Thursday, January 29, 2009
Okay, aside from the fact that this is sheer tramp stamp FAILURE, not to mention the unflattering pucker happening there at the top of the crack, there is also a typo in the tattoo, or an errant freckle, I can't be sure. Nonetheless, what does this say about me that I cannot stop staring at it? Furrowing my brow to see if I can't spot more errors? That love is patient and kind, but that I am not? And while we're on the subject: I cannot stand it when I see judgment spelled judgement. That's just how judgy I am. The first 'e' is superfluous, people (unless, of course, you are British and going to the theatre), and here I am speaking directly to Perez Hilton who I am pretty sure is not British. Fact: I once went into an orchid kiosk at the mall to tell the shopkeeper that "Hawaiian" was misspelled on her awning. She kicked me out. Mahalo to you, too, "Hawaiin" Orchid Lady. But the thing that undoubtedly sucks the most about delighting in finding grammatical errors is that we all live in glass houses, and yet I cannot stop. The stone is just so satisfyingly smooth here in my hand.
Posted by Petunia Face at 8:51 AM