BRAINPAN LEAKAGE

…And it is US.

No, not the United States, although I do find some of the folks I’ve run into around the country to be a little suspect. And not the magazine either… Well… I haven’t read it, so maybe, I dunno.

But anyway, in this particular case I am talking about the letters U and S. Yep, a vowel and a consonant, go figure. Now, unless I missed my guess I’m sure you are wondering just exactly how the letters U and S could be the enemy. Well, they aren’t really, but it gave me catchy title.

Okay, okay… Calm down… There REALLY is a point to the U and S thing.

You see, I recently discovered that I am listed under the heading of “Famous Alumni” on the website for the district where I attended high school. I’m still a bit perplexed as to how this happened, or why the hell I am on said list, but hey, all good. Who am I to say… Well… It is ME we’re talking about here, so I guess I should have some say. So… Maybe I should be on the list of INfamous alumni… But, all this doesn’t really clear up the U and S thing, now does it?

So here’s the deal… Upon discovering this fact, quite by accident actually, I tweeted about it:

Just discovered that I am listed on my former shool’s district website as a “Famous Alumni”… http://ping.fm/m02wm O_o

Shortly after doing so I noticed an egregious error, but it was too late. Folks had already begun to comment upon the update on my FB page, and there wasn’t much I could do other than comment myself, pointing out that I had made an error and needed counseling. Especially since I was supposedly among the famous graduates all because I write books…

In case you aren’t noticing the error, it is the word alumni. I used it improperly. You see, alumnI is the plural version. The singular (masculine) version being alumnUS.

Srsly.

I know… Kind of counter intuitive, don’tcha think? I mean what with US being plural and I being singular you would… Well… Who am I to argue with the OED?

Oh… And the singular feminine? AlumnA.

Not even gonna go there… Nope… Not gonna do it.

More to come…

Murv

PS. Over on Facebook we’ve been commenting back and forth about the fact that in the original tweet school is spelled “shool” – I probably should have addressed that as well, as it would have actually made this post funnier. But, I’m ill right now so you have to give me a break. 😉

Suffice it to say, on Twitter, nobody mentioned the “shool” typo, but I sure did hear about the whole “alumni vs alumnus” issue. 😉

…Even if you don’t follow them.

A classic line from a classic bit of spoken word, that being Baz Lurhmann’s “Wear Sunscreen.” (To give credit where due, it was written by Chicago Trib Columnist Mary Schmich, actually, and performed by Lee Perry… Produced by Baz, so he tends to get  all of the kudos…)

Now that we’ve set that record straight, suffice it to say, the advice is sound. Of course, as the song also says, advice is a form of nostalgia. A way of fishing the past from the disposal, painting over the ugly parts, and recycling it for more than it’s worth.

Problem is, when the recycling center isn’t open, all you can do is lob it over the fence and wait to see if they send you a check. By that I mean, teenagers aren’t all that good at reading directions. Maybe some are, but I can only speak from my own experiences. Hey, even I will admit that as a teen I often experienced DADD – Drooling Attention Deficit Disorder – by the time I reached the third sentence in any given set of directions.

It’s probably a hormonal thing, who knows… (Now that I’ve said that, someone with SDD – Satire Deficit Disorder – will be sure to explain it to me.)

The thing about teens afflicted with DADD is that they will do stuff that you just can’t make up. And, in their defense, I’m more than willing to believe that the advances in technology have contributed to this problem.

Case in point, my niece.

Yes, the one who paid someone to stab a carpet needle through the side of her nose and then plug it with a bejeweled booger cork.

Now, the incident in question occurred a few years before the age of Proboscis Piercing arrived, therefore I know it simply had to be a case of DADD, and not brains accidentally escaping through the third nostril. And, I will give her kudos for actually READING the directions. The problem is, she comes from a different time.

Allow me to explain…

It was Christmas as I recall. But then, I’m old, so maybe I don’t recall properly. What I can say for certain was that the family was all gathered at my mother & father-in-law’s house for some sort of all day celebration. Although we had consumed mass quantities of food at some point during this process, the niece was hungry again and wanted something different than the leftovers. In particular she wanted some manner of carb. My mother-in-law rummaged around and pointed her toward a bag of those frozen biscuit pucks.

All good. A biscuit puck or two should certainly fit the bill where carbs are concerned.

Niece read the directions and then set about puck preparation while the rest of us gathered around the table and talked about the various things that non-teenage folks talk about, which is to say, stuff that bores the living daylights out of the teenage folks. Yeah. Grown ups are mean like that.

Four or five minutes into the conversation an odd smell began wafting over the half-wall from the kitchen and into the dining room. I looked up just in time to see the interior of the microwave burst into flames.

Scrambling occurred, and I don’t mean eggs. In a matter of a few seconds the fire was extinguished before it could spread beyond the confines of the newfangled coffee re-heater. Once the crisis was over and the investigation into the origin of the fire began, we didn’t have to look far. There, smoldering in the center of the Pyrex turntable was a charred disc. Truth is, it looked far more like an actual puck at this point than a biscuit.

As one cohesive unit, the entire forensic investigation team turned to the niece (daughter, granddaughter).

“Wow…” she mumbled. “I wonder why it did that…”

We were dumbfounded. “What do you mean you wonder why it did that?” one of us asked.

She shrugged. “The directions said to cook it for ten minutes. It shouldn’t even be done yet.”

The moral of the story? We need to bring back Home Ec in schools. If for no other reason than to teach these kids the difference between an REGULAR  oven, a TOASTER oven, and a MICROWAVE oven before they burn the planet to a cinder. (We’ll save Infra Red and Convection for the advanced class…)

Just think, it could even count as a History credit…

More to come…

Murv