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Friday, January 19, 2007

It’s like a scrum in here

OK, I have received an unusual number of questions over the past few days and will make an effort to answer them in no particular order:

Are you all right? Yes, I am fine. Thanks for asking.

Why do you hate our country? Unless you’re referring to Reba McEntire, I don’t hate your country. I do get annoyed about things like taxes, freedom of speech, crime, freedom of the press, and so on. These issues are common throughout the planet and do not reflect my feelings about any particular country. Sorry.

What’s with the self-flagellation? You must not have any siblings. This is a hilarious joke to play on your younger brother. You overpower him, grab his hand and force him to hit his own face with it. Yell “Why are you hitting yourself? Why are you hitting yourself?”. Don’t stop until he cries. As you can imagine, this is hilarious.

ihave this rash can u check it? EW. No.

Are you in trouble for something you’ve written? Nope. If anything, I am too wimpy to really speak my mind. Sorry you misread that entry. That one’s probably my fault.

Do you really drink Newfie screech? Yes. Next question.

No, seriously. Seriously.

What the heck is that picture of the soldiers? That is part of the Vietnam Veterans’ Memorial in Washington – you have probably seen the big black wall with the names. I like the look on their faces: tired, apprehensive, determined. (Sorry, Cindy.)

Is your brother Nate really an uggo? Nah, usually not.

Are you this mean in person? I am assuming that you want to know whether I correct my friends’ grammar during girls’ nights out. No, I don’t, unless I’m specifically asked.

Where did you learn so much grammar? I read books. This is the same way you learned how to speak English: nobody gave you lessons, you just picked it up from people around you.

What, are you a Fleetwood Mac fan or something? Oh dear. Yes, I guess so.

1 comments:

Torq said...

I REMEMBER that abuse. "Stop hitting yourself! Stop hitting yourself! Stop hitting yourself!"

*shudder.... the deep emotional scars...