So, in composing my previous post I used the word “pedaling”. The Blogger spell-check software refused to acknowledge “pedaling” or “pedalling” (both perfectly acceptable spellings) and suggested that I was “peddling”… No, Blogger, I’m pretty sure I wasn’t selling anything, nor was I “paddling” my bicycle down the street, thank you very much.
This shines a light on one of my (many) pet peeves. People (particularly cyclists) who use peddling when they mean pedaling. The bike has pedals; not peddles! Stop it!
I’ve even seen clubs (yes, more than one!) on organised rides wearing jerseys stating they were “peddlers” of one sort or another. Either they’re in sales, and somewhat clever; or (my guess) they’re stupid. Seriously people, don’t implicitly trust the computer; use your brain, use a dictionary… put forth a little effort!
It’s funny the things that fix themselves in our memories. Earlier today I invoked the phrase “pet peeve” and chuckled as I remembered the first time I heard that particular phrase. I was in (I think) 4th grade and had been sent to the principal’s office (also a first) along with my partner in crime, Randy Nichols, for returning to class after recess completely soaking, dripping wet. The fact that the object of our impromptu game was to run the gauntlet of agricultural-style sprinklers without getting wet was apparently lost on our teacher, so off to the principal’s office we sloshed.
I don’t remember in what context the principal, Mr. Mallow (Mr. Marshmallow, we kids called him), used said phrase, but I do remember that it really ticked him off when I couldn’t suppress a giggle as I imagined him putting out food and water for his “pet peeve”, which I envisioned being the size of a small dog and vaguely pig-like. He was kind enough to define the term for us, and after giving us a good talking-to, sent us back to class.
I’m not sure why I can recall this event with such startling clarity some 30 years later, but I’m rather glad that I can.
A new trend in beer advertising seems to be the brewer telling us that their beer has “more taste” than some other beer. Not better, just more.
Raw sewage has “more taste” than spring water, that doesn’t mean it’s going to be my first choice to slake my thirst.
I guess this goes hand in hand with the American “more is better” philosophy. Bigger cars, bigger burgers, more useless gadgets, soft drinks served in buckets; where does the madness end?
Say it out loud: “Barack Obama”! It’s fun… great big Biakabutuka-like fun.
Oh no! I’m hooked on phonics!
So…. The University of Dayton basketball coach, Oliver Purnell, is leaving and going to Clemson. This news saddens me, but for a reason you would never guess.
You know how there are certain jokes you never tire of that annoy everyone else? For instance; whenever someone (even someone on TV) says “hearing aide” I always, ALWAYS say “what?”… well, a couple of years ago Coach Purnell did a PSA extolling the virtues of reading and education, wherein he encouraged us all to visit the “Li-berry“.
I’m not sure which is scarier, his (mis)pronunciation, or the fact that the local stations aired it (for months) anyway. Sooo… every time his name is mentioned on the news, the commentary goes something like this:
Sportscaster: Flyers’ coach Oliver Purnell held a press conference today…
Me: Down at the Li-berry.
You get the idea. With his departure, I will now be deprived of this simple pleasure or, at best, cut back from almost daily to just the occasional obligatory “Former Flyers’ head-coach” mention.
It’s really quite sad.