SPOGG

I like to scrutinize grammar, specifically the abominations in my coworkers’ emails. I’ve gotten such ear-steam inducing phrases in my inbox as, “your killing me”. I wanted to write back, “you're killing me”. I’ve also seen phrases come through like, “the self’s are full”. Seriously, where did you learn English? You all know I can’t handle, “please advice”. There’s also the rampant disregard for punctuation. I can tell you’re excited with just one exclamation point; you don’t need to use seven and make yourself look like an 8-year-old in line to see the Jonas Brothers.

Today is a good day in my book because I have been introduced to SPOGG, The Society for the Promotion of Good Grammar. The founder of this gem of a society needs to hightail it to my office and give my coworkers a whoopin’.

Here’s the mandatory disclaimer that you will see spelling and grammatical mistakes in my blog. I’m not perfect and I really don’t think I’m the queen of grammar (maybe just the princess, or the court jester). Anyway, I’m not trying to get all grammar elitist on you. I just think there are glaringly obvious imperfections in my coworkers’ emails and they should at least take a cursory glance at their compositions before hitting send. That’s all. Moving on…

My birthday is coming up and one of those SPOGG mugs would look mighty fine on my desk. Just sayin’.

oh the shame

I've been hesitant to post anything because I don't want to have to tell you about my weekend.

I did a very bad thing. It was so innocent though, it crept up on me. I didn't even notice it sneaking up, getting cozy, brushing back my hair, whispering in my ear, "Lit, you know you want to, come on, don't deny it". So before I could rationalize, think, resist - before I could do anything it was upon me. Cheese. There, now you know. I'm so ashamed. I totally went on a cheese bender this weekend.

It started on Friday at my co-worker's 40th birthday/conference room pizza party. My job was to bring the drinks. I had a brilliant plan to buy some 2 liters of pop in the morning before work. At the same time I would pick up something dairy-free for lunch. After singing Happy Birthday I would leave to "run an errand" but really go back to my desk and be good and eat my dairy free lunch and maybe blog about how my co-worker is really 42 but I'm just playing along. Things went horribly wrong at the grocery store. The 2 liters were beyond my reach on the top shelf.  It was 10 to 7 in the morning so there really wasn't anybody in the aisle to help me. I considered just buying 12 packs of cans but I wouldn't be able to carry them. So I went out to the bakery section and asked this guy if he would help me. It really wasn't a big deal, he was totally nice and came and got me 2 liters of Coke, 2 liters of Diet Coke, 2 liters of Dr. Pepper and 2 liters of Sprite. I put them in my canvas tote (because I heart Mother Nature and don't insult her by using plastic bags) and paid for my bevy of sodas and went to work. In the commotion of practically being a little person and getting sidetracked by my freakishly short legs I totally forgot to buy a healthy lunch.

Obviously my genius plan to avoid the pizza failed. I was so hungry at noon that I sang Happy Birthday and then proceeded to gorge myself on 2 slices of pizza and 1 slice of cake. I'm only human. So the dairy-free plan was ruined and the rest of my weekend consisted of consuming mass amounts of cheesy goodness. I even ordered mozzarella sticks at Lucky 7 on Saturday night. You know what, they were delicious, and I don't regret eating them. 

I have yet to re-kick the dairy habit and get on the wagon, so to speak. I just ate a Girl Scout cookie, and it was damn good. Thin Mint, in case you're wondering. I've decided that a life without dairy is not worth living. How can you possibly avoid cheese? It's nonsense. I don't know what I was thinking. Moderation, that's the key.  Not so much mozzarella sticks though. That was probably overdoing it.

put the gum down and no one gets hurt

Dear Cubicle Neighbor,

What new information can I tell you about cubicles that hasn't already been said? Cubicles are small, yes, obviously. Cubicles are drab, boring, lifeless caves of despair; this much we know. Our cubicles rival any teeny working spaces I've ever seen, on TV or otherwise, with their 12 foot gray padded walls and "privacy doors" that make the "entrance" a mere crack through which we squeeze. However, as awful as most cubicles may be, there is one thing most offices don't have that I get the displeasure of experiencing every day. Cubicle Neighbor, I speak of your gum chewing.

Every time I hear you open your desk drawer I get a shiver if disgust from head to toe, top to bottom, my body retracts in the certain misery that will soon greet me. I hear you unwrapping your gum and I get the urge to bolt, to "shut this bitch down" as my good friend Kristi often says. As soon as the gum enters your mouth I cringe and cover my ears. For the next 45 minutes I am forced to suffer through your awful, smacking, wet, chewing gum noises. Forgive the cliche; your gum is nails and your teeth, well, they're the chalkboard Cubicle Neighbor.

I really, really wish you could just shut your damn trap and chew your gum as if you were a normal person. I really wish my back didn't face the "entrance" of my cubicle so I could wear headphones and not have to worry about people sneaking up on me and catching me using the Internet while I'm supposed to be working. I really wish there was a gum ban in our office, except for me, because I like chewing gum after lunch.

Please, please Cubicle Neighbor, be mindful of the exasperating noises that escape your mouth. We are not 2, but 6 people sharing a very small space. What used to be a storage closet is now our work area; I hope you can appreciate how each little smacking noise affects us all.

Thank you for your time in considering my feelings. I hope you will take my words to heart and discontinue all use of gum.

Sincerely,
Me

PS - Please cover your mouth when you cough or sneeze, please stop clearing your throat every 2 minutes and the x in faux suede is silent. thanks.

T.G.I. go F yourself

What is up with my coworkers' obsession with the day of the week? I asked someone this morning a simple "how are you?" and the reply was "it's Friday". OK, seriously? I get what you're trying to say but come on, "it's Friday" is not an acceptable answer to "how are you?". Why do people let the week days control their emotions? Do you really feel like shit because it's Monday? Are you really doing ok because Wednesday is hump day which is almost Friday? I understand Monday through Friday are a knuckle dragging marathon through Satan's lair but do you really need to remind me what day it is every time I ask you a question? Please, stop and think. That's the problem; people don't want to think, or care about things. "It's Friday" is just a simple answer to get rid of me, to get me out of your hair. You don't really care how I am; I don't really care how you are. That much is established, but please, let's leave the days of the week out of it. I own a calendar, and a pair of eyes. Thanks for your consideration and have a great weekend.

I cannot advice so please stop asking

Dear Coworker,

I am not so fond of you. It's not because you demand the impossible (lower prices, earlier deliveries, quality at an affordable price, interest in your children/birthday/marital problem/stomach ailment/son's college entrance requirements/dog/car troubles). No, it's not those things. What I'm referring to here is the horrendous grammar that pollutes the messages in my inbox. I get this hastily written garbage daily. Before you hit send, read your email. I'd wager a hefty sum that you'll be as repulsed as I am once you realize how you look when you send me this steamy load of words.

This is the one. This is the mistake grinds my insides: "please advice". I let this one go for a long time. I understand that Microsoft bungled this one when they programmed spell check. Let's be honest though, this is not a difficult mistake to recognize. I assume you have been educated, and I assume at some point during your education you learned the parts of speech. Apparently I have made an ass of you, as well as myself. Here is a refresher, and I don't want to have to tell you again.

Advise = verb, advice = noun. It is not possible to advice. So quit asking me to do so. I cannot advice, even if you say please. I can't advice if the shoe is blue or yellow. I can't advice if the price is 4 dollars or 3. I am willing to ignore the various other grammatical errors in your emails if you just cut it out with this "advice" nonsense. I'll ignore your lack of knowlege concerning the use of elipses (i.e. "Hi Team....... ...... ....... ....). I'll even ignore your obnoxious use of the word "team" as a greeting in all of your emails (not grammatically incorrect but annoying nonetheless). Please, take my advice to heart. We will both be better people.

Sincerely,

Me