Grammaticence: The Apostrofickle Edition*

Grammar. A sensitive topic. The amount of distress I feel on behalf of small misappropriated pixels of apostrophication is quite large. Possibly exceeded only by sense of frustration which overwhelms me when said apostrofickles are absent altogether. Or when people hyphenate un-necessarily. Or when for some mysterious reason unbeknownst to me the author has decided to quite without precedent scorn traditional modes used to enhance legibility and withhold from the reader altogether the joy of a short pause or two signalled by a humble comma.


GRAMMANGST!


I feel I am not assisted in this by working with science people. Science people (Who? What? Why? Shut up woman; I will make as many broad, meaningless generalizations as I choose to, and there is nothing anyone can do to stop me, apart from if you are my statistics lecturer and choose to send me out of the class for outrages against mathematics, and EVEN THEN I will still secretly make a pie chart behind your back. Because they are fun and have colours and are the most cunning of culinarily-oriented graphical devices) ... Science people think that if you reference a sentence, then it is correct.
They are wrong.


In fact, things are right when people believe them (Me, Myself and I, 2011).
Example.
Do apples have caffeine in them?


Scientific answer: No. You are an idiot.
Correct answer: How much more value would you assign them if you thought they did?


It is for this reason that people buy shit, and the world (largely) functions. Liz knows about these things. She tells me at great length. Occasionally I listen. Our conversation this morning (over breakfast. Which I had to make MYSELF. What is the point, honestly. Women.) ran a little something like this:


(Warning: not direct quotes. Content may offend the truth. But the truth has a lot to answer for; and, as conclusively proven in multiple randomised, double-blinded, placebo-controlled, multi-phase washout clinical trials, is completely and irrefutably subjective. (Ferric et al. 2069.))


Me: "blah blah blah, something vaguely ill-thought out and left-wing, but multi-syllabic and with perfect diction, opine opine opine. Exclaim!"


Liz: "...ummm yes... but you have to think about the differential marginal value, and then take into account the relative risk-benefit ratio when making these claims. In addition, you must consider that not all of your arguments are valid under a macroeconomic scope adjusted to incorporate real-time market edition remake pterodactyl activities; not to mention disincentives of a manlicious nature"


Me: "Oh."
        [pause. In which I think for some moments.]
        "Did you just make all that up?"


Liz: "You will never know."


Grammar. Economics. Yesterday I played tennis with twenty-three lovely senior citizens. I say played. I ran; they laughed.


Which segways me to:


Tennis outfits.


The main thing that... three main things?
The three main things about tennis... four main things?
The four main things about tennis which differentiate it from other sports... five main things?
Nobody expected that.
Hrrrrmmm.


The main aspects that differentiate tennis from other sports seem to be:


(1) Rafa.
(2) His ARMS! Swoon.
(4) Federer
(11) His smile. Awwwww.
(3) Those hilarious hats they put on the ball-children in the Melbourne Open.
(8b) That the players wear outfits meriting multiple pages in glossy magazines.


Why? Well, for a start, tennis players do not have to wear uniforms when they play. This is a mistake. Sportspeople are renowned for having egos roughly the size of the amount of money Sarah Palin would receive from anti-choice campaigners if she filmed herself eating a burger in Westboro and sent the tape to Fox. (This is alot**).  So these beautiful, intelligent people (with abs. I had an ab once. It left me for someone else. I was quite... cut about it at the time. BAM.) get to prance around in ANYTHING THEY LIKE. It is just not fair!


Professional rugby players have to engage in organised cuddles with sweaty mean in tight, short, tight short shorts so that sweaty men in short (tight) short shorts will buy MySky and deodorant will be sold; netball players have to wear skirts (with short shorts underneath, to render the motive beyond doubt un-athletic); hockey players have to carry those hilarious sticks around with them; BUT TENNIS PLAYERS WEAR WHAT THEY WANT!


So do golfers. But we are talking sports here. Not retirement village options for your uncle GP White.


So; in conclusion:
Things I would like to be better at:
(1) Tennis
(3) The stuff quiz. (Don't we all.)
(IV) Counting.


Enjoy you're respective days.
Ruby.




References:
(APA style; Answer Properly Assessed. (Fact.))


Ferric et al. 2069; studies on iron; its roles, regulations and derogatory uses. Call number: No.


Ruby 2011; a reflective review of wisdom accumulated over the years. Call number: Only if interest on student loans in introduced.




*Now with less swearing! Cos I'm classy. (From Now.)




**More than abit. Less than aload. Quieter than aloud.