|Then and there, Ralph made a silent pledge to come back next year and know how to spell fedora.|
Who wants to hear a formative childhood story?
Ok, I just counted one hand out of the five of you reading this, so I'll continue.
Long ago, in a faraway land - or possibly the exact same town I live in right now - there lived a young home schooled girl who was entered in a spelling bee. It was the very first spelling be she'd ever set foot in, so she dawned her very best stretchy pants, matching top, and just a dash of scrunched up socks over Keds. Her middle name might as well have been "Pizzazz."
She just hoped no one asked her to spell it. That's like four z's.
At any rate, the young girl took her seat on the stage and prepared to make a long distance call to genetics. For, you see, the child really couldn't spell that well, but her mother had been the state spelling bee champion, so, with arms raised to the sky, she cried out...
"Dear Lord, divine providence has seen fit to bear me of a parent who knows that i comes before e, except after c, and in words that say "a," like "neighbor" and "weigh." Please let me draw on some of this inherent ability. Amen."
She was the second in the line. The first competitor had correctly spelled his word. It'd been something like, "lemon."
Surely, they'd start her off with something simple. "Come on, "pot," she chanted over and over again to herself.
The girl retired from her reverie of stupidity. "What?"
"Your word is "laborious."
Panic set in. "Definition, please."
"Wah wah wah wa waah."
"That doesn't help."
"The word is "laborious."
"You're sure you don't want me to spell, "pot" or "dog?"
With hope, she meticulously spelled the word the way she thought it should be spelled.
Apparently, she thought it should be spelled wrong.
The good news is, to this day, I know how to spell laborious. The bad news is I still misspell things fairly frequently. I'm not the worst in the world, but I'm sure you've all had your moments where you've stared at your screen and thought, "Um, Paige. Do you mean "bear"? Because if you meant "bare," I don't think I can follow this blog anymore."
Today's post was sponsored by the good people at Grammarly. Normally, I don't do sponsored posts, but they actually offer a service that can help the blog we know and love.
Did they compensate me?
You bet your butt.
Will I be using their service to improve the ridiculousness you read here?
If you have a second butt to bet, bet it here.
I'll be using this fab service to make sure I spell Constantinople correctly. And now I use
Grammarly's plagiarism checker because, if you're trying to pass off my writing as your own, I want to know so I can send you a letter asking how things got so bad you needed to impersonate a woman who habitually has conversations with her coffee pot.
Until Next Time, Readers!