Stop hating on the And.

It’s a perfectly good conjunction. And it’s a perfectly good way to start a sentence.

I know. When we were in elementary school, we were told that a sentence couldn’t start with “and.” So many people—many of which are my clients—still cling to this teaching today. But the grammar rulebook has changed, people. Even Scholiast agrees that this conjunction usage is grammatically correct.

So quit hating! And embrace the fabulousness of And.

What's aback mean anyway?

In the last 6 days, I've received 3 (count 'em . . . 3) separate e-mail communications in which people say they are "taken back" by something. It's "taken aback," guys.

And no, I don't know what aback means either. It's one of those words that doesn't really look like a word at all. Let's see what M-W has to say about this.

Ellipses and pretension. Funnified.

My sister is frequently funnier than me. Won't you see for yourself in this exceptional post about unnecessary punctuation and self-involved nonfiction writers?

Another pretentious read: Eat, Pray, Love. Written by some lady with way too much money and too much freaking time to spend thinking about herself.

Mmm . . . spear ribs

Okay, so I spent a week in Negril recently with my husband and some friends. As payment for letting the ladies drag them through the open-air craft market and a plethora of specialty shops (I couldn’t help myself!), the men got to select the restaurant for supper. They decided on The Rockhouse, an upscale hotel/restaurant on the cliffs with a killer sunset view.

As I was perusing the list of specials, I noticed a peculiar item—water melon spear ribs. Hmm. Watermelon spare ribs perhaps? I inquired further about these spear ribs and decided to give them a try—more so because of the curious spelling than the waiter’s description.

The good news is the dish was tasty (although I’m not entirely sure it was beef), and the “spears” came in handy when my husband tried to steal my rice and peas.

The unfortunate thing is that English IS the official language of Jamaica. I don't think the Queen would be too thrilled with their lax usage. Good thing they have fabulous beaches to make up for it.

Me and my trucklet

Last summer I became the proud owner of a shiny red RAV4. While my family—a bunch of die-hard pickup and SUV drivers—liked the little vehicle I pulled up in, they weren’t sure what to call it. While it’s not a full-fledged truck (like, say, my brother’s F-250 diesel), it’s much more than a car. And don’t even THINK about referring to it as a minivan!

So exactly what is it then? I prefer the term trucklet.

Although you won’t find it in Merriam-Webster’s Unabridged, I know I’m not alone in my usage. I did find a definition for the word on www.urbandictionary.com. And I think it’s a darn good way to define an entire class of subcompact sport utility vehicles. It may even have the makings of 2008’s Word of the Year. (I mean, if w00t can make it, the bar must not be set too high.)

What, is "mahi mahi" repetitive or something?

Last night, I had a very lovely dinner at one of our city's nicer eateries. The waitress (who was super nice, for the record) was telling me the specials when I realized that I must have misunderstood her on the fish dish.

"Excuse me, what did you say the fish special was?"

"Um, it's mahi. In a ginger broth with a rice noodle . . . I mean rice noodles and bok choy."

"Oh. Mahi."

"Yeah, it's really good."

Now, my crappier instincts were telling me to say something like, "Do you mean AHI, as in tuna, or do you mean MAHI MAHI, as in mahi mahi . . . as in it's actually called mahi mahi." But no matter how judgemental and petty I get in the comfort and relative anonymity (if you define anonymity as a state in which people can't readily beat you up) of this blog, I've come to learn that it's pretty sucky to just correct nice people in public. Correcting people in private is actually helpful, if you're not a jerk about it. Sometimes it's even funny. But in public, correcting people just makes you look like a butthead.

So I ordered my mahi in ginger broth with a rice noodle and bok choy, I thoroughly enjoyed it, and I tipped well. I also ordered a super decadent dessert to reward myself for not being a jerk. Yay me!

Getting judge-y about book covers

Last time I checked, "Are you ready" was a question . . . you know, like with a question mark. That's right, BOB, I'm making fun of your book. Maybe next season, you won't screw Jillian over so badly by choosing all the good players and leaving her with the whiny chicks. Maybe when that happens, I'll take it back.

Fun IS an adjective, you snob.

Apparently there are people out there who get all uppity when people use fun as an adjective. For example, when someone says, "That was a fun party," these weirdos think it's only correct to say, "That party was so much fun." These noticeably unfun people are operating under the assumption that FUN is a noun only. But it's an adjective, too! Look! M-W says so:

Main Entry: fun
Function: adjective
Date: circa 1846
1 : providing entertainment, amusement, or enjoyment: full of fun: pleasant

So, yeah . . . in your face, fun haters! If FUN is an adjective, I can use it as one. You are WRONG! YAY for me! I'm right!

Nourb? Vern? Voun?

Much like the nounjective, my pal Angie has pointed me to the Noun-to-Verb phenomenon. I'm calling it . . . I'm not sure yet. But here's an example of it.

Can we just font that headline up?

I just totally Michaeled in front of everyone in that meeting (made an inappropriate remark)

I can't wait to get fooding!

Incidentally, using Google as a verb is also a Vern . . . or whatever.