I'm in a crochety mood. My fiancée informed me I can't come home with this attitude. So today I think I'll unburden myself on fluff.
Words. There are some words that just irk me. Sometimes it's their sound, other times their usage, still other times the way people mispronounce them. So today's rant is about offensive words.
Empower. Seriously? Every time I hear a woman talk about how she feels empowered by such-and-such, or how some role empowered whatever actress, I want to throw up. Sorry. And it's usually women that use that phrase. Gay men run a distant second.
Go. As in, "Bobby was about to jump off the cliff, and he goes, 'Geronimo.'" Bobby shouted Geronimo. He spoke it, said it uttered it, he whatevered it, but he decidedly did not go it. It's one thing for a ten-year-old to say this, quite another for grown adults to continue to use it. Grow up already.
Dwight. This is a one syllable name. Not two. Even taking into account regional dialects -- and you know who you are -- this name rhymes with height, sight, bite and right. It is not pronounced Duh white.
Ask. Egads. If one more person axes me a question, I may just go Lizzie Borden on him or her.
Journey. Not the rock group -- although my fiancée would disqualify its usage on that reference alone -- nor the more mainstream usage as a synonym for trek, my objection is the overuse of this word on the ubiquitous reality TV dating shows that one can no longer avoid. I want to reach right through the TV screen and grab the person by the throat when he or she uses this term. It's so worn out that a journey in this sense refers to a matter of hours. Enough already.
Connection. Many of the same complaints from journey, supra, apply here. I suppose connection is the new millenium's chemistry, but like journey it is so shopworn that the word sounds trite and insincere.
Super-. Not the word by itself, mind you, but this trendy use of super- as a prefix to indicate dimension. I'm superexcited to see him. Seriously? What happened to very? It's almost retro-Valley Speak. When teens do it, I make allowances. But when adults do it? Argggghhhhh.....
(c) 2012 The Truxton Spangler Chronicles
