Hi, my name is Helle and I am a Grammar Nazi. The first step to overcoming your problem is admitting it, right? I never hesitate to correct my children’s poor grammar on Facebook (I’m sure they love that) or point out others’ grammar and spelling misdeeds. I can’t help it. It irks me when I see “your” instead of “you’re” or “their” instead of “they’re.” Drives me insane. And people who spell ridiculous with an e (rediculous)…well that just sends me over the edge. I won’t even mention what happens when subject verb agreement is broken, because then it just gets downright ugly. Anyone who knows me knows I take pride in being well-spoken and refined in my speech.
But as things usually happen in my life, this little problem of mine came back to bite me in the ass today. I was talking with a client over the phone explaining that her paperwork was accomplishing just what she wanted it to do. However, she wasn’t convinced. I was trying to explain, in layman terms, that yes we were fixing her problem. At a loss for words I said (you may want to sit down here), “Yes, this document UN-DO’s that.” In case the severity of this is lost in the written word, un-do’s is pronounced un-dooze. Yep, horrifying, I know. I knew it as soon as it came out of my mouth. KNEW it. But hey, you can’t un-do words once they spew out of your mouth. Lucky for me, the client didn’t catch onto my huge grammar faux pas.
I can’t say the same for my co-worker, who was sitting right next to me. Nope, she immediately caught on and burst out into a fit of laughter. She was bent over speechless and laying her head on her desk. For a minute I wasn’t sure if she was having a seizure or choking (she had just put in some very old, stale Laffy Taffy in her mouth). Anyhoo, whatever was happening to her made me start laughing as well, so now I’m on the phone with a confused client trying to contain my laughter and failing miserably.
As if things couldn’t get worse, I said it again. UN-DO’s. Shawn lost it completely. I lost it completely, finally realizing the horrific thing that had come out of my mouth for a SECOND time. I couldn’t stop laughing and I was aghast as I realized I was still on the phone with the client. I had no choice to explain to this person why I was having totally inappropriate, uncontrollable laughter. I certainly didn’t want our client to think I was laughing at her, so I had to fess up. And I did.
Luckily, the client was very understanding and had a little laugh at with me. She then told me she was adding the new word to her own vocabulary because she liked it so much. Lord, help us. I’m contributing to the erosion of our civilized society one UN-DO’s at a time…
I learned a very important lesson today. No matter how educated or refined you become, every now and then, your redneck roots will show. I think our client had it right. I’m just gonna own it. And possibly submit my new word to UrbanDictionary.com.
It’s February and everyone knows what that means! It’s the month of love, time to declare to your sweetheart how much you love them. And what better way to say I love you than with a card. Let’s take a look at some creepy Valentine’s Day cards. I suggest you NOT give your beloved one of these, unless you want to end up with a restraining order and a vacay in the clink.
Now there’s a card that says I love you. I love you so much, I want to eat you. If your lover gives you this card over a lovely dinner of fava beans and Chianti, RUN!
OK, am I missing something here? When did cannibalism become synonymous with love?
Sometimes you just want to tie up your loved one to show them how much you care.
Be my Valentine or I will shoot you! With love!
Now here’s a lovely sentiment which basically says Be Mine. Or don’t. Because I’ve got a side bitch and I ain’t putting up with yo shit.
What does she need? I can’t decide if it’s the Heimlich Maneuver or a trip to 3rd base.
Clearly he is aware that she has built a wall to keep him out. But never the less, he’s got a special gun to burn a hole right through it. No means no, buddy!
Um yeah… I’ll just let you use your imagination on that one…
I don’t know about you, but I think I’d rather just have a box of chocolate truffles and some champagne to wash them down. Especially if you’re going to shoot me or have me for dinner later…
So the gals in the office decided we were going to try this new diet. Well really, one gal decided to try this new diet and talked to the rest of the gals into doing it, with me being the lone dissenter. Then I stepped on the scale this morning and decided, yes I want to be a skinny bitch too! In other words, I caved to the peer pressure. What can I say…we didn’t have the D.A.R.E. program in school when I was a kid.
Anyhoo, after stepping on the scale I decided yes, I was in fact going to try the Intermittent Fasting Diet. Basically, you “fast” two days during the week but you are allowed to have 500 calories. The rest of the days of the week, you can eat whatever the hell you want. Forgetting about what happened the last time I tried to diet, I figured I could forgo eating for two measly days a week and in return be able to eat whatever I want the rest of the week. Who needs food?!
I pretty much had figured I was in for one helluva day when I discovered I had consumed 100 calories before 9:00 a.m. just in coffee creamer, since my breakfast is basically a little bit of coffee with a bunch of creamer and my breakfast lasts from the time I get up until about noon. That last cup of coffee with a tablespoon of creamer at 25 calories a pop made me realize that I don’t even like coffee. I like creamer and I just might as well give the bottle of creamer a good shake, pop a straw in it, and call it my breakfast smoothie.
Lunch rolled around and I thought, no problem! I’ll have some of my favorite sweet chili flavored mini rice cakes. They are only 100 calories! Matter of fact, my whole diet plan revolved around this delicious bag of flavored rice cakes, since they were only 100 calories they were to become my lunch and dinner two days a week. Then I read the label a little closer and realized there are THREE servings per bag. I could only have 18 teeny tiny rice cakes for 100 calories. I quickly decided there was no point in even wasting the energy it takes to eat 18 measly mini rice cakes and decided to forgo lunch completely.
By the time 5 o’clock rolled around, I was somewhat grouchy. I snapped at D because there was a crinkly sound of food being unwrapped at her desk. Turns out it was an envelope she was opening. Another co-worker almost lost an eye for eating a Reese’s cup in front of me. And well T is just dead to me for eating a Casa del Taco Mexican Chef Salad and throwing away the shell. Does she NOT know that’s the BEST part of the Casa del Taco Mexican Chef Salad?! That tasty fried shell is the ONLY reason I even get the Casa del Taco Mexican Chef Salad. Well that and the extremely delicious avocado ranch salad dressing (extra on the side to slather on the shell).
I couldn’t stand it any longer. I broke. I loudly exclaimed, “Y’all can just kiss my ass!” just as the Big Boss was walking past my office to leave for the day. And then in order to cover my ass for yelling profanities in the office, I told him it was all his wife’s fault for telling me about this diet that made me a stark raving mad lunatic. Things may become a little uncomfortable at work…
Who needs food? I’ll tell you who. Me!!!
All day while I’m slaving at my 8 to 5 job, I think about the silly products I see that are invariably making some lucky ass beau coup amounts of dollars. Then I think to myself there is no reason why I can’t come up with such a product and join the ranks of lucky asses sitting somewhere on a beach sipping fruity cocktails and living the easy life. My co-worker, T, and I
often rarely talk (in case one of my bosses is reading) about what we could invent that would allow us to join the ranks of such elite.
Some of these inventions have me scratching my head, the latest being the Wine Sippy Cup. Basically, some genius (and I use that term loosely, sorry Wine Sippy Cup Maker), decided to take a wine glass and set it inside a plastic tumbler with a lid. And now because it was on the Today Show or something, everyone wants one, at least judging from my Facebook newsfeed.
In my book, the Wine Sippy Cup is inherently flawed. I would never spend cash money on this item. And here’s why:
1. If I were to find myself wishing to partake in wine on the go (not that I would ever do such a thing), I would want a container that was not SEE THROUGH. Duh.
2. I would also want that non-see through container to hold as much of whatever adult beverage I would want to consume on the go. Because I’m on the go and can’t hop back over to the fridge for a refill. Look at all the wasted space in the Wine Sippy Cup. That whole thing could be holding booze, but instead, the Wine Sippy Cup holds a small amount of wine for the sake of looking cute.
3. Lastly, I would want my on-the-go adult beverage vessel to convey the message that I’m drinking anything but an adult beverage. I live in Ohio. We aren’t allowed to have adult beverages on the go. Around here they put you in jail for that shit. And until they have bubble baths and martinis in jail, I have no desire to check in at that place.
So…who is this cup really made for? Not the serious on-the-go wine drinker. Nope. It’s for that special friend of yours who you can’t trust to either not ruin your white carpet or break your fine crystal whenever you host a soiree at your house. If you really want to drink on the go, I suggest the new Straight From Helle 64-ounce opaque insulated travel mug.
So I was watching Seinfeld the other night, as I do every night right before I go to bed (it’s my little night-time ritual) and it was the episode where George loses his job and he’s trying to figure out what he’s going to do next. It made me realize that, like George, I find myself in the 13th year of being 29 years old, and I’m still trying to figure out what I want to be when I grow up.
When I started college, I was a chemical engineering major. That ended after a couple of bad semesters with Dr. Venkatachar (AKA Dr. Satan, because he was mean and he had the little pointy mustache and beard that you often see in Satan depictions) and barely passing marks in Chem 151 and 152. Then I thought maybe I would try civil engineering, but that dream was dashed after one drafting class and my inability to transfer spatial crap to paper. Following my advisor’s suggestion, I switched to Business Administration, and I found myself like that dog in the Tom and Jerry cartoons, propping up my eyelids with toothpicks to stay awake in class. Then I got a student assistant job in the prison, and prison just fascinated the hell out of me, so I took up psychology.
Which is probably why I still don’t know what I want to be when I grow up. I ask too many damn questions. I overthink things. I analyze every single possibility to the extent of rendering myself to the point of inaction. Freud would have a heyday with me. So tonight, without any analyzation (I just noticed the “anal” in that word, which made me think of Freud again, ha!), here are the things I want to be when I grow up, in no particular order.
Rock Star. Yeah, I probably waited a little too long to realize this career choice. I’m just now learning to play the guitar, which in my book is a must for any real rock star, and plus I’m writing this instead of actually practicing my guitar and my lesson is tomorrow, so I’m probably never going to be famous in this field. Nevertheless, I shall continue on with my lessons and efforts to start Chillicothe’s first all chick rock band. We’ll be headlining at The Thirsty Fox soon, so stay tuned.
Probation Officer. That stint I did in prison (working as a student aide for Ohio University) was the whole reason I went into psychology. The human mind is fascinating. The criminal human mind is infinitely more fascinating…and entertaining. Then there’s the fact that I grew up on the fine line of becoming a criminal/being a productive citizen, so I might actually have some insight in helping people cross over into the light. That, and it’s the only job I’m academically qualified for that would allow me to carry a gun.
Bartender. Anyone who knows me knows I love cocktails! Matter of fact, the last time I was in Houch’s (our local liquor store, and yes I know they spell their name wrong), I ran into my neighbor and I found myself giving her drink recipes and then guiding her around the store to buy the ingredients. Most women can navigate Macy’s like it’s their backyard; I feel more at home at the liquor store. Thing is, bartender hours are horrible and I’d much rather be on the other side of the bar. Maybe I could be a state liquor agent instead. Or the liquor merchandiser. I bet they even get a discount! On a related note, I need to either quit watching Cocktail on the weekends or learn to twirl a cocktail shaker and move to the Bahamas.
Queen. It’s a damn shame I was born in the middle of Appalachia because I would make a damn good Queen. I’m pretty good at telling other people what to do and not so good at doing those things myself. Wait! Epiphanous moment – that’s why I majored in psych. I think I just heard angels sing on high. On the other hand, I may have a mental disorder. Regardless, the only thing better than carrying a gun every day to work would be wearing a fabulous diamond studded tiara and bossing people around. If I’m going to pursue this career choice though, I’m probably going to have to relocate to a small foreign municipality that has such an opening. Or win the lottery and buy my own island and declare myself Queen. Then again, I may need to stop watching Island Hunters on the weekends, too.
Writer. Duh! I LOVE to write. Sadly, I’ve yet to find someone to actually pay me cash money to do it. I once entertained the thought of starting my own greeting card company because I have lots and lots of crap in my head that would make excellent greeting cards for those who might have been raised in dysfunctional families. Just try finding a birthday card for your father that just says Happy Birthday…thanks for the 90 seconds you contributed to my life! I’ve scoured the Hallmarks, and they don’t exist. But, then the Internets came along and now people just email their random birthday greetings/apologies/sympathies or worse yet, just make a Facebook post. I blame the post office and the ridiculous cost of sending a letter nowadays. Not really, I blame people for being lazy asses.
So, tell me what do you want to be when you grow up? Or better yet, tell me what I should be when I grow up!
I know sometimes men get confused about dealing with women and I was feeling a little generous today, so I thought I’d give all you wayward men some Helle-pful hints on communicating with women. See guys, there are some things you should never, ever under any circumstance say to us. I know we are a confusing bunch and it can be hard to remember the things you should say versus the things you shouldn’t. Hell, sometimes I don’t even know what to say to women and I am one. But nevertheless, there are a few certain things you should never say, and for the low, low price of FREE, I am going to share some of them with you. This list is not exhaustive and it could change at a moment’s notice, but that’s neither here nor there. Here we go.
1. Are you on your period? So what if we are? That doesn’t give you free reign to be a dick for a week nor does it give you an excuse to turn your dickheadedness right back on us. Nope. It’s possible I may be a tad more sensitive during certain times of the month, but it’s usually the week before. It’s also possible that you just pissed me off, regardless of what time of the month it may be. I am capable of feeling anger, sadness, and/or happiness equally on any day of the month regardless of where I am in my cycle. I guess technically you could say “You’re about to start your period” but I suggest you just shut the hell up instead.
2. Don’t be catty. OK, so I’m the first to admit that women can be pretty harsh on other women on occasion BUT that doesn’t mean I can’t have a legitimate problem with another woman. And because I might have a legitimate problem with another woman doesn’t necessarily mean I’m being catty. And for the love of God, quit adding in the “rawr” after you say we’re being catty. I know it’s your fantasy to see two women rip off each other’s clothes and pull hair, but that only happens in cheap porn or the Jerry Springer Show.
3. Settle down. What, you don’t like it when we get upset? Too bad. I’ll remind you that women aren’t the only sex prone to meltdowns. Sometimes we have a legitimate reason to go cray cray on your ass. And if that’s the case, settle down is the last things you should say. It’s dismissive and unless you are my dad, you shouldn’t say it.
4. You could lose a few pounds. Yeah, maybe I added a few pounds after the holidays, but unless you are sporting a 6-pack, and I don’t mean the Bud Light type, these words should never cross your lips. On the other hand, if you resemble Channing Tatum from Magic Mike, your girl should be foregoing carbs for the rest of her life.
5. That’s not how my mom does it. Oh really? Well alrighty then. Next time you should totally call your mommy to do that for you. Since she does it better and all.
6. Anything invoking your ex’s name. Look, we know you had a life before us. Doesn’t mean we want to be reminded of it. And for the love of God and all that is good, don’t ever, ever compare us to HER. Unless of course, you want another ex.
7. The C Word. Want to end your relationship in one easy step? Use the C word. She might not leave you the day you say it but just know when you uttered that word, you ended it. One day you’ll come home from work and all your shit will be gone. And honestly, if you only lose all your household goods, you should consider yourself lucky.
8. If you don’t like it, get out. Unless you really want her to get out…because she just may very well take you up on that. Again, might not happen the day you say it, but she’ll never forget you said it, and one day you’ll come home to an empty house. It’ll probably be the week before her period, so I hope you’re keeping track on a spreadsheet or something.
Ladies, have anything to add to The List?