Call Me Maybe? Hi, Maybe!

I was at Loganville Middle School this evening for Middle School Orientation, and I noticed a sign in the hallway that said, "All drinks except for water and electronic items will be taken away...."  All I could think was, "Electronic items are not a drink."  I know what the sign meant, but that isn't what it said.

Those sorts of syntax errors obsess me, because I am nothing if not a complete dork. They happen all the time. When I use the fancy Bluetooth dial thing in my car, I push a button and say something like, "Call work."  The car's voice command computer then says something like, "Fan speed four" and adjusts the air conditioning accordingly. Then I try again, and it says, in theory, "Would you like to call 'work'?  Press the talk button and say yes or no."  I always always always want to then press the talk button and then say in a smartypants way, "Yes or no."  The only thing that prevents me is that, near as I can tell, my voice command computer in the car does not have a sense of humor.  I do have to say that a few weeks ago I was in the car with my 9 year old daughter.  I am secretly thrilled and outwardly scolding when my daughter finds the need to correct everyone's grammar.  Anyway, when the car said its thing, my daughter immediately piped up with, "Yes or no."  My chest swelled with pride. 

I've mentioned before that when I am able, I like to go to the 4:45 BodyPump class at BodyPlex in Grayson, taught by the fabulous Sabrina, who not only has a body that looks like it was carved by a master out of some exotic type of wood, but is sweet and kind and encouraging and somehow inspires my crowd of middle aged ladies to pick up heavy items and put them back down over and over again and then come back the next time for more.  At the end of class, every time, she says, "My name is Sabrina, if you have any questions."  Every single time, my obnoxious inner voice says, "And who are you if we don't have any questions?"

Pop music is the worst on many levels, but on this one in particular.  Every time Carly Mae Jepsen, or however you spell her name, sings "Call Me Maybe" which is every fifteen minutes, and every time the song gets stuck on endless loop in my head, I want to say, "Hi Maybe, I'm Lori."  This isn't quite the same error, but when Nicki Minaj sings "Shine Bright Like a Diamond" I want to give her a physics lesson: diamonds don't shine.  They reflect and refract: sparkle, if you will, but not shine.  Shine implies an internal source of light, which diamonds don't have.  I know.  I'm a nerd.  That's not the point.

I like words, and I like writing, and above all I like reading.  I get irrationally excited when I read an especially clever or poignant turn of phrase or read a vivid, three-dimentional description of a character or event.  This is as thrilling to me as a well-executed triple play or a no hitter is to a baseball fan.  I kow that communication is all about, well, communication.  And if the listener/reader gets the idea you have tried to get across, then you have successfully communicated.  So in that way, the writer of the sign at LMS made it clear that I can have only water in the hallways, and no electronic items.  I know my car wants me to say 'yes' if that is who I want to call and 'no' if it is not.  I know that if I have questions for Sabrina (like, "Seriously?  Were you trying to kill us on purpose or did it just feel that way?" and "How long will it take before I can once again lift my arms above my head without wincing?") she wants us to know who she is and that she is not just some nameless gymbunny.  Carly Mae is just being coy, and Nicki's just trying to talk about something sparkly.

I just like being precise.  I like things to be absolutely clear about what they mean, because it really does save a lot of trouble in the long run.  90% of the world's conflict, I believe, is caused by misunderstandings.  If there is a way to interpret someone's words incorrectly, someone will find that way, and the result is wars, divorces, law suits, and the plots of most sitcoms.

And goodness knows we don't need any more wars, lawyers, or sitcoms.