that.

Word has it that MTV and Comedy Central are starting new comedy awards to air this April. I hear many comedic greats are involved, including Phil Rosenthal of Everybody Loves Raymond. This gives me hope that a void will be filled.

Otherwise, with no serious award to strive for, what’s the incentive to make a good comedy any more, except to entertain a country and a world in desperate need of intelligent humor?

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January 17, 2011 · 11:41 am

Much ado

It makes me sad when I hear a really interesting word, begin to adopt it into my own vocabulary and then, nearly overnight, hear it thrown about willy-nilly, having lost its distinctive meaning.

This makes me think about the first girls to wear Ugg boots. I still don’t own any because, by the time I became aware of them, they had already saturated the fashion scene and were being worn in places where they have no use, such as at formal events or in the desert Southwest.  There’s a narrow window in which to enjoy something novel before it’s over- or mis-used.

We were watching a morning news program yesterday, a story about a Tacoma, Washington, boy having been sent home from school for wearing a Pittsburgh Steelers jersey. The Seattle-based reporter ended the piece, naming the incident a “kerfuffle.” I said to my husband, “I love that word, ‘kerfuffle.’” Just then, our local news anchor said, “I love that word, ‘kerfuffle.’”  The horse is out of the barn.

“Kerfuffle” isn’t a new word and, from what I understand, the British adapted the Scottish “cerfuffle” and made it theirs long ago. It’s just that we don’t hear it all that often. It’s fancy and delicate and best saved for special occasions, much like Grandmother’s white lace tablecloth.

Whereas “kerfuffle” has long referred to commotion, fuss, brouhaha or misunderstanding, it seems many are using it almost euphemistically, to trivialize more heated or violent incidents. One literary blog elaborates.

Other words describing social conflict have evolved over time.

I remember studying the word “altercation” for a vocabulary test in grade school. The definition I memorized was “a wordy quarrel.” Webster’s defines it as a “noisy argument.” News writers and broadcasters now use “altercation” to describe a fist fight, even an incident involving gunfire. They also describe a barroom brawl as a “melee,” a term that has typically referred to combat situations.

As we’ve observed here lately, there is a place for language evolution, though I’m sad to see distinctive words become watered down through overuse. Perhaps there’s also a place for Grandma’s lace tablecloth for Tuesday’s hamburgers; just don’t get ketchup on it.

I missed the Uggs boat and, clearly, my new favorite word is aboard a train that has left the station.

It’s just a simple observation. I won’t make a kerfuffle out of it.

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January 15, 2011 · 11:01 am

What’s your sign?

This is the dawning of the Age of Ophiuchus.

Facebook was ablaze yesterday with people renouncing their newly assigned astrological signs. I suppose people have become so comfortable with the signs they’ve had since birth–or since the 1960s, when we first knew we had signs.

Capricorns who woke up Sagittarii and Tauruses whose bull horns are now rams horns felt their identities had been stolen. Even the Today show’s Ann Curry yesterday feared that, now that she’s no longer a Scorpio, she’ll no longer be good in bed. Just think how many of our friends we’re offending, though, when we shun our new zodiac designations. The moment I read that someone didn’t want to be a Sagittarius, my hackles went up.

In case you’ve been living under a rock, it seems the Earth has tilted and, hence, requires our 12 astrological signs to be compressed to make room for a 13th.

If this is true, then I am now an Ophiuchus, the serpent holder.

When I learned this, I immediately set out to learn the traits of my new sign, pronounced “oh-FIE-uh-cuss.” For decades, I have felt so aligned with the distinctive Sagittarian traits, candor and philosophical adaptability.

I haven’t come upon much information about my new sign except that, anecdotally at least, Ophiuchus is a healer, a doctor and a scientist. He is “intellectual and enlightened — achieving high success and authority in life.” This descriptor was followed by, “If you are a woman…well…you are just badass.”

Elsewhere I read that we have lofty ideals, are seekers of peace and harmony and like to wear plaid. Alrighty then.

It all boils down to this: I went to bed a candid, yet open-minded archer and woke up a lofty, plaid-wearing badass. This might take some getting used to. Then again, some might say the new persona isn’t that far off base.

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January 14, 2011 · 10:03 am

Hearts and smarts

If the pinky-red glow emanating from Seasonal aisle at your grocery or drug store hasn’t gotten your attention, allow me to be a killjoy and remind you that there is one shopping month left until Valentine’s Day.

As you mull your options, might I suggest a gift for the wordie in your life? How about a four-pack of instructional grammar posters? You don’t even need to set foot in the Hallmark store.

I’m not quite sure how to describe The Oatmeal, except perhaps as an online treasure chest of satirical entertainment—blog posts, cartoons, quizzes and musings on assorted topics, including grammar and punctuation–and great merchandise.

For the reasonable price of $32, you’ll be sure to get a juicy Valentine smooch with a quartet of 18”x24” posters, including “How to use an apostrophe,” “How to use a semicolon,” “10 words you need to stop misspelling” and “When to use i.e. in a sentence.”

Or, if you’re expecting and haven’t chosen a nursery theme, this is the best thing to come along since Baby Einstein. Really, what’s the baby going to find more useful later in life, the theory of relativity or there/their/they’re?

Each poster includes a detailed and annotated diagram walking the viewer through the logic of the assigned topic.

If grammar isn’t your thing, you probably aren’t reading this blog, but consider The Oatmeal’s posters on other useful topics such as “15 things worth knowing about coffee,” “10 reasons to avoid talking on the phone,” “Why it’s better to pretend you don’t know anything about computers” and “6 reasons bacon is better than true love,” though you’d want to save that one for another occasion.

I’m thinking about ordering one for my home office: “Why working at home is both horrible and awesome.”

But the grammar pack is calling…

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January 13, 2011 · 10:20 am

Don’t auto-correct my fat-finger, Smarty-pants

Now that “fat-finger” is an accepted term—at least within the American Dialect Society—we have a name for what frustrates us texters. And now, smart phones, thinking they’re smarter than we are, want to offer a solution.

When my smart phone suspects I have misspelled a word, it auto-corrects it. Moreover, when I type three letters, it tries to save me time by auto-typing what it thinks is the rest of the word I mean to type.

In an effort to save users time, the smarty-pants device can cause us great embarrassment.

I know of two instances in which a smart phone changed ordinary words–face and facts–to “feces.” I saw one online, stating that “his feces lights up when you enter the room.”

I saw one example in which a person asked a colleague to “come here for a sex.”

Recently I was texting my son and told him that company was coming for dinner. At least that’s what I meant to say. On his end, my message said that Cosby was coming for dinner. This week the darned thing changed “vice versa” to “vice versatile.”

Laugh-out-loud examples are all over the Internet, including at Damn You Auto Correct and FU, Auto Correct.  

Can you top them? What’s the most embarrassing auto-correct you have had committed against your fat-finger?

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January 12, 2011 · 9:48 am

Winning words

Somehow I missed the news splash—perhaps you did too—but last Friday, the American Dialect Society announced its 2010 Word of the Year: “app.”

Apparently, the Word of the Year doesn’t have to be a new word, nor does it have to be a single word; it can be a phrase. It does have to be newly prominent or notable in the past year, much like Time magazine’s Person of the Year.

The Society wants to assure us that, in voting in these words or phrases, its linguists, lexicographers, etymologists, grammarians, historians, researchers, writers, authors, editors, professors, university students and independent scholars are not inducting new words into the English language. Its announcement states that they are simply highlighting the fact that changes in language are normal, ongoing and entertaining.

“App” beat out runners up “trend” as a verb, “junk,” “Wikileaks” as a proper noun and one I hadn’t heard: “nom,” an onomatopoetic word connoting eating, especially pleasurably.

There was a category for most useful words, my favorite of which was “fatfinger,” a verb meaning to make typos by hitting two keys with one finger on a keypad.

There was a list of words that dominated events, such as “vuvuzela,” as well as portmanteaus that emerged from cultural phenomena–including “Gleek,” “Twihard” and “Belieber.” “Enhanced pat-down” ranked in the top four in the Most Euphemistic category.

The Society also voted on the 2010 Name of the Year: Who could forget “Eyafjalljökul?”

Read more about it and, if there are words you believe the Dialect Society overlooked, feel free to send them as comments to Word Nymph and we’ll confer our own award.

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January 11, 2011 · 9:59 am

Bottomless skit

As a native of Washington, D.C., I have always thought the nation’s capital could take some lessons from New York City. Fashion. Taxicab regulation. Pizza. Liverwurst on rye.

Unfortunately, it seems that, several years ago, Washington took a tradition from the Big Apple and planted it right here inside the Beltway. C’mon. I’d rather have the liverwurst.

Sunday afternoon, between 3:00 and 6:00 p.m., Washingtonians observed their fourth annual No Pants Metro Ride by boarding the subway and peeling off their pants. Organizers rallied riders via Facebook and other social media, instructing them to act as if nothing were wrong as they rode past all the popular tourist stops. Amusing, I suppose, as temperatures stayed mostly in the 20s. The stunt paid off for riders who took advantage of a local eatery’s offer of half-priced hamburgers for half-dressed patrons.

Those who know me know that I can’t even bear to sit next to someone wearing shorts on an airplane. The thought of spending Sunday afternoon in a crowded subway car awash in goosebumpy, pale, shivering, shrinking flesh made me glad to have been, well, anywhere else.

Now, D.C., can’t we find a more mature way to be like New York?

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January 10, 2011 · 9:43 am

Together forever

The milestones just keep coming. Over the weekend I received an e-mail under the subject line, “Happy 25th Anniversary.” It was from American Airlines. I wondered how the company knew my husband and I had recently celebrated our silver wedding anniversary.

I opened the message. It seems I have been an AAdvantage member for a quarter of a century, almost half of my life.  Looking back, this would be right. It was 1986 that I began travelling for business. I worked for a Texas company, so American was my first airline relationship. As a newsletter editor, I covered banking and technology conferences around the country, so I also signed up as a frequent flyer with the other carriers. So far, American has been the first to commemorate the relationship.

I looked within the body of the e-mail to see how I’d be thanked for 25 years as a loyal passenger. “Thank you for your business” was pretty much the extent of it.

That’s okay. It would be cliché to complain about what the airlines aren’t doing any more. Still, as with any anniversary, it’s hard to resist harkening back to the honeymoon. The airline ticket would arrive in my office a week or so before the trip, in a silver matte jacket provided by the company travel agent. I could go through security with my pumps on and there was no laptop computer to place in the bin. After lengthy and tiring meetings, I looked forward to a hot serving of lasagna, a cute little salad, a roll with butter and a slab of chocolate sponge cake on the flight home–in Coach.

Twenty-five years together. Couldn’t they at least have sent me a coupon for a pillow?

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January 8, 2011 · 12:33 pm

Dechristmatization

This weekend the last of the Christmas decorations will likely come down at my house. Or, more accurately, go up—to the attic.

We dragged our spruce skeleton out before New Year’s. I am guessing it was cut down around August.

The crèche should have been put away on Thursday, which was Epiphany. We’ll just say the Magi extended their trip, but they’ll head back to their Orient in the attic this afternoon. Most everything else is packed up. I hate the see the mantel garlands go, they’re so pretty, but they too will be gone soon.

The last to go will be the Christmas cards that we affix to the molding in our living room—primarily that which frames an alcove where the tree goes. The remainder of the cards spill over into doorways and such. Taking down 180-some cards will be time-consuming and bittersweet, because we’ll re-read each one, take a moment to remember each friend and look at pictures of kids we seldom see.

There are several other items that stay up all year. We don’t necessarily consider them Christmas decorations, but people tend to ask mid-year why we still have Christmas decorations out. The truth is, well, I don’t know what the truth is.

Over the years, our kitchen has developed a chili pepper theme, and there’s an iron chili pepper wall hanging that says Feliz Navidad. It’s been hanging for 20 years, as much for the peppers as for the Navidad. There’s a carved wood statue of Mary, Joseph and the baby Jesus; it lives on the dining room mantel year-round. There’s a collectible Byers’ choice caroler that the family of one of my hospice patients gave me. She has a special place on a little shelf and deserves to stay out of the attic. Because our dining room is red, there are all sorts of adornments—candle holders, berry wreaths, red glass bowls and such—that could be considered Christmasy. Maybe we’ve just forgotten to put them away, or perhaps no longer even see them.

Are there knickknacks in your home that you can’t quite explain?

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January 7, 2011 · 9:56 am

Like the corners of my mind

Actress Marilu Henner has been getting a lot of air time lately for a rare skill—some are calling it a diagnosis—known as Superior Autobiographical Memory. Henner is one of only six people in the world who are confirmed to have this gift.

She has talked about her gift for years and has recently written a book about it. The book is due out this Spring.

Henner appeared on the Today show yesterday, and maybe some other programs, in follow up to a more in-depth piece that ran on 60 Minutes last month.

I was struck in a deeply personal way upon hearing both of these accounts. I may not have Superior Autobiographical Memory, but I dare say I have something similar. Let’s call mine Excellent Autobiographical Memory. My friends tease me about the details I remember about specific days of specific years—what happened when, what day of the week an occasion fell on, what I was wearing, what song topped the charts and what was going on in the world.

The autobiographical part might seem a bit ego-centric but, as Henner does, I also recall details about other people, conversations we had long ago, what they were wearing (including in many cases, a fragrance) and, often, something about music. I can hear almost any popular song dating back to 1960 and tell you the year it came out. This isn’t superior, maybe not even excellent. But it is my thing.

I don’t know about people with Superior Autobiographical Memory, but I know the birthdays of all my friends and family, without having them written down anywhere. I know my credit card numbers and expiration dates by heart (too much online shopping perhaps?). I even remember the phone number we had when I was six (CL6-2808).

In this blog, I have shared a number of childhood memories that my family members barely remember. Often the memory is as clear as the day it happened, though it’s my memory, and not always 100 percent historically accurate. Usually I’m pretty close.

This is not to say that I have a great memory. I’ve been known to put my car keys in the medicine cabinet. I can be in mid-sentence and forget the simplest of nouns. (Humorist Dave Barry claims the nouns are the first to go.) The day before yesterday, I started out for Jazzercise and ended up at the grocery store on autopilot. Sadly, the names of rivers, mountain ranges, poets and playwrights appearing in crossword puzzles will forever elude me.

Yesterday I wrote about how dancing is considered to have a positive impact on memory. I’m dancing like crazy to keep my wallet out of the refrigerator, while my life’s DVD plays in my hotwired head.

Now where did I leave that crossword puzzle?

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