Facebanned

A Facebook Addict Goes Cold Turkey

2010-08-24T15:03:00.000-07:00

I joined facebook in the fall of 2008, and since then, I have become more attached to it as time goes on. I was one of the holdouts because I knew I’d be an addict. I finally caved when I heard the words, “Are you on facebook?” more than once in the same day. Before that, I merely looked at my sister’s myspace page every once in awhile to see what I was missing. I never signed up on myspace because I was trying to bypass what has now happened to me with facebook.

The first wall posting I received when I joined facebook was from my sister’s husband: “Lurker sellout.” He was wrong on one count: No one could ever accuse me of being a “lurker.”

You know the type. Lurkers are online all the time in the chat menu, but they never utter a peep. They read, observe, and lurk. They are so quiet that you sometimes forget they’re there. Every once in awhile, they make a comment, and you feel like you should throw a damn parade in their honor.

That’s not me. I participate. I have a habit of changing my status at least once a day. I comment on other people’s posts. I post weekly “Self-Portrait Tuesday” photos and join groups my friends start as inside jokes. I am a facebook admin’s wet dream.

Except for the time I was banned from commenting on any posts because I set off the automatic spam alert with the number and frequency of comments in one day. Oops.

I also don’t do apps. I don’t play Mafia Wars and I don’t till a fake Farmville farm. I don’t send people “gifts”, and I don’t have sports stats posted on my wall because, while I’m a huge hockey fan (go Kings!), I am not one of those crazed college football types who knows the stats of every player and calls the team “we,” as if they have something to do with wins and losses.

However, facebook is now my primary source of communication with my friends and family. It is where I receive invitations to parties. It is where I go to chat. It is where I find out if friends are having babies, getting engaged, dating someone new, angry, tired, elated, sick or just drinking coffee. (And really, do we care if you are drinking coffee? It’s something you do daily, right?)

I have also now learned of two friends' deaths there.

It is where I put my current and old scanned photos. It is where I send birthday greetings. It is where I spy on train wrecks and envy people who just went to Hawaii. It is a weird life line, and it needs to stop.

It is really quite sick how we’ve all (read: me) become obsessed with social networking to the point that we (read: me) don’t want to miss anything anyone says or does, even if what people are saying and doing is not important, which is usually the case. (No offense because that goes for me too.)

Side note: If I read anything else about how the horrible government is and how horrible its policies, or lack thereof, are, or if I read one more inspirational quote, I might go on a deleting spree. Again. I once deleted 30 people in one day. I thought, “Who never participates, and whom do I never need to speak to again?” I since then have developed “deleter’s remorse” on a few occasions, but I’m not one to “re-friend.” My current list of friends stands at 312. Yes, I know the exact number. I also know when someone deletes me or their entire page. (Thank you, Greasemonkey add-on.)

In the last year-and-a-half, I haven’t gone more than one day without looking at my facebook news feed, except for when I was banned, and for that week in June last year when I was out of town and not near a computer for most of my vacation. I spent seven days not even checking email, and it was glorious. I spent time on lakes in Wisconsin swimming, kayaking and generally enjoying nature with loved ones.

But that was easy to do. I wasn’t sitting on my computer, and I had plenty of people to talk to in the same physical space. Plus, I gave all my fellow facebook-obsessed friends a heads-up that I was “going off the grid.” They knew I had “left the building.”

That was not the case in March.

March 29, 2010
Day 1:

This morning before I started working from my home office, I changed my facebook status to a quote from a novel I started reading for a second time last night: High Fidelity. It’s a fantastic book and an amusing film. I can relate to the music and the relationship troubles in both.

Two hours later, by 10:00 AM, no one had commented on my status: “If you really wanted to mess me up, you should have got to me earlier.” That doesn’t happen to me often. Usually when I post a status, I get at least a three or four comments within the first fifteen minutes. If I don’t get at least ten total comments, I feel slighted. Silly, right?

I once posted something innocuous that started a chain that reached 120 comments. My page is popular in Cyberland, which is funny because in the history of my 37 years, this is one of the loneliest times in my life. I guess it shouldn’t be shocking then that I spend so much time online.

This latest post was for all the movie buffs who would then add their own John Cusack quotes, or would make some comment about me being messed up, but that didn’t happen, and I got antsy. So I deleted my most recent posts, and started thinking, “What would happen if I didn’t log into facebook for a whole week while I’m sitting on my computer anyway? Would anyone notice? Would my eye incessantly twitch? Would my head explode?” Probably not.

I have to remind myself that I didn’t have email until 1997, after my undergraduate years were over. How did I live without email in high school and college? It was easy, actually.

Nowadays, there is no way I could do my magazine editing job without it. We only live without modern conveniences because we don’t know they exist yet.

So at 10:30 AM, I decided to prove to myself that I’m not a slave to online social networking. I can do without it for a week because I did without it for 35 years. I’m not going to tell anyone that I’m not there. I just logged out.

I will check my email, but I don’t plan to respond to anything posted on facebook. The delete button will be my friend until next Monday morning before I hit the road to Vegas. I will even skip facebook on my CrackBerry, which I turn on while I’m still lying in bed in the morning.

It is my own little private experiment. Let’s see how long before someone writes on my wall, “Where are you?” if anyone does so at all. Piece of cake, right? So far, in the last five hours, I have felt a kind of sweet liberation. Let’s see how long it lasts.

4:54 PM – Incident #1 – Mom yells from the other room, “Did you see Nicky got into NYU?”

“Nope.”

March 30, 2010
Day 2:

I woke up to a facebook dilemma. Already. I received an email stating I received an invitation to a BBQ that will take place this Saturday, before my week-long experiment is over. To find out the details and RSVP, I have to log into facebook. See what I mean about being too reliant on it? So, I’ve decided in the next day or two, I’ll go just to the page with the invitation, RSVP and log back out.

Dilemma number two was easier to deal with. I received a FB email from a friend who would probably worry about me if I didn’t respond for a week. I responded to her through our regular email addresses. What a concept. I told her I was taking a facebook break. She said, “Oh good! I thought maybe you were on vacation. I noticed you weren’t on there much.” Hey, look! Someone already noticed.

Other than that, it has been quiet. I have deleted a few photo comments that have been sent to my email, but no one has asked of my whereabouts yet. They are too busy talking to each other, and won’t notice my absence for at least another day or two. Maybe. They really shouldn’t. In the grand scheme, my comments on facebook are not important. It’s a complete time suck.

So why do I already feel left out of whatever is going on in social Cyberland? It’s like missing a 24-hour party with 300 hundred of your closest friends, and by “closest,” I mean, I’ve met most of them at least once.

Today I will go to the gym and the grocery store and watch my favorite show, Damages. I may even update my blog or read a book. Last night I had a nice dinner with one of my oldest friends, and all the while, I was not thinking about what my next status update was going to be or how clever I think I am. It’s refreshing.

Oh, I also received a friend request from my friend’s dog today. The dog can wait.

March 31, 2010
Day 3:

This sucks. I’m starting to negotiate with myself: “You don’t have to do this week-long thing. It’s not a big deal if you just go back on and check it out for a minute.”

Maybe I am in need of a facebook anonymous 12-step program. Is there one available yet?

I just went to the page where I needed to RSVP for the BBQ, and it took all my will not to click on my notifications at the top of the page. Those little numbers are so tempting. Instead, I closed the site down again. Like I said, this sucks.

12:00 PM – A friend of mine told me she logged out of facebook for three months once. A week seems like kid stuff now. She said she also puts herself on a twenty minute timer every time she’s on facebook. Ding! Times up.

I guess I’m not the only one with a problem. Hey, I don’t have three kids like she does. At least my excuse is loneliness. Okay, okay, her husband went to Iraq for the better part of a year. Twice. She wins.

3:00 PM – You know what? In the last three days, I have realized that the number of facebook email updates I receive is directly proportional to the amount of time I spend there. Today I have received none. Zero. Zilch. That never happens to me.

I also chatted with a buddy today who said my week-long absence from facebook proves nothing if I then proceed to “binge” when I get back. He’s right. Note to self: Don’t binge.

April 1, 2010
Day 4:

I’m too tired to care today. My 20-minute-timer friend said she’d be my facebook sponsor if I were to show any signs of weakness. I probably won’t need her. I’m starting to get used to being without it, actually. Detox seems to be complete. Sustaining my newfound FB sobriety will be the true test this weekend.

My sister said she went on my facebook page yesterday, and was dumbfounded that I had no new updates. She said, “I thought facebook was broken.” I laughed.

Man, my life is pitiful.

I’m missing all the April Fool’s Day jokes I’m sure. Meh. Whatever.

2:27 PM – It took three days and four hours, but someone finally wrote on my wall, and I knew it would be Pam: “I’m not enjoying the silence. Where are you?”

I also received an email from Amy stating, “I notice you haven’t been on facebook much. Are you okay?” This from someone who’s never on facebook.

Amy #2 wrote on Pam’s post saying she knows where I am, and I’m “freaking out.” Oh wonderful. Now everyone is going to worry about me. I’ll be doing damage control next week. I instant messaged her from Gmail, where I received both of their updates, “Freaking out about what?”

She was talking about a mammogram I had this morning. My first one. Welcome to old. At least it’s over. I’ve had worse things done to me.

Like living without facebook for a whole week, for instance.

5:03 PM – I’m now receiving virtual wall hugs from everyone because I’m “freaking out.” I sent an email to Amy #2 to tell her to tell everyone I am just fine.

I logged in to let people know I’m okay. Pam was legitimately worried about me. She said an addiction in which one talks to their friends every 22 seconds isn’t such a bad thing. I suppose.

April 2, 2010
Day 5:

I caved. *Shrugs.* Five days is good enough. I can learn to lessen my need for facebook. I don’t need to go completely without it. My 20-minute-timer friend is not happy with me.

Summer 2010 update – I have started deleting information and photos on my page and no longer feel the need to update my status all the time. I also have gotten good at skimming almost everything in my news feed. I also gave up posting Self-Portrait Tuesday photos. With more than 600 photos of me on my page, people know what I look like.

I do think, however, that more and more people are using facebook for events, so it’s almost a necessity to be on it if you want to get invited to in-person occasions.

And god knows we all need to spend more time face to face.

A little something on the side

2010-08-03T16:04:00.000-07:00

Ta-da!
www.vowsmith.com

Building a Site

2010-07-13T15:53:00.000-07:00

I'm creating a website where I will offer my writing services for people who are getting married and want personal vows, but who don't necessarily want to write them on their own. I will also write toasts for the best men and maids of honor, as well as online dating profiles for single folks who are braver than I. (See my original blog posts about chemistry.com).

When the site is ready, I'll post it here, but for now, while this business venture is exciting and fun, building a website is not easy! As a person who has a negative visceral reaction every time she sees html code, I will be sending the good people at squarespace.com a plethora of questions through this process.

I look forward to this niche offering, as I have not seen anything else quite like it on the Web.

Stay tuned for more information!

Also, I just want to say that there are only six more days until the Tool concert. That is all.

Grammar Nazi

'Kinda Hobo Style'

2010-04-13T16:15:00.000-07:00

(My grandma, Zella Patricia Detmers Drysdale, born 1926)

Here are all the letters I have left, including a really interesting letter from Ernest's dad in 1925. The Southern language in this missive is spectacular!

The first two letters are from Mamie about her father on his death bed. She talks about their "kids" plural, but I don't know how many they've had by now. She also says her father "can't stand the kids," but my guess is he is only annoyed with them because he's so sick and they won't leave him alone. Our tale ends here, sadly.

July 1st
Dearest daddy daddy,

Just a note tonight. I’m tired and Pa just ordered Uncle E and I to bed. He’s been awful sick today and was real bad at noon. Quigley was here. He had been to Anaheim to see this Dr. Johnston, the cancer specialist that Pa wanted Ethel to go see. This Dr. said Pa had only a slight chance of getting well and that was to take him down to this hospital and they would feed him through the bowels and get him in shape so he could stand an operation.

Ma was so mad to think Quigley went, she wouldn’t even listen. Uncle Edward [?] something else had to be done right away too, but still sticks to C. Science or having Mrs. MacPherson come up. He won’t listen to an operation. But I know what will be done. Nothing but what they are doing now. Caley and Ma and Zella long for Nance, so what can we do? Uncle E. said he’d bring his old sewing machine down and attach it to Pa and it would do as much good as the rattle box. Ha! Ha! And said they would take out his stomach entirely or cut it in two and change the tubes to the other side and he could probably live a year that way and then would have to have the whole stomach removed. He said the Abraham Cure was a fad and only warmed the stomach and then the cancer would spread worse. He said the vomiting was a forerunner of death and after about three weeks of it, there wasn’t any chance of curing. He said he was too far gone to rely on this Abraham treatment now, that it might have helped a little in the beginning. He said whatever we did, to do it quick.

Wish you were down here. The kids just drove him crazy today and they weren’t bad at all. But the baby fusses a lot. So I hiked them all up to Duell’s all afternoon.

Well I’ll go to bed and finish tomorrow night Darling.

Mamie

Thurs. Morn.

Well, I’ve washed some more diddies and got the kids quiet for a few minutes so I’ll finish this. Caley was up and he and Uncle E. just went to town. Uncle E. wants Pa to let Mrs. MacPherson come. Pa is disgusted with it. Wouldn’t let Ma finish the treatment this morning. Told her to take the damn thing away, he never wanted to see it again. Oh they’ll just let him be there and die. Nance says it might be a little softer and maybe not quite so big. Spit on him.

Pa has vomited all day and such awful stuff. No sleep for two nights and so weak he can’t turn over and says he is so sore and achy all over and wants his feet rubbed with cold water. I’m afraid he’ll get paralyzed pretty soon. He couldn’t talk today, only mumble. Was a little clearer tonight up or else Mattie, and Pa only say he might yet before he gets through. It makes me so mad. Edward says, well it’s all his own fault and if he wants help himself it’s none of our business, so guess it will be up to him. Hope you can come down Sat. I’m going to get out as I want to be here and get in a fuss. He can’t stand the kids and I can’t get them away all the time. We’ll make up the money business some other time.

Bye honey and lots of love,
Mamie

Camden, Ark.
8/8/1925

My dear Ernest:

Your letter just received. Glad to hear from you. Well Mr. (?) folk arrived today, and I will pull out in the mornin’. Goin’ south is all I know. Lost the opportunity to cash in on the Florida boom. Too late now. There’s a chance for another one in S. Mississippi and S. Louisiana. May look ‘em over. I could sell some lime in the oil field this fall yet, but don’t much feel like getting into a hard jam just now. Am going to take down the big road, and camp where I happen to be when night comes. It’s a great life. Kinda hobo style went down through the oil fields last Sunday to El Dorado and back 66 miles. Walked maybe 5 or 6 miles. Will let you know where I’m at occasionally. If you ever have blood poison, don’t forget antiflogistine. It’s great stuff. Have been helping my renter here until his wife got here, and now I guess I can travel some. It ought to do me good. My boils are some better. Used antiflogistine on ‘em. We sure missed it in Taft. Threw a fortune away. Just got a letter from Hank Pete and family. Gone fishin’ and huntin’. Hope they get back okay. Well, still have a chance here for a room. Hope it’s just loose when I’m gone. Thanks for your article. Believe I told you of making Hire’s root beer and ginger ale, and selling it out of 9 oz. bottles 70 to 5 gallons. Cost me outside of a little trouble 1 cent a bottle. Good profit and good stuff too. Well, next summer you can bet I’m in the game some place. Either lemo or root beer barrel or fountain. Just according to my finances.

With love to all as ever, your affectionate Dad.

My great-grandmother Mamie Harvey Detmers was born May 30, 1899 in Valton, Wisconsin, and died on August 24, 1944. She had five children in her short 45 years. My grandmother was 18 when her mother died, and says Mamie had some sort of cancer related to the female organs.

My great-grandfather Ernest A. Detmers was born Jan. 1, 1889 in Trinidad, Colorado, and died Sept. 21, 1947, only three years after his wife's early demise. My grandma says her dad was never the same after Mamie's death, and when he came down with pneumonia at 58, he fought going to the hospital. His family forced him into treatment, where he decided he'd just stop eating. He gave up because he didn't see a reason to live with his true love gone.

I'm happy they had 25 years, give or take, to spend together, and five children to show for it. It truly is a sad tale, however, as my grandma did not have her mother around when her own three sons were born.

At the age of 84, my grandmother still has fond memories of her parents and siblings, and I will continue to cherish the time I spend listening to her childhood tales while she's still here telling them.

I now need a new topic for my blog! Ideas are welcome.

My Soldier Husband

2010-04-10T15:55:00.001-07:00

Donal and Onah: two of Mamie and Ernest's future children.

Both of these letters weren't dated, and somehow they were out of order in my notes. The first one is after Mamie leaves Clarence, but before she and Ernest get married. She is begging him to marry her now. Begging. He sure needs a woman to sew buttons for him. (I would think that would be at the bottom of the list of reasons why she wants to marry him right now!) She mentions they've been in love for eight months. Is that all?

The second letter is from Ernest when Mamie is still with Clarence.

Mon. Eve. 9:00

My dearest hubby chum!

Oh, I am so happy dear! All on account of you and your love for me! My sweetheart! It was so sweet to hear your voice tonight. All for me. Your sweet words thrilled me so deeply and believe me it makes me happy!

All I want now to complete my happiness is marriage, dear, to you. It seems as if I can’t wait until you are out of the service dear. I want you now. It would be so lovely to be your bride even tho we couldn’t have a honeymoon until after you are out. Maybe I am building air castles dear, but I love you so much and it seems now that I can’t live so far away from you. I just love to be where I can see you often and do things for you. Oh I think it would be wonderfully sweet dear. Just you and I alone. Dear, can’t we do it soon, please? I’d lots rather get married now than 5 or 6 months from now. Since we are so sure of our love and are mates, why should we keep writing indefinitely, dearie boy? Why not marry now and then let things go as they please. We will be so happy! We are as near ready as we will ever be, dearest. I am anyway. I can’t settle down to sew or anything else, I am so happy and dreamy. And if I was in my own little home and belonged to you, then I could settle down long enough to start house keeping for you. It’s great to really be in love dear isn’t it??!! Really dear. You need someone to sew buttons and take care of you in general. Right away too! And that someone is “wifey chum.”

Mable says we would be much happier if we married right away. But it’s all up to you dear!

Of course dear I am just telling you the way I would love to have things turn out, but I don’t wish to make you feel like you had to do it just to please me. You probably will have the responsibility of securing a place to live and license and preacher and witnesses, etc. Ha ha! And I want you to do things up and please you!

Dearest, I have wanted all the time to marry you while yet in the service. My Soldier Husband. See? But maybe it’s just a foolish little whim of mine. Dear, it might help you to get out quickly too. And we could have so much more time together, nights and all, instead of just a few hours once a week. We would enjoy it all so much, dear! Don’t you think so? Please, Ernest! I am so hungry for you! I wouldn’t be lonesome, dear. I would be busy and happy and so would you!

Gee, this sounds like a proposal. Ha! Ha! But it isn’t; it’s just from me to you. I just can’t bear to think of another long engagement.

We have loved each other for 8 months now, and can’t we complete things instead of waiting? I’ve grown tired of the long engagement, dear. Altho, I am willing to wait for you until you are ready. You are old enough and ought to know and understand things more than I, dear, and I shall always look to you for advice, etc. I have just tried, dearie, to express my wishes and it would make me so much more contented and happy to be your wife now instead of – I don’t know when. Don’t worry about the folks. It would soon be O.K. They really expect such to happen.

I’m so sleepy, dear, and so are you, so night dearest love and hubby darling. And lots of sweet kisses on your deary face and lips from mine. And please, dear, come over as soon as possible (Wednesday). Call me if you don’t come. I am always your own lil wifey chum.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX Mamie

March Field

Riverside, Calif.

Barracks 3

Dearest Mamie –

Well I …sent a gram to the PO Master a while back, but he never sent my mail. Instead, it was all sent to the hospital. He must have had a hunch as to how I felt. Came back last night, had to rustle a bunk in the dark and everything. Spent several days in LA and the rest of the time with my chum and his folks quietly holding my breath, flitting away a perfectly misspent furlough. Three weeks! His mother certainly is some princess to me.

I rather hated to come back to the field. Believe me – honey! Gee-dear. Your dearest of letters sure were full of everything, but happiness. O for the time in your sweet life when you may say, “I am so happy.” Please God.

So your dear Dad is on a high horse. I remember him saying he didn’t know a thing about my lineage, etc.

(Forgive me honey) I have to smile at him. Girlie, with me – if I loved a girl I wouldn’t care what her lineage was! Because I’m not a blind lover and darling, I can’t cease to love you!

And he wishes us all those things. Ha ha. Honey of mine, I don’t care what he wishes. Dear, I hope true love finds its way for your sake! No dear, if you marry him, I will not promise to write – because I will not! Because you must forget. I’ll manage to know how you are, etc. But I shall not write. Dear, as it now is, you are going through the awful acid test and may the result prove 100% pure. No matter what the world thinks, your folks think or I think, use your own sweet head – honey! Sing Birdie, sing! Reminds me when I was at friend chum’s. I spent part of my time teaching their beautiful Polly Parrot to talk.

It’s a wonder you and C. didn’t bump right smack dab into me in LA. Was around there somewhere at the time.

And … you think I wasn’t glad you didn’t get busted in the real bump you had. We were nearly smashed into coming out, rained and rained and there were flocks of machines coming in from the Berdu show.

Was just wondering – will you get this letter. A missive in a hostile camp…40 Redskins bit the dust.

Gee I wish I was out. Didn’t fly today. Too much wind! And – the time didn’t fly either.

Yes, how I’d love to hold you o so close and kiss you more tenderly and sweetly than ever. O girl! A thousand times – I’d love to. I sure was at the height of happiness that eve. And fell into the dark depths – on the wrong side. Pretty please, with sugar on it. Curses! … and please forgive me dear, dearest of all girls. Yes, I too could talk all night with sweet lil you!

But why torment and lacerate a hurt heart more. Coming through Ontario last eve, I sure had to grit my teeth. Huh! Well I better stop before the wire that I sewed my heart up with bursts. Valentine’s – certainly was a dickens of a reminder. And my chum’s little nephew insisted I draw him some Valentine’s to give to his friends. When I finished them, he wanted to keep them. Ha ha. It’s late once more and a big long lonesome night for yours truly.

Hope you are well…Night dearest darling, and I hope you sleep like a log. Hope dreams aren’t always pleasant. You can’t trust them. So I wish you no dreams. XXXX

For ever and ever. E.D.

This is an awful bumpy letter, but my heart goes bumpy bumpy, so what can you expect?

By gollie, I haven’t any but a Y.A. envelope, and if you don’t get this then it’s fate.

I wish I was in H. with my neck broke too.

Yes I’d like to see Mable and if I can, I will.

'We want to die together, and love will do that for us.'

2010-03-29T11:40:00.000-07:00

(Photo: My great-grandfather Ernest Detmers)

Five years later, Ernest must spend time away from his wife. I'm not sure why she's back in Southern California, while he stays in Exeter. Maybe she's just visiting her relatives for a short time.

Ernest misses Mamie as much as when she was still with Clarence. It also appears she's having trouble conceiving. At this point, they have already had at least one child.

The line that strikes me most: "When we do die, we want to die together and love will do that for us."

This comment is meaningful when you know how the two sweethearts met with their respective deaths much too early. I will explain soon.

Exeter, Calif.
June 28, 1925

Dearest Lil Sugar Plum –

Thought I’d better write or you might think I was sick. But I’m not sick. Wish I could do something while you’re away and surprise you, but honey it sure takes the money and time. If it wasn’t for coming down again, I might have about 50 cents extra to spend for paint to paint the house inside and out, and the garage and chicken coop. Was up town with the intent of buying a pair of light pants, whip cords or something, but saw the oil on the rear wheels, so I guess I’ll have a new rear axle put in Lizzie instead. Was going to write to you the other night, honey bunch. My thoughts were rather dormant though from fatigue in the shoppe. Didn’t wish to worry your delicate organism with a carload of mush without no sugar on it. Believe me you.

I went to the dam yesterday. Sunday and Earl, Mary and the Hustons were there. Went in for awhile. Sure refreshing. Wish you could have been there. Mary sure did have fun with some of the other tots with a tied boat.

I’d like to come down the 4th, but I doubt I will have the money, and it’s still pretty hot here. Guess I’ll write back not to come, as one has to come through several spots that are about a million times hotter to get here.

Well, sweetie, I have to go to town and (?) that piece that has the set screw on the plunger rod fixed. The threads in it are stripped. So bye, and I’ll continue this letter in the next... Hope you had a good time in the hills. Yes, the folks sure have a time in their place. If Pa could just get well, they ought to get rid of the home place and just keep the (?) and the corner place and put it to bulbs and walnut nursery or something.

Bye dearest and dearie. XXXXX
As ever, your darn fool hubby,
Ernest

(Envelope addressed to Mamie A. Detmers, care of H.J. Harvey, RI Ontario, Calif.)

Exeter, Calif.
June 30, ‘25

Dearest Sweetie of mine –

So you are having lots of company. Shouldn’t think you’d be lonesome. Yes you ought to send for Mattie. Tell him about it. That would give you a good excuse to have me come down for you so they wouldn’t be so crowded. I could leave here Sun. eve. I don’t want to come as though I wasn’t sent for. Might make them feel bad. But if you think you’d better stay and help with the cats, let me know. But use diplomacy, see kiddie, don’t have a fuss.

Sr. Mabel gave the 5 back well she had a visit with you, and she also knows we aren’t stingy. I wrote Fred to phone Hank not to come. It isn’t worth the trip just for a day.

Well I don’t know much of news. Wish you were here tonight. I’d sure love to chew your ears, you darn lil piece of mutt you. XXXX

Don’t worry about your condition, kiddie. There will be other families, but not as pretty before the game is over. And if we take our medicine gamely and lovingly enough, we will escape the ravages of age that many a childless couple suffer. Let’s just surprise them all honey. You do your part and I’ll do mine. We’ll surely have enuf family for a dishwasher then. Get it on time, ha ha. I saw a couple, Frazer Milligan and his wife, in the restaurant tonight. I used to think she sure was pretty a few years ago, but now she is gray as a bat, wears glasses and they say is crabby as the dickens. They have no kids.

I guess I’ll send for some pep tablets and give Earl a few for Mary. And I’ll bet she slips it over on him for another one or so. Honey, if you can just cultivate that secret of love life, we can fool them all and I know it. Please honey! When we do die, we want to die together and love will do that for us.

Well dearie, it’s time to go to bed, so quit your reading and come on. Too bad about the quake, huh?

Wish I could write a carload like you can. Tonight xxxx wifey of mine. As ever your dear friend Ernest A. Detmers.

125 S. 1st st, Exeter, Calif.

Have been trying to find the Sears Roebuck catalogue. Wanted to send for some perfume, but couldn’t find it.

Thanks for my shirt honey.

A Year-and-a-Half Later

2010-03-25T11:20:00.001-07:00

Here's another letter from Mabel in the fall of 1920. What I find most important about this gossipy letter is that Mabel is pregnant, and Mamie has already had her first child, my grandma's sister Onah.

My great-grandparents had five children together: Onah Mable Detmers, Doris Marie Detmers Valterga, Donal Maynard Detmers, Jack Bayer Detmers, and Zella Patricia Detmers Drysdale (my grandma).

When my grandma talks about her childhood with four siblings, I envision Our Gang. These little rascals got into plenty of trouble, sometimes at the expense of poor Onah. Children can be cruel without realizing just how cruel they are. Onah was in a wheelchair. The stories that stick out in my mind about her are when her siblings left her in a neighbor's yard with a pile of oranges from the neighbor's tree sitting in her lap, as if she'd picked them; worse, my grandma said they used to put her wheelchair on train tracks and tease her that they were going to leave her there. They didn't, of course, but the trauma must have been overwhelming for that little girl.

The story I like much better is the one in which Mamie took her children out of school to go to the beach. Apparently this happened on multiple occasions. They wouldn't tell their father, Ernest, keeping their hooky playing a secret.

My grandma always says, "My mom was so much fun." Surprisingly, she says Ernest was a strict father. You'd never know it from these letters.

Los Angeles, Calif.

Sept. 22, 1920

My Dear Mamie:

I received your letter some time ago and also received the jar of figs in just fine shape. Thanks ever so much. They surely do look nice. I’m going to save them until later on.

We have been having real summer weather again for 2 or 3 days. Today however it is cloudy and cool again. Sunday we went for a little ride and it was so hot we didn’t enjoy anything.

Well I’m looking anxiously forward to the time when you folks are coming down. Be sure and come to see us. We haven’t an extra bed here, but the landlady has a little room upstairs all furnished nicely and she hasn’t rented it all summer so if it isn’t rented then, which isn’t likely, I’ll want you to stay at least one night and as long as you can.

I have been sewing a little here lately. Have a pink bluebird crepe night gown almost finished.

I suppose you saw that Vernice Kistner died. It was very, very sad. They phoned and wanted me so bad that I went out and sang for the funeral. She was operated on for ingrown goitre at the Pomona Hospital on Thursday, but she was too weak before they had it done, so died on Monday, Labor Day. She was in the same condition as Judge Pollock and you know he had an awful hard sight to live at all. The family seemed to think so much of Vernice and Glyda, just that Vernice was the only one. Glyda wrote me since and she said it just couldn’t be true, that she wake up and find it wasn’t true. We can’t always understand and know what’s best.

You know Warren Wass? Such a funny looking fellow. He married Marie Podrasnik. She sure has terrible looks too, but she has the money. Seems a rather funny match.

Well I guess I’ll have to tell you the news at our house. I haven’t told anyone but the relatives. I’m preparing a little baby layette at my house for a little angel that’s coming early next April. We’re as happy as can be now.

Right at first I didn’t want it, for I had such a bright opportunity this fall in music here, but I decided we never could be quite ready so now was the time. I’ve been real well. Have been some sick in the mornings but not as bad I guess to what some women are. I am taking general osteopathic treatment twice a week for a woman doctor here and I feel I’ll just get along fine. She says these treatments will help me a great deal at the last. I’ve always heard these treatments were good. Sarah advised it oh! so much. She said she had so much easier time.

I haven’t many things made yet but have plenty on hand to do. Aunt Nell and Leona both said they had some second-hand things I could have. Both their babies have outgrown a number of things already. Because they’ve been worn some and washed doesn’t hurt them one bit.

I went down town yesterday and Mrs. Stewart phoned. She wanted me so badly to come down and they got me a lovely big coat to wear this winter and also some blue silk for a dress. They got Leona the same things – coat and dress. But I never thought of them getting anything for me. My coat is a soft mixture material of dark blue and gray and is very pretty.

Mother came in a week ago yesterday and canned some prunes for me and made butter too and a few pickles. I sure did appreciate it too.

I saw Pearl Paxson in L.A. last Friday. She doesn’t look like the same girl. Her skin is so clear and her eyes so bright, and she’s very much thinner. She had an operation, you know, for female trouble. I don’t know if they removed the uterus or not, but Pearl said the Dr. said it was infantile uterus. It had never grown. Then the appendix was very much affected. She’s had two attacks of appendicitis you know some time ago. Then there was about four inches of her intestine that was decayed and poisoned. The Dr. said she couldn’t have lived very long with that. The poison was going all through her system. She says she never had a headache since the operation and before that, she wasn’t free from one for five years. She says she feels like she’s walking on air, she feels so well.

You probably know Gordon has a baby boy. They call it Gordon Donald. I sure don’t like the idea of calling the baby exactly after the parents. Use it for a middle name is all right, but not full name like that.

I suppose you haven’t taken any pictures of the baby yet. I’m so anxious to have one to look at once in a while.

Harold is well and busy. He hopes to sell out that business any day now. My! I’ll sure be glad when he does.

There are a bunch of men down there that aren’t worth a snap of your little finger and haven’t any honor about them. Harold has just been lucky not to lose all he had in that place. When he gets out he doesn’t know what he’ll do, but I hope, at least, he can get into something a little more decent and decent people to work for. We hope to buy a house when he sells and we get a little money. This place is so small. We haven’t a place to put anything.

Well, I’ll close. I’ve written two big fat letters lately, so I hope I’ll hear soon.

Your ever lovingly,

Mabel

A kiss for baby Onah and yourself one too. My best to Ernest.

To Mr. and Mrs. Detmers, Love Grace and Mabel

2010-03-23T15:03:00.000-07:00

(Exeter, CA - Between Fresno and Bakersfield - the newlyweds' new home)

Remember Grace? She isn't mad at Ernest anymore. She sends her well wishes:

Somewhere in MO.
March 25, 1919

Dearest Mamie and Ernest:

Well I’m on my way to dear old California and you. Hope I can find you when I get there. If I stay in Riverside, maybe you can come room with me. Ha! Ha!

Well, when I get to California and settled, I will drop you a card so we can find each other. I never answered your [letter], for I thought I would see you soon.

Oh, I sure was tickled when I heard Earnest had won, for he sure loved you Mamie. I was so glad I sent a letter to G. Couldn’t wait till I arrived home to tell him.

Wish I was married and settled, but can’t be [done] now. It is 5:35 PM now. I arrive in K.C. 12:40 tonight. I start some time tomorrow and arrive in Calif. Friday or Saturday. Then I will round you up.

Love and best wishes, ever and always your sincere friend, Grace

You can look for a card or letter in about a week’s time.

By May, Ernest and Mamie are married and settled into their new home together. According to Mabel, marriage is in the air! It amazing how one can go from barely engaged to married in a matter of a few months:

817 W. 40th Place
Los Angeles, Calif.

May 12, 1919

(Envelope addressed to Mrs. Ernest A. Detmers, Exeter, Calif. #492)

My dearest Mamie:

I must answer your letter today or you’ll think I’m never going to write. I haven’t been feeling very well here lately, so haven’t written to anyone, only Harold and not to him as often as I should.

I’m so glad you’re so happy and like your new place so well. I knew you would. You two could have a good time anyway. We kids went down to Venice last week and we thought of the time we went with you kids. Gee! We sure did have a good time. I always enjoyed being with you and Ernest anyway.

Harold is in the 3rd army Corps, the army of occupation and has moved to Cobleng (Germany) on the Rhine. He says he would be home for 6 mos. at the least and possibly longer. I do so wish he could come home and we could have a home of our own. Sometimes I think I can’t stand it here any longer but then I have too. I am trying to see what I can do to get him home, but it seems I can’t do anything unless I’m sick.

I surely need him if anyone was ever needed. If I wasn’t married, it would be different, but I’m not independent now.

I have my new red taffeta dress done and wore it yesterday to San Bernadino. It surely is pretty.

I saw Sam Collins, Gene Nesbit and John Collins – they look about the same, only Sam is fatter and looks older. Gene looks the same as ever.

I guess Sam and Marjorie Reynolds will be married soon – that is – if she can really settle down! Oh! My!!!!

That old hen that owned our other flat that we had to move out of so quickly has her sign out “For Rent,” “Flat,” “Furnished.” I hope somebody goes in there and scratches her things all up. It sure made me sore when I saw the sign. She said she’d never rent it again. Oh Shucks! Such is life.

I must close now and get to work I guess. So write soon and tell me everything. My best to you both and all!

Yours Devotedly,
Mabel

I think your wedding announcements were the cutest thing. I’ve always forgotten to tell you so. XXX.

(Written on the side of the letter: Mable H. Stewart)

Finally...

2010-03-18T16:12:00.001-07:00

This one speaks for itself. The reference to a cow is a nice touch:

Feb. 29, 1919

Oh Ernest Darling! I have just told Clarence goodbye, and I am free again. It was hard, but he understood and told me to tell you that it was okay with him. He felt terribly bad, but said he’d be happy if I could, and I said I could, so it is all okay now. I had a talk with the folks this morning, and they said they would gladly give their consent – to you. Come dear and let’s be happy as we were that eve three weeks ago.

Come over Saturday night or Sunday early, if you can, and then I’ll know that you are really my husband.

I must try to get some sleep, as I have to milk the cow in the morn. Folks are gone ‘til Friday night.

Night dearest and loads of love.

Your “wifey chum,”

Mamie

Mabels 'Heart Aches'

2010-03-11T19:32:00.000-08:00

Here's a photo of my grandma's family at the end of the 20s/beginning of the 30s. My grandma is the little blond girl in the top row, fourth from the left. Mamie, her mom, is third from the left.

If Mamie would have married Clarence, this photo would look much different.

Below is an outsider's perspective: an outsider who is one of Mamie's closest friends. Girlfriends always know what's best for you and have enough perspective to see what's really going on. Mabel hasn't yet found out that Mamie has decided to be with Ernest after all, so this is her sad letter to Ernest about Mamie and Clarence.

Feb. 26, 1919

Dear Ernest:

I’m just going to drop you a line now to let you know that I’m coming to March Field the 28th this Friday night to give a program, and I sincerely hope that you’re in camp and that I’ll see you.

I’ve intended writing to you for some time, but I’m so busy right now. Ernest, Mamie wrote to me and told me some, but not all. I can’t understand, Ernest, why things turned out as they did. I’m only praying Mamie won’t marry Clarence right away, and if she doesn’t, I’m quite sure she never will.

Ernest, Mamie loves you more than Clarence or anyone else in the world, and it’s awful wrong to marry someone else. Ernest, let me tell you that you have my deepest sympathy, and my heart aches for you, for I know what a heartache real love can cause. It’s indescribable. Ernest, just hope, pray and trust God, and I believe things will come out all right even yet.

I haven’t time to write anymore, Ernest, but do take courage. My heartache can never be remedied. At least I can see no possible remedy now, as I knew not the real love until it was too late. Oh! I don’t want Mamie to suffer the heartache I have. I know she still longs for you, and she said in her last letter she did so want to see you that she was in LA and looked for you all the time, and even she said when she’s with Clarence, she’s thinking of you, and it’s different when she’s with you. Such cannot go on.

I hope you’re back to camp, and you’ll be at the YMCA Friday night. I’m to sing at the hospital first, and I’ll be at the YM about 6:30 or 6:45.

With sincerest regards and deepest sympathy,
Mabel

842 W. 40th Place
Los Angeles, Cal.

'I Love You More for Losing You Awhile.'

2010-03-06T09:59:00.000-08:00

Harvey Farm - 1918

Feb. 25, 1919

Gee, dearie, I looked for you over at Arcadia Saturday until I almost fainted, but I didn’t see you. Randall Duell (sp?) said he’d seen you, and was just going to speak to you when this fellow started giving orders about the balloon. He said you were helping put a balloon away. Oh if only I could have seen you, dear!

Clarence wasn’t with me. I went with the folks and met Bessie McC. and we bummed around all afternoon together. Most of the time, we were on the south side of grounds. She asked where you were. Jimmie said you hadn’t been in camp for about three weeks. I said, “I don’t know and I wish I did.” I can’t stand it much longer, dear. What a wonderful honeymoon we could have had if only – ! Well, it isn’t too late yet, is it dear? I’m afraid your furlough will end too quickly now. I don’t know where you are, dear. I forget your Los Angeles address, and you must not be in camp, or surely you would write to me. I can’t believe you have said goodbye for good, unless you despise me, and if you do, then I’ve made a big fool of myself. But I love you anyway, dear. Please dear. Write to me, and tell me the way you feel, and if you still love me. I am almost yours. Haha! I wish.

Honestly, I wish. I cannot be happy without you, dear. Never! Can you?

I feel better now, since I have told you all about everything. I feel that you surely will come back to me and I will try so hard to help you forget the past, and I will try so hard to make the future a happy one for you. And if you are happy, then I am too. See dear? Will you come, dear?

If you answer with a “yes,” I will tell you more about my plans, and then you will soon hold me close in a sweet, tender embrace. Oh! I can’t wait!

I’m ready any time. Gee! Some people will sure be surprised, believe me! Did we once say romance, boy dear?

I’m going to sleep tonight, and not cry, for I feel your answer, and I shall wear my (your) ring all night. I wore it to Arcadia in hopes of seeing you, but I didn’t, although your spirit was with me.

Goodnight dearest, and please write as soon as possible. I am always your own true “wifey chum.”

Night dear, and lots of kisses. Real ones too.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Oh, if only I could kiss your dear lips right now a million times and more.

Sweetheart mine!

Mamie

(Ernest’s address on the envelope: 3576 Lonfranco St., Los Angeles, CA)

Wednesday Eve

Feb. 26, 1919

Oh my darling Ernest!

How happy I was today when your sweet long looked for letter came. I could have eaten you up if you had been here! Oh! I am so glad you still love me and want me, dear. I feel sure now that in a short time, I can be happy, and what I want most is for you to be happy. I want “C” to be happy too, but of course, he won’t if I leave him. That is, for awhile anyway. I wish I could see you and talk to you again, dear. Maybe we can now. Won’t you call me up some time soon, dear, please! I want to hear you speak, even though it be over the telephone. I wish you could be here with me tomorrow night, dear, as the folks will be in Whittier until the next day – night perhaps, and Zella will be here alone.

I could sure enjoy life then, believe me! Living in your arms! Please God!

I am looking at the different little lights in my – your diamond. Blue-green-orange-red-yellow-white-purple and oh, they are so very pretty!

Oh, I’m sleepy! And sort of contented. This letter is very short, but I want to dream most of the time, and first thing I know, it’s late and no letter finished. I wish I could dream. I’d try my luck at it. That’s a dandy picture, but please draw one that isn’t so sad – next time, dearie. Ha! Ha!

When can you get another furlough? Ha! Ha!

The folks (or 40 Redskins) were gone today, all day, and I was alone – with you. “C” called up and said he had a tooth pulled and it is all ulcerated, and he can’t come over and everything. I haven’t seen him since Sunday night. We had a fight Sunday night, and I wouldn’t kiss him goodnight, and he went home at 9:00 o’clock.

Oh, I guess the best way is to get in the Dodge and run into the train.

There I go dreaming again. I’m going to bed and sleep again. So, ‘night dearest, and please take the wire out of your precious heart, and I will love the pieces together, and then it won’t ever break again, dearie.

I hope to see you soon, dear, to be really close to you again. “I love you more for losing you awhile.”

Night sweetheart hubby,

Your own “wifey chum,”

Mamie

XXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Mable will be glad, won’t she, dear, to know that we have “made up.”

Fickle Girl Not So Fickle Anymore

2010-02-25T12:09:00.001-08:00

The Harvey House, Valton, WI, 1918 (Mamie's birthplace)
Thank you to my distant cousin, Jeanne, who found my blog and sent me photos.

Ontario, California

Feb. 25, 1919

My own dearest love:

I hope you can ever forgive me for pestering you with my letters after I am supposed to forget you, but if your heart aches like mine, I’m afraid you’d want more than a letter.

Ernest, I am the unhappiest girl in the US. I ought to be the happiest, but never will I be happy until I am Mrs. Ernest A. Detmers. So there! Please don’t think me bold dear, will you? It is just because I love you better than my own soul, and I believe that. You still love me as much, even though you don’t write to me. Dear, if you do still love me enough to be my husband, for God’s sake, tell me! Because there is a chance now for me to go with you, if you still want me. Do you, dear? God knows how I need you! I can’t think of anything else since you’ve gone. I see you all the time, here, with me. I hear your voice always speaking tenderly to me. And I want it all forever! I am most unhappy with Clarence, and he knows it and he isn’t happy about it either. He said, “Mamie, I know you still love Ernest the best, and if you will say the word, I’ll give you up.”

That was Saturday night. I told him you had gone and probably would never come back. He said he was sure you would if I would tell you about it. So dear, I am telling you that here is the chance. We can live over, again, that wonderful Saturday night when I told you I would be yours!

He said that if I couldn’t be true to him six months, I wouldn’t be true to him a lifetime because I don’t love him enough. He said he would give me another chance to show my trust, and if I failed, he would never wish to see me again. We have postponed the wedding indefinitely. Perhaps a year or more. Thank goodness! We’ve had some hot old arguments here lately, and he claims all the time that he is altogether right. Of course, as usual, I am always wrong. I know I have made a fool of myself in most people’s minds, but the majority have a little sympathy. Mable, for instance, still sticks by you, dear, and always will, and so will I. Always!

The folks say lately that it’s absolutely up to me. Pa said he would give his consent to you now, if I felt that you were the one. And I know you are dear. With all my heart. I can always be true to you because I love you. And dear, I feel that I always have been true to you. I chose Clarence against my true feeling, but only out of a sort of duty to him. I wish now that I had stayed by my first choice. I have in my heart, dear. These three weeks have been agony for me, and they have seemed about 3,000 years.

My darling boy, has it been agony for you too dear? I would have spared you all the pain if I had only realized that my love was all for you. I was so upset and so near all in that I wasn’t capable of doing the task set before me dear, and since then, I have realized the mistake. Dear, I love you with all the life and soul and heart in my body, and I’m yours if you want me.

Mamie

Isn't it always the case that we realize how much we love someone when we understand on a gut level we may have lost him? In Mamie's case, it was a fun little game until Ernest suddenly went silent and had had enough of her back-and-forth nonsense. He made the right move. He backed off. Bravo, Ernest! You really do know how to get the girl after all. Make her sweat a tad. Take the driver's seat. Make her beg for you to come back. That's better than pining for her while she stares at two different diamond rings and acts as though she wants to keep both of them. How long will he make her wait?

Side note: I found out that Mabel is a close friend of Mamie's. I thought she might possible be family, but she's not. Later you'll read a letter Mabel sends to Ernest about Mamie choosing Clarence. It's a great way to get an outsider's perspective on the situation.

Your friend,
The Grammar Nazi

'Our Fair Castles Have Fallen'

2010-02-22T16:35:00.000-08:00

The above photo is of my great grandmother Mamie (sitting on the horse) with her family in Wisconsin (early 1900s.)

This letter is attached to the previous one in the same envelope, but it looks like a continuation of the last one with no date on it and no greeting, so I'm not quite sure when it was written. I do know it's in the same couple days because the next one later in February expresses a turn of events. This one, however, is focused on how much Mamie will miss Ernest, and how she still plans to marry Clarence, mainly from the pressures of her father. I'm still not sure why he wants her to marry Clarence instead of Ernest, but her parents are adamant, as you'll see.

Mamie seems to be resigning herself to her supposed future, and she's naive to believe her troubles will be over if she marries Clarence and moves out of her parents' house. If she thinks she'll forget about Ernest once the paperwork is signed, she's mistaken. It's the same if she marries Ernest. She can't just wash her hands of her feelings for Clarence, if they are indeed as strong as she says they are. Can she?

I find it very interesting what she says to Ernest about their future as pen pals (and maybe more from afar).

I keep thinking about how she referred to her relationship with Clarence since he came back from the war as more friendly than romantic. It makes me want to go back in time and knock down her door and scream, "Don't do it!"

Luckily for me (and Ernest, of course), she changes her mind. What causes her to do so? Maybe we'll find out at the end of February 1919, but first, enjoy this correspondence:

Feb. 8(?), 1919

There are a lot of hard things in this world, and we have to get used to them as we grow older! I feel about 20 years older now than I did a month or two ago. I only wish you could forget me and be happy again. I can see you now as you were last Saturday night. Oh! You were so happy dear, and so was I, but our fair castles have fallen down and crushed into the ground!

I hate to close things this way, for your sake dear. Clarence wants to give you a fair chance – but the folks absolutely shut down on having anyone else come to see me except “C”, and just because they would lie awake at night and worry. “C” is highly disgusted with them for making such rules, but what can we do? Pa said the other day that he would consent to no other marriage, only to Clarence, and that if I married you without his consent, we would wish we were in “hell with our backs broken.” He said he’d make trouble for us as long as he or we lived. Isn’t that a nice way to do? And yet he called Clarence a “son of a bitch” the other day. Not to his face, but to mine. He said he’d shoot the son of a bitch if he ever caught him at his old tricks. We can’t seem to make them believe that we have reformed. Oh it hurts me to have them say such mean things about men I love so dearly, and I don’t dare say a word. They would knock me flat if I did. I will be glad when I can have a home of my own and nobody to quarrel and fight with. It’s not far off. We probably won’t get married for a few months yet because he will not have much money to start in on yet.

How long does your furlough last, dear? Or did you go back to camp? I don’t know where to address your letter. Camp, I guess.

Ernest dear, will you promise me one thing? That you will write to me same as ever, only perhaps not so often. I shall cherish every word of the letter you write dear, and I shall always want to know all about your life and what and where you will be after you finish army life. Dear, will you promise me that? Please!

I will try to be part your wife anyway, dear, even though we will not be united in marriage. I shall always feel that I partly belong to you, and I shall always be interested in your affairs and welfare.

I shall keep all the pictures too, dear. I’ve got several framed and on the wall in my room, so you see, I have not tried to hide you from me. Well dearest, it’s getting late and I’ve got plenty to do tomorrow to get ready for that gang Sunday. I could talk to you all night if you were here, but it’s hard to write things I want to say.

I guess it is all said, I mean, my feelings are expressed in that song, “It’s Never Too Late to be Sorry.” And God knows I’m sorry for you, dear! It will be sweet memories of the past. Won’t it, dear? Our short, but beautiful romance! We were so happy, you and I, but now I feel like I could cry because I hate to lose you. I’m so used to you now.

I’ll say goodnight before I do break down dear. I’m trying to be brave for your sake, and if only you can forgive me, dear boy, it won’t be so hard then. Can you?

Your lost little wife, Mamie.
XXXXXXX
I can feel your sweet, tender, loving kisses now and forever! Oh! Oh! Oh!

'The Worm Has Turned'

2010-02-16T17:08:00.001-08:00

This past weekend, we celebrated my grandfather's 86th birthday. I asked him about Granny's parents (Mamie and Ernest), and he mentioned that Mamie and Clarence continued to see each other even after Granny was born in 1926. They'd go on picnics with their kids, without Ernest. I will always wonder if that arrangement was merely friendly, or if it was something else. My grandparents are suspicious. My grandfather said a few days ago, "She really was in love with both of them at the same time." That reality is no more evident than in the letters to Ernest below.

The thought has crossed my mind more than once, and more so now, that I almost didn't exist. Really. It was so close to never happening. It's a miracle that I am here writing this blog right now. My existence is, among other reasons, was at the whim of a young girl in love with two men. Imagine if she could have imagined the chain reaction of her decisions. Imagine if we could all foresee what our decisions would cause.

Up until now, I have been frustrated with Mamie's indecision, but these letters below actually made me angry. If I were Ernest, this is about when I would have given up, but I'm so glad he didn't because I would never have been here if he would have walked away like any other crushed man would have.

February 4, 1919

Dear boy, don’t get your furlough yet, please. “The worm has turned” and we will have to wait – indefinitely. Clarence wants another chance and says he can’t give me up. So dear, let’s wait for awhile. Pa won’t concede yet. I’m sorry, dear, as you are. I am up town now. “C” is down home helping Pa with the cesspool. I got your letter today and was sure glad. I hope “sis” is happy. Maybe you better not come tomorrow, dear. I’m crazy to see you, but wait till I let you know how things are coming out. I’ll try to be as happy as possible and same to you, dear. I hope to see you soon tho. Heard from Wallace and Mable too. Gee!

We’ll say bye bye now till later. I am yours.

Mamie

February 8, 1919

Thurs. Night 10:30 at Home

My Ernest Boy!

How you must be hating me, dear. If I could only see you, I could explain things and then pray that you would not despise me for what I have done. My heart aches for you heavy and I could go and die rather than to break your heart. But, the folks are behind all of it – telling “C” not to give up, etc., and of course he really didn’t want to give me up, but would have done it if I chose you after he had had another chance to win me back. Oh! I can’t write it all! I’ve got to see you some way! And the folks have forbidden me to see you again. Isn’t that unfair for you tho?!!! They are so mean now-a-days. They say sarcastic things all the time, and I go nearly crazy. Clarence is awfully good to me tho. He treats me like a queen and is so glad that I have given him a chance. He went to LA today and brought me a sweet little diamond ring. Not as large as yours tho, but his whole love is behind it anyway. He hasn’t much money now. Will have to go to work soon. Dear, I’m too slight to write anymore tonight, and I have lots to do tomorrow. I hope dearie that you are not too broken up that you would cease loving me because you know that it isn’t my fault and that I still love you as a husband. Even tho I shall probably have to go to Clarence after all. Oh! Oh! Oh! I will have to return your beautiful ring too, and oh, it will hurt me and you too. I want to visit you soon tho. Night dear and with lots of love, yours.

Mamie

My question is this: Why do Mamie's parents want her to choose Clarence and not Ernest? Why don't they see him as a viable mate for their daughter? At first I thought maybe it was money, but then she even says he's broke.

So many questions! She is feeling serious pressure from all sides, but why would she tell Ernest about Clarence getting her a ring and treating her like a queen? Unknowingly cruel little girl.

Now I'm really curious how she's going to turn things around and marry Ernest after all. The back-and-forth just never seems to end.

'Your Lil Wifey Chum'

2010-02-11T18:40:00.000-08:00

So Mamie told Clarence everything about Ernest, and yet, he was still coming to visit her. What's next? You guessed it: She's now calling Ernest her husband. Surely they didn't get married since the last letter three days ago. Let's see:

January 30, 1919

My own dearest husband:

Just a note tonight, as I am freezing to death now. I have been sewing tonight, making some very interesting things. Ha! Ha! But while I was sewing, I was also thinking very hard. I do lots of that lately, and it doesn’t get me any place either. Same old thoughts all the time. I am so anxious to see you Saturday. I can hardly wait. I know we will feel like never leaving each other again. I have longed for you all the time, even thought I have been with “C”. The folks accused of us of doing bad things last night and you know our promises and you know also that we wouldn’t break it. They got pretty sore about it. He stayed till 10:30 last night, and they thought it was 2:30 I guess. They still think we would do those things, but __!

I wish we weren’t going to have company Sunday. I want to be with you you you! All day! But I will have to help get dinner and entertain “the gang,” and “C” wants me to go to Pomona at night, and I don’t want to because his folks are going, and I’d lots rather be with you, dearest. We will be together Saturday afternoon and eve anyway, and we will have to make up for lost time. Oh! I want you so! I can just feel myself held close in your arms right now, and your sweetest of kisses!

Mable is home, but haven’t seen her. Agnes was here today awhile.

Bye-bye till Saturday. Come just as early as possible.

Your own Mamie.

January 31, 1919

Dearest Hubby of Mine:

When you get to Ontario Saturday call me up, and I’ll come up to meet you so we can go to LA through, and save all the time it would take for you to come way down here. Will you, dear? This is just a tiny note. I’m just getting up. Ha ha! And Zella is going to school. She is to mail this. I am fine dearest, and oh so happy, and thank you so much for calling me up last night. I always feel 100% better after I talk to you dear. You are so good to me! And I love you so much darling.

Well, bye-bye dear until I see you Saturday. We can get a fair start from here if we do that way dear. Can’t we, dear?

Bye bye sweetheart and all my love,

Your lil wifey chum.

Oh we will have a glorious time alone together, won’t we?

Okay, so it looks like Clarence gets weekdays and Ernest gets weekends. When will that stop? When she's officially married to Ernest? Soon, I hope. I want my great-grandparents to stop living in limbo and get on with it. Clarence's days are numbered. He better enjoy his time while he has it.

To Marry the 'Caveman,' or Not to Marry the 'Caveman'

2010-02-02T20:27:00.000-08:00

Ontario, California

January 27, 1919

At Home

My Own Ernest Boy:

I wish I could see you right now, but Clarence is coming tonight, so perhaps you wouldn’t enjoy yourself very much. I have so much to say, but I can’t write it dear. I want you to be sure and come over next Saturday afternoon and evening. I will say this much tonight dear. I have told all to Clarence. I told him I loved you and wanted you for my husband, and oh, it hurt him, but he was so nice to me, and he said he knew he hadn’t treated me like a gentleman should treat “a little lady” and was awfully sorry, but he had realized that his love for me was the very deepest, only after he had left me. He said if it hadn’t been for me, he would have stayed in France in the Secret Service, but his longing for me made him come home, expecting to make a happy home for me.

He called himself a “caveman” because he had been rude to me, and also said that if I decided to marry him, he knew he could make me happy and would give me the deepest love in the world, but he said he would willingly give me up to you if I loved you the best, and would try to forget, but he would never cease loving me and would never marry. But he said his sole thought was to see me happy. I told him I could marry him and do all in my power to make him a happy home, but I could never forget Ernest. And I said I can marry Ernest and never forget him. He told me that it was all up to me, and he wanted to do the right thing. Oh, he is so good and unselfish, just like you!

Now what shall I do? I want to see you Saturday and talk things only with you dear. I love you oh so dearly, and I hate to lose you, and I want to do right by “C” now that he has been so true to me. He promises never to “touch” me until married, and believe me, that’s a whole lot for him to say when he is so “strong.” He had resolved that soon after we parted six months ago, and I know he will stand by his promise.

Now my dear boy heart of mine, don’t feel blue and sad dear. I want you to be happy because remember, I haven’t said I would choose Clarence yet, and I love you better than anyone else in the world. So have good cheer and think about next Saturday night.

I’m feeling a little better tonight. My throat is awful sore and swelled and mighty uncomfortable, but it will soon be OK. Thanks dear for calling me up, and I wish I could talk more like I want to, to you over the phone, but there are so many “ears.”

Mable is well and will be home Wednesday. Agnes is home and called me up tonight. I am anxious to talk to Mable. And you! “C” hasn’t come yet, and it’s 8:00. Never arrive on time. Ha ha! But he always makes up for it.

Well dearie, I’ll kiss you goodnight and with my sweetest love. I am yours. Come Saturday. Your own Mamie.

Clarence Comes Home

2010-01-28T14:30:00.000-08:00

Photo: My great-grandfather and his plane.

January 24, 1919

My darling Ernest:

Yes, he came today noon. And he knows something is wrong and begs me to tell him, but I wish to wait a few days until he is sort of settled. But it has spoiled his homecoming, as he noticed it right away. I was in bed and he called up, and I talked to him after Zella had, and I told him I’d send Pa after him. But I dressed and went myself and found him at Candy Land and he came and got in and said “Hello!” and flung a kiss at me and off we started. Neither of us talked all the way down, only a few words, how he came when discharged, etc. Well, there was no more love in our talk or actions than two sticks. I was really hurt because he didn’t take me in his arms and love me a little bit. Ha ha!

I haven’t told you all that makes me sick, dear, for the sake of our not being too familiar yet, but you can guess what it is. My regular sickness you know. Well “C” guessed it right away and asked when I would be well again because he wanted me – you know.

I said, “What if I refuse, Clarence?”
He said, “I will anyway.”

But he wouldn’t do that I’m sure. Because I shall say no! I shall be clean for you! You don’t want a dirty wife, do you? And please dear, every time you write, please ask me to keep clean. It will help me much! Oh so much! To have you back me up.

He hasn’t said a word about getting married or loving me not, and believe me, I haven’t either. He is going to work next week in the Riverside Cannery as a boss. So maybe you’ll see him. Ha! ha! Gee! If I live in Riverside with you, I’ll still be near him. I’ll go to work in the cannery. Ha! Ha! Poor fellow. I’d like to be able to comfort him afterward. But it is all so much easier for me this way.

We went down home, and the folks greeted him heartily and he was very happy, etc. I was awfully sad to see him, but it’s all wrong. So then I took him home and his folks were beside themselves with glee, and we went to town and back and I stayed for supper and Mrs. L said I was getting the flu, and for me to go home to bed and stay there, but she insisted on my staying for supper. So I did.

Before supper “C” asked me what had happened to me to make me feel sad, and I said I couldn’t tell him now, and I would have to tell him later, but I couldn’t right now. So he said he’d try to be happy for my sake, but he was very anxious to know my troubles and to help me if he could. Can he, dear Ernest? Yes, by giving me up!

So he kissed me goodnight (not a long sweet kiss like yours, dear, just a short one – no feeling in it), and oh how I longed for you! I wanted your arms around me and your lips oh so tenderly in a long sweet embrace full of pure love. Dear!!!

I do care a great deal for him yet, and it’s mighty good to have him here again. We act like just old friends more than sweethearts. He sure looks grand with all his trimmings and little cap, and he sure is a handsome fellow too. He weighs 192 pounds, gained seven pounds since he left France. Brought several souvenirs [?] hats, bullets, etc.

But my true love lies buried away in an aviator’s heart in Riverside.

We saw Bess today. She gave me a wink when “C” wasn’t looking, shook her head, and I did also and gritted my teeth. She guesses about the whole affair. Just so no one spills the beans before I do. His momma and he will go to an all-day meeting tomorrow, so I will be alone ‘til night. Oh if only I could spend the day with you! Oh my Ernest love!

Thurs. Eve. – at home
My own dear Ernest, just a note tonight to let you know I am not well. I sure feel rotten tonight. Worry I guess. I have been half crazy since you left. I am sick physically as well as mentally. My stomach is all out of order, and my head aches so, and my throat is getting so sore and swelled, and I am just sick. I’m getting so I can’t eat, only just a tiny bit. I get so hungry I just tremble like I did last Sunday noon. It’s awful. And besides all that, I think and think and wander and worry. Sometimes I think I shall love to give you up, and then next, I’m being kidnapped by you, and then next I’m running away and you after me, and then next I am thinking, “How shall I tell ‘C’, so that he understands?” It’s all a muddle, and he is to come tomorrow. By Sunday at least, so I can see you Sunday dear. And Mabel’s quarantined with the flu, and you and I shall be lonely for each other, and I will go nearly wild and I’m afraid of “C.” ‘nough said.

I sewed all day – got all my curtains done. Sure look swell. Little white ones and real old and gray for over drapes. Wish you were here to enjoy it with me. Well, you call me up Saturday night about 9:30, or Sunday night dear. I want to hear your voice. Next week is so long. Yes, get a 30-day pass and we’ll fly.

Your own Mamie.

Dear readers, on the one hand, I feel sorry for Clarence. He returns home from war and is unknowingly about to lose his girl (such a typical tale). On the other hand, if she decides not to sleep with him after her "regular sickness" passes, he won't take no for an answer? There is more than a hint of a-hole there.

The way she describes it (and in more detail than Ernest really needs to know, I might add), they are more friends than lovers now, and her heart is unquestionably with Ernest. We are more sure of this than ever. So why does she insist on throwing jabs at Ernest about Clarence still? Threatening to work at the cannery, albeit in a joking manner, is mean. She never ceases to be a tease who undoubtedly hurts poor Ernest by telling him she was disappointed Clarence didn't show her more love when he got home. It seems more that she wants the attention than she actually wants Clarence.

Despite the excessive detail that can only make Ernest shudder, it's interesting to note that she is able to tell him anything. Not having to hide her life and emotions is a good sign their relationship will last after Clarence is let down. She dreads having to tell Clarence; who wouldn't? Hurting someone is almost as painful as being hurt - almost.

I laughed at her description of Clarence kissing her: He kissed me, but it meant nothing and wasn't passionate, not like when I kiss you. Clarifying isn't going to make Ernest less jealous. That she brought it up in the first place makes me continue to think she wants him to be jealous. You already told him you are going to marry him, Mamie. You can cease the game-playing!

Another sign of the times: Having sex with one man, a man you were supposedly going to marry, would make her a "dirty wife." Ernest, you better keep telling her to stay away from Clarence because if you don't help her, she might succumb to her desires, or so she says.

Take her flying and tell her to stop messing with your head! And Mamie, just get it over with and tell clueless Clarence what's up.

Love,

The Grammar Nazi

Clipped Wings, for Now

2010-01-19T17:30:00.001-08:00

(Image result for "blonde kewpie")

Newly engaged, Ernest shares an army story with his love:

January 13, 1919

Aero Squadron A. Barracks 3
March Field
Riverside, Calif.

At home (heck of a home) Ha ha.

Once more and lonesome so – little blonde kewpie of mine. By gollie I’ve been sitting here a half hour trying to concentrate, but it’s Monday eve of the 13^th and I have that on the brain already.

YA mav. (?) just announced there was to be music immediately by the Mission Inn. Burgers and players. Of course I wish like the dickens you dearest were with me. Geeeeeeeee. Hope you are feeling Jake, honey. And I surely appreciate your coming up to the (?) with me. O girl girl that was sweet of you. We were about 25 minutes behind time when we arrived at Riverside, but I sure was glad we were because I was with you that 25 minutes. There were two last busloads of us and we had quite a joy ride. Ours started out last and arrived first. Passed each other six or seven times, and of all the noise. The last time we passed them, the driver just pushed on the steering wheel so excitedly, we sure laughed.

The fellows are having a bit of diversion out of the stunts the rookie guards pull off. Yes there is a sqdrn 311^th, mostly privates recruited from this vicinity, and they do funny stuff sometimes. One shot a hole in the YA building last night. Didn’t know how to operate his rifle. There is one stationed on the tower with a revolver, and a fellow had loaned him his gloves; he wanted them, so he yelled up for him to throw them down. Said "rookie." Thought he said "gun," so he tossed his gun down. Such is life with army. Ya don’t know what is gonna happen next – even here. Some of us fellows took our exams just before the holidays. I suppose they will give us our promotions and expect us to stay.

But honey, sweet darling of mine. I have just the biggest longing in my heart to fight in civilian life with you, or rather for you – ha ha. Boy boy I’d sure love to slip up to your window some moonlit night.

Forgive me, but I would. I would. When a fellow is desperately in love with a girl, he wants to do things he shouldn’t. Yet, darn it honey, but my wings feel awfully clipped right now and goodness knows yours do too. Lots and houses of things can happen in a few weeks, so here’s hoping they will!

And darling, if I can help you in any way, say so, even were it against me. Anything to help you. You dear.

It’s late again, so again, dear heart, I bid you a lover’s goodnight.

Tell Zella hello, but don’t tell her but she is some chaperone. Will write again soon and girlie please, please speak your sweet heart out to me. Will you dear? When you write, it helps my own thoughts to extricate themselves from this piece of French ivory in which they are.

Three things:

1) How does one mistake "rookie" for "gun"? They sound nothing alike.
2) I think it's time I brought "feeling Jake" back into the lexicon. I will make it a point to use it in conversation and see how many weird looks I get.
3) Is it necessary to "slip up" to a girl's window when you're engaged to her? My, how times have changed.

Finally, a note from Mamie, even if it is short and somewhat confusing. Does she want him to meet her Saturday or Sunday? Make up your mind!

January 17, 1919

My Ernest Boy –

‘scuse pencil but it is 8:30, and Zella is going to school, so I want to send just a note to my sweetheart.

Yes, dear, come Sunday. I’d say Saturday if I could have my way, but you’d better come Sunday morning. Come Saturday eve to town, and if I can, I’ll meet you there and then if down in time for dinner Sunday (?). Gee I was sure glad to talk to you last night, but as usual, I couldn’t say as much as I wanted to dear.

Has Jimmie come back yet? That’s queer. Well dearie, bye bye till Saturday. I’m going to paint my bedroom floor and wash today and Ma is sick in bed so – help!

Remember dear, I love you always.

Your own Mamie.

Unlike "feeling Jake," I have no desire to bring back the word "queer" as "odd." It just has too much negative connotation. I hereby gladly resign it.

I wonder when the lovebirds will get married. Did they have long engagements in 1919?

Next up: More from Mamie.

'Romance isn't dead yet.'

2010-01-11T16:13:00.000-08:00

December ?, 1919

Dearest Mamie:

I wonder – when may I see you again? Heavings!

Yes! Honey! But I want to see you. And tell you. Writing is the bunk.

Besides, my writing is all shaky tonight. What is gonna happen? I’m so happy with everything.

O how I wish you were here. Gee!

Mable is singing so beautifully (?) well words won’t express any feelings. She just looked at me and I winked. She is singing now. Only about three paces from here. And well, you know how she can sing. Gee girlie I believe I’m dreaming. Please may they come true. I may have to stop soon. As she is going pretty soon. So dearest dear girl, please forgive me for my very short letter to your long one. Please honey.

Hope things don’t go to swash as they did before. A few times like that and my heart will have burned to a crisp.

And gee, I sure sympathize with you dearest lil darling of mine!

Well, night and I’m gonna call you up and out of bed when Mable has gone.

Oh yes, I received your letter this eve!

Well, I wanted to come, but for your sake, I wouldn’t, as your folks would have found it out and woe to you.

Night x night x night x night x
Your own ED.

I have to compliment you again on ya chum. By gollie. ED.

Ernest is happy. Ernest is shaking. Ernest is scared Mamie might change her mind. Oh how I wish we could read what she said to him! Could it be she has decided to let Clarence go? He says he sympathizes with her, so maybe she has decided to call off her engagement to Clarence and had a hard time doing so. In any case, it looks like Ernest is starting to win that race. It also looks like whatever has happened is still a secret from her parents, and they wouldn't be happy with her decision. If indeed she has decided to just be with Ernest once and for all, what a great way to commemorate such an occasion but with beautiful singing from Mamie's "chum," which I do believe is her sister.

Aero Sqdrn. A Barracks 3
December 17, 1918
March Field
Riverside, Cal.

Dearest little darling of mine:

Received yours the most lovingest letter this noon. O boy! But I was glad, glad to hear from my dearest fiancé again.

‘scuse pencil, am fireman for this section of the barracks for a couple of hours tonight. It’s my turn to shovel coal. Ha ha. Was rather scared for awhile today. We were settling the question of who is to stay here during the holidays. 75 men have to stay. Two men for each hangar (two troubleshooters, guards, fatigue men, etc.) Well one troubleshooter has been sick and away and just came back so he volunteered. And the other got a short straw. We are off from Sat. about noon till 11:00 PM Jan. 2nd. Gee! Yes, a fella kind of hates for a moment to break away from a place where one has been for awhile. And as much as Bertha wants to leave, I’ll bet she stays and stays. Gets in the rut.

Well, Bunny, I wisht your sweet self were here with me. O girl! O girl! But you aren’t. So I guess the rest of the week will just have to d-drag along. It’s getting late again so I’ll shut my eyes for a few hours and forget time. So goodnight. X.

Your own loving ED.

Oh Mamie, every time I write you I think, if I could only write like she does. I always was so bunk at writing. ‘nothing wish. Ha ha. Anyway, I just love you, love you, love you.

ED.

(On the outside of the envelope, it says “Romance isn’t dead yet.”)

Did you hear that? FIANCE! What an abrupt shift: Mamie went from Clarence's fiance to Ernest's fiance in a matter of days. Now that he doesn't have to worry about their relationship status, he proceeds to give details about shoveling coal and the vacation status of his mates. Before, he was pining over her as someone else's girl. Now he is free to say, "I just love you, love you, love you." I wonder if the constant gushing will continue, or if he'll be more at ease and subsequently less mushy. In any case, this is a happy day for him. When's the wedding, I wonder?

Your Loving Mutt

2010-01-07T13:50:00.000-08:00

For these two letters, I wrote them the way Ernest wrote them with few changes in grammar. Notice the antiquated use of 'th' in place of an 's.' He uses 'til' instead of 'until,' and 'wif' instead of 'with.' He puts a 't' in place of 'ed.'

In the first letter, he could either be talking about committing a masked crime, or forgetting to wear his gas mask, or something else. I'm not entirely sure. I'm leaning toward NOT crime because our gushy paramour just isn't the type. He seems to need to cover his face so as not to breathe whatever is in the air. Is this a test? And what is the fine for? The war is over, and he's in Riverside. Odd.

I wish I could ask him what Grace said to him when he ran into her unexpectedly! He skipped over the best part of that story, just to return to fawning over Mamie.

In the second letter, he has made a mistake and will no doubt try to make it up to her. Did he forget to call her or see her? That seems unlikely since he's constantly talking about that very thing. He also says he saw her yesterday, so maybe he said something out of turn about Clarence. We'll never know. But soon we will know who wins her heart once and for all.

Enjoy,

The Grammar Nazi

P.S. I hope "feeling Jake" is a euphemism for good health and not a new character introduction.

Aero Squadron A.
December 2, 1918, 8:30
March Field
Riverside, Calif.

Deardeardeardearest Mamie –

Was in town this evening and went for my cam. (?) and razor and incidentally was supposed to appear to pay a fine. I guess I was pinched last night. No mask. Ha ha! Lots of fun! Wish you were there. I sure wanted to sell me one. Told them I wath busted. Kidded them! They wanted me to come in this eve. I said I couldn’t. Then they wanted to lock me up. Honeth. Couldn’t find an M.P. They have to turn us over to them, so finally – It was getting late, just in time to make the field – they asked if I had a hanki to put on. Yea, a dirty one alright. When I got outside, I pulled the hank off and pulled out my mask and wore the old thing ‘til I got on the bus.

Oh girl! How I wisht that were you! Honey! that I bumped into at the feed house this evening. Sat down to a big feed and happened to look in the mirror and saw a face that looked like Grace, but I thought, “No, it couldn’t be and dismissed it.”

After awhile, she suddenly tapped me on the shoulder. Oh, if it could only have been sweet you.

We had a smash up in the field this morning. No one hurt. But one more fellow bumped off at the hospital – pneumonia. Otherwise things are as serene ath mud. Only, I ith awfully lonethum. Hope your guests have a heart and are not rushing you dear, and boy oh boy! Hope the folks were not and are not peeved yet.

And O darn it, no fooling, words can’t express how much I love dear sweet you.

Night! Dearest sweetheart, and I hope the world ith still going around 'til I can see my girl. You may be able to stop writing –

But I can’t.

Night night xxxx dearest.

ED

December 9, 1918

Dearest Sweetheart:

O boy. What an absent-minded mutt I ith. Pleath forgive. Guess I’ll call you up right away. Oooo girl how I miss you. Hope the bunch are not severe on you dear and that you are feeling Jake.

I muth get busy now. It’s 7:00 AM, and the birdies are just buzzing out on the line.
O girlie, I sure wouldn’t have missed being wif you yesterday for the world. Just to be wif you, even tho we had stayed home. Lots of love for you dearest.

Your loving mutt,
ED
Just sent the film away.

'May the Sun Shine Bright as the Dickens'

2009-12-29T14:31:00.000-08:00

(Photo: March Field, Riverside, CA)

Reading letters from 1918 is a bit like reading a much earlier form of English. Just like reading the Early Modern English of Shakespeare, or even more so, the Middle English of folks like Chaucer, I think the ever-changing language is slowly starting to see a shift from then and now. I can only imagine how the dialect will change by the next century.

After reading the below missives by our fair prince Ernest, one is left thinking, "Huh?" I am confused by much of what he says, except for the continued fawning. Part of it is because I don't know details about the events he speaks of, and part of it is just how he uses language. What I do understand, makes me smile; describing one's self as a "restless bird all aft" is so last century. And I just might have to steal the phrase "all a-jumble." Priceless. Where it gets fuzzy is when he says things like "pussy-footed son of a sea look." Okay, dude. Back up. Slow down. Translate for 2010, buddy. That's all I'm sayin'.

A few points stand out here, as you will see:

1) Mamie is either sick or hurt at the time.

2) Blatant racism in 1918 is tossed around like shiny pennies without a second thought. Ernest uses a word that made me suck in my breath, but he says it like it's an everyday word.

3) Ernest talks about getting letters from Mamie, and I don't have possession them. It finally dawned on me that many of the letters she mailed him somehow were either tossed or misplaced. It would be just like a guy not to keep them in a box like she did. Obviously most of the ones she kept would be from him. That only makes sense. Duh.

4) Ernest writes a letter in a plane!

Happy 2010 everyone. See you in the new year.

Love,

The Grammar Nazi

Barracks 3 also Squadron A

March Field

Riverside, Calif.

Nov. 13, 1918

Dearest sweet girl of mine:

Please dear, I’ve tried to write tonight but can’t write as I wish. Tore up letter after letter. It’s 11:45 now. It’s orders to be in bed, but am in the orderly room with the blinds down secretly burning midnight zzzs. And yet guess I’ll have to wait – a million years – till Sat. eve to see you dear. Didn’t get my mail this morn and believe me I was some restless bird all aft. Wondering wondering were you real sick and I know you weren’t happy. O girl of girls I so want you to be. Rec’d your dearest letter this evening. Honey, my thoughts and mind and heart and soul are all a-jumble. Have had several close calls and can crack a joke with death staring me in the face.

Yet tonight I don’t feel like joking. Earlier this eve several of the fellows tried to get me to let them see what I was or wasn’t writing. I told them to chase themselves.

One of them a kike showed me a letter he just got from a girlfriend.

It started out soft as the dickens and finally wanted to ask him a very intimate question. One she had lost sleep and everything over. Wanted the pussy-footed son of a sea look to lay down his friendship and tell her from the bottom of his heart would Jeff ever be as big as [?].

Gee I sure remember sitting there on the sofa with you dear and we saw him when he was. O girl! Girl! O gollie!

What’s that ditty about? If I were where I would be. Then I would be where I am not. But I am not where I want to be. So I must wait till I can be…or something. 1000 years like that.

It’s after 12:00 and I can hear all sorts of noises outside. Snores and snores.

Anyway dear, God bless you little lovely blonde heart, and may the sun shine bright as the dickens for you soon.

Night xx. Night, night and again. God bless you honey and keep you from getting hurt in this cruel world. Xxxxxxxxxx.

With a heart full of love dear, as ever your own.

Aero Sqdrn. A.

November 16, 1918

Riverside Calif.

Dearest Sweetheart:

Am scribbling this in the field. Will not have much time. Am studying to take exam for 1 cls. sergeant. It will be rather a severe one. May not pass, but was recommended, so here goes. Rec’d your dearest of letters yesterday.

Well, here come the ships …

P.S. am writing this bit 3000 ft up over Hemet. It looks so pretty. Couldn’t talk about it to the St. in the rear seat so this. Such a variety of color, autumn leaves, etc. and the clouds and their shadows, the Eucalyptus and the rugged hills and mountains surrounding the whole and grayback with snow on it in the background. We are circling now, all the ships chasing us, we are in the lead. Well, I’ll finish this on the [?] things are so at home. Gee I wish you could see it.

O girlie of mine, tomorrow is Sunday and I can’t see you – wanted to buy a pass but none of the fellows would part for love – or money. I sure feel awfully heart-hungry for you, you, u! Dear sweetheart! Gee but the coming week will seem ages long. And my little girl all crippled up. Dear I hope you are better when this gets there. Oh how I wish I could hold you close and kiss you o so lovingly and tenderly.

So Mable snubbed you. Are you ever so sure girlie? By gollie girls are funny. If a fellow, my chum were to do ditto, I’d just say lovingly hello, ya big stiff, whazza matter? Come on and kick thru. Why, please tell me why? Ah! Mamie, a fellah has gotta forgive lots of things in this world. Sure dear, it does hurt like the dickens – and it’s a queer predicament to get into. One is shocked and doesn’t know what to do. And at the moment forgetting, one’s power to hate is as great as one’s love was before. Huh! O I hope yet the way it happened it seems, well, funny. I hope you have made up. My sis and her chum used to get too thick and then they would get thin again. Then make up, etc.

Don’t honey. I’ll try not to spoil you, and I don’t think you’re spoiled. But I sure love to give sweet things to things sweet. Trouble is one can’t get real extra fine sweets at present. It’s all camouflaged. What was it on the margin of that letter? Wait till I see you dear and I will, again unless. Huh! – unless nothing.

I see they are going to let the fellows out of the army and maybe in quantity and bulk, etc. pretty soon. I don’t know yet what I’ll do. Whether I’d rather go or stay.

I would give a pretty penny to stroll around through the woodies with just you dear. Don’t tease me about making faces at you. Wish I could right now and sniff. There!

I wonder will I tear up this letter and everything and just write another and then tear it up, etc.

That one picture is my sister-in-law where I was Sunday. Well I must do some studying tonight. It seems so quiet in here right now. Most of the fellows are at the Y.A. We had our boisterous singing awhile ago.

Night darling girlie of mine and I just love you o so much!

X. Night.

That Town was 'Wild Ditto'

2009-12-21T16:33:00.000-08:00

I'd say Mamie is happy the war is over, wouldn't you?

November 12, 1918

Oh Earnest, isn’t this a wonderful day! Think of what it means for the world. I wish you could understand just how I feel today dear. But you can’t I guess. I want to shout and sing and yet I want to cry. I wish I could be with you today.

I got up at 2:00 last night and Zella and I went up town. Of all the noise and fun. There was a [?] a mile long formed in less than fifteen minutes and we were second to the head. Fire truck led. We went all over Ontario and Upland and shouted and sang and screamed and blew horns and pounded tin cans till I can hear it yet. It lasted till 5:30 and then we came home almost froze to death and hoarse! I couldn’t speak! I went to bed and got up at 9:30. Ha ha! Am cleaning and decorating the machine to be in a big parade at 2:30 today. I only wish you could be here with me. Wouldn’t it be great tho?

Well, I’ll see you – Sunday? And don’t forget that I am thinking of you today and loving you.

Bye bye dear & love, Mamie.

She also must remind Ernest she's thinking of him and wishes he were there. Looks like they are making plans to see each other again. She's still engaged to Clarence, but she doesn't want ED to go away just yet.

She gets what she wants. He can't bring himself to say goodbye:

November 13, 1918

At home

Aero Squadron A., Riverside, Cal.

Dearest Dear Girl:

I wrote you last night and wrote that I did not at the moment know would I mail it or not. I did not. Gee gee gee, that was an awfully dear letter you wrote, but it sure got me. It made me feel worse than the whirling chair.

I read three letters – one from you, one from an old chum and the other from my sister-in-law. Read theirs in a hurry and wanted to keep yours of all the letters till I had a bit of time alone. Sis said some day someone would address me thus Dear Ernest oof! Chum says that town was wild ditto, as Ontario. Methinks all the towns in the world went wild. It’s certainly great that that hell has burned itself out.

Then I read your loving letter and re-read it several times since. O dearest of girls, ya give a fella an awful thump. O God! O girl! O you, forgive me darn sweetest darling girl. I almost wish I had never seen you, and yet I wouldn’t take the world for having seen you. I am afraid I haven’t added much toward your happiness since I’ve known you dear. But I wanted so much too. Yes, we ought to be engaged. Wish we were. Gee I used to think lots of those lovely things, but I guess it’s ~~bye~~. ~~Goodbye~~ to the dearest most loving sweetheart an unworthy fellow ever knew. And those laughs and that hair that I was more crazy to have brush into my face (and nestle into) than you know. But ~~g-bye~~ and O sugar!

They informed us the other day that the quarantine was definitely on indefinitely and tighter than before. O Maim’! The more often I see you, the more it hurts me to leave. And were I ever to see you again, I would never let you go! Huh!!! But I want you to be happy to if you care for him so then ~~bye~~.

But if he ever mistreats you and I find out … I can’t help it. Wish I didn’t love you so much. But I cannot help it. C. has stopped smoking. Guess I’ll start in smoking and ____. Our memory is what we forget with if necessary to forget until I’m an old old Batch and reflect. How you used to thrill me in so many many ways. O Geee whiz. Forgive me, I do not blame you dear. You have added much to my life and have taken (heart shape) away. You couldn’t help it. Such is life and love. But gee it hurts.

About 60 of the bunch are leaving for Honolulu soon. No I’m not in it, but I wish I were.

O Mamie, I can’t say goodbye – xx to you. Guess I’ll just have to do something awful and be confined indefinitely. Gee it’s getting late so goodnight darling and __________.

I don't know about you, but I am kind of getting tired of the sappiness of his letters. I might barf if I hear one more "oh gee" or "darling girl." I just want to tell Mamie to sh*t or get off the pot. Marry Clarence and let poor Ernest go, or dump poor Clarence and make this lovesick, pathetic man happy. Let's get the show on the road, lady. What do ya say? Stop toying with these men. I know you like the attention, but it's not doing anyone any favors. Now that the war is over, what's next for these long-distance lovebirds?

Armistice

2009-12-10T10:07:00.000-08:00

A woman writes to Ernest about the end of the war:

Nov. 11, 1918

Dear Ernest:

I am still in bed but rejoicing over peace being declared and thought of you and am sending you these few lines to tell you so. Everyone in Exeter acts as though they were crazy. Closed everything up and just parading the streets in every way shape and form. And making all the noise they can. I don’t blame them if I was able to I would be among them and doing my bit. Can’t write very much but want to let you know I thought of you. Best wishes and hoping to see you before long. I remain as ever Your SST.

Mrs. E. Patten

Ernest writes to Mamie the day the war ends:

Nov. 11, 1918
Aero Squadron A., Riverside, Calif.

Dearest little girl of mine:

Rec’d your big little letter last week. Sure was glad to get it. Poor lil dear. Fellow sure feels helpless. Wants to do something and I can’t. Hope honey that you are alright again when this gets there and that it doesn’t take it long to arrive. Mail sure must go around some to get there.

That bit that you wrote on the margin seemed kind of funny. One of the words from the lines dropped it in two and I read the first part and then I saw. Ha ha. One half. Ha ha. Must be a dear sweet smile. Did you give the other half to Mabel?

We are still in quarantine but managed to get a pass and went to LA. And O boy I went on the stage Cadillac, and it was all I could do to stay on the stage office in Ontario to change. Hecktopinkus! Whatever that means – and everything. Visited one of my brothers for a while, rode around in their machine. Bummed around the rest of the time. Took a few pictures, etc. And now I’m back and the war is over and everything. Am awfully lonesome right now. A big bunch of fellows were to have gone to France and Honolulu from our squadron but they suspended it, as they did the draft.

Well I haven’t written anything. Did some washing and now it’s getting late again. Some of our things we can wash better than the laundry. Then have the post tailor presses them.

One of the fellows just made sergeant and he has [?] on his overcoat, coveralls and shirt. And they all kid him and say he has them on his underwear.

I just rec’d a letter and package from sis in Ohio, sent me some more socks. Gave several pairs to several fellows to wear at night. It’s been real cool here the last week. Frost every morning.

Well dear dear girl

I wonder wonder wonder wonder about so many things.

Hope darling that you will and can ½ ha ha yet – and not think I’m writing too often.

Honey if you do, I’ll just write anyhow.

And then tear up the letters. XX

I guess.

And when I just want to see you sooo, I’ll look at your sweet self in a picture and then say sugar oh sweetheart.

I want to say things but don’t know how. Wish I could write like you. Night and all the love in the world as ever. E.D. XX

Drown Your Sorrows in a Piece of Candy

2009-12-05T20:40:00.000-08:00

November 1918

Aero Squadron A.

So darling girlie –

Well I don’t know very much to scribble. Only that I miss you and O how I wish I were with you dearest, and I love you more than ever. The boys have been playing the pianola all evening, but it does no good. There is someone missing. You you you!

It seemed to take the stage an awful long time to get there Sat. evening – and then only a few moments and I had to leave. See I don’t think eternity would seem long at all…with little…dear little you.

Made another trip today dear to Hemet. O why wasn’t it Ontario and the only visitor we had was a young lady? A very modest one. Reminded me of the picture I have of you in overalls. She must have come half a mile but wouldn’t come up to the ships. About a hundred yards is as close as the dear would come. When we took off she waved and we circled and dove right down and waved.

Oh boy why wasn’t it Ontario – and different. It was pretty cold coming back and is pretty cold here. Now again I wish somebody was here and with cold that I could keep warm and lovely. Hope dearest that you get a good place at the Hot Point so your time will not be so miserably chopped up. And so full of unhappiness (what a very big word and how very much it means), huh! Was just going to the canteen a bit ago to drown my sorrows in a piece of candy when one of the fellows in my section sprung a box he just received. It’s g-gone now – (the candy is).

Mc. Jimmie (?) just asked, was I writing you? Said he rec’d a letter from mgnt (?). Hope it is lifted by then. On top of his four days of grace after quarantine, he is in charge of quarters Sat. evening. Poor boy – he said he was going to be away if he had to see the General. If he gets away with it, I’ll see the General too.

Dearest, that was just the most lovely treat to be with you darling and to leave so quickly just a wave and gone. O sugar! (but then – sugar is sweet, isn’t it?)

And Mamie. That is some chum you have. And please Mrs. Cod, don’t g-give Mamie the dickens the next morning.

Everyone is going to bed to keep warm, so goodnight deardeardeardearest girl! Hope you are well. Lots of love,

E.D.

And remember I wouldn’t take anything for a Hello from you.

Wait, they are going to bed because it's cold? They are in Riverside, CA. How cold could it possibly be?

Ah yes, the pianola. My grandmother has a player piano we kids used to torment the family with at every gathering. We'd pull scrolls out of long red boxes, slide the wood panels open in the front of the piano, hook the paper to the player and spend hours pedaling for dear life, while we watched the keys go up and down like the ghost of Beethoven was at the helm. The braille-like pages whizzed before our eyes, and we got such a kick out of it. I will always have a fondness for ragtime piano music because of this. I'm sure the songs we "played" were much like the ones Ernest refers to here.

That he has a photo of my great-grandmother in overalls makes me smile. I used to wear overalls all the time.

I want to know what Hot Point is. Sounds steamy.

He's going to a canteen to drown his sorrows in candy. Sorry, a piece of candy. Not whiskey, not gin. A piece of candy. So Adorable and innocent.

Here we finally hear something quite substantial from the lady in question, and it comes just one day before the end of the war:

Sunday night, 11:30

Nov. 10, 1918

Dear, did you have a good time today without me? I hope you didn’t get lonely. I did. We got all ready for that blamed company and they never came. We were pretty well disgusted. My brother and family were out tho. Dear Ernest boy. I haven’t the heart to write a decent letter to you tonight. Know why? I’m so miserable. My heart aches so and there is no cure for a long time. I can’t answer your sweet letter either. I want to talk to you instead. I’m tired and sleepy and it’s late too. I wish you didn’t love me so desperately and both ways because it will be so hard to say goodbye to each other when the time comes. I hope that time never comes tho. Oh Ernest! I’ve got to be true to Clarence! My love and life means the world to him he writes, and he is so happy and proud of his little sweetheart. (So true!) Oh Ernest! If he knew how I love you it would break up his whole life. And I can’t do that after being engaged for almost three years and almost as close at times as if we were married. I mean mental and spiritual and – never mind. I can’t say it now to you dear. But you can guess. He loves me that way, but if he knew that I loved someone else better than I did him he wouldn’t hold me a minute, but would tell me to go to the man I loved and be happy because that is what he wants me to be – happy. Oh he is so unselfish and good. I ought to be too.

Side note - Yes dear I could trust you to be good to the end of this world!

Another side note – 2:00 Monday morning – Oh Ernest! It’s come really and truly this time. Peace is declared!

He is coming … soon … not far away and we will be married. But there will be part of me that belongs to you and he can’t fill the empty space in my heart. I ought to be happy with him and I will try to be for the sake of being as brave as he.

I am afraid that the longer you and I know each other, the more we will love each other and I can’t bear to think of us parting. Can you? We ought to be engaged right now – the way we love, etc. But a girl can’t be engaged to two men at once can she, dear?

Clarence wrote me a beautiful letter and I received it Friday. It was a love letter right from his very soul and heart. And it made me feel like following him on my knees all the rest of my life.

I will admit that Clarence knows more about me than is right for him to know until we are married, but we have acquired a great and beautiful understanding thru any passionate love. I can’t write about it to you. You might misunderstand me and think me a bad girl. I am not, dear. I believe I could tell you all about it safely. But I can’t write it.

Don’t feel badly now. Maybe I’ll mark off this spell in a day or so and be willing to give myself all to you. I don’t know which love I love best - yours or “C’s.” They are so different yet so beautifully sweet. Good night dear and write soon, and I’ll see you soon and we can talk things over. I love you dearly, dear. Your Mamie.

It's no wonder he continues to pine for her when she's engaged to Clarence. She provides him with so much hope in this one piece of correspondence. She says it will be impossible to say goodbye, but she must because she is going to marry Clarence and be true to him. However, she then says she loves Ernest more than Clarence. Then she says she loves him differently. She's one confused woman. What does one do when she loves two people at the same time? No, really. What does she do?

It appears Clarence is overseas and will be home soon because the war is over. (Now I understand her request to Ernest to love her in his place.) I wonder if Ernest ever felt inadequate as a stay-at-home soldier, while Mamie's other love was actually fighting, if indeed that's what he was doing.

Mamie has shared three years of engagement with Clarence and he "knows" her more than he should. How is that supposed to make Ernest feel? Why is she so open about this with him? Is she trying to hurt his feelings or make him jealous? If so, it's working I'm sure.

The engaged one ends her letter with "your Mamie." The word "your" signifies belonging. One last way to hang onto to Ernest and not have him walk away just yet, not that he would. He's in this for the long haul, until she walks down the aisle with Clarence, whom she wants to follow for the rest of her life, or does she? The Queen of Mixed Signals has spoken and befuddled us all. What's next?

My head spins,

The Grammar Nazi

Love me until Clarence comes back

2009-11-28T16:50:00.000-08:00

We haven't heard from Mamie for awhile. She tends to write one letter for every two or three of Ernest's love notes. Either that or her letters are missing. Maybe they are tucked away in the jacket pocket of the clothes he's buried in. I wouldn't be surprised. He epitomizes lovesick. My heart bleeds for him because we've all been there: You are away from the one you love either because of distance or circumstance, and you think about that person every second of every day, and you ache because you can't be next to the object of your affection. It's a painful, yet obligatory experience. A rite of passage. Necessary torture. Typical.

The next letter is something I need to ask my grandma about: Who are the people being discussed? My guess is the writer, Sarah, is someone in Ernest's family, as are the others she mentions. I just don't know how they are related at this time. My favorite line comes toward the end of the letter. You'll know it when you see it. It makes me want to scream, "Too late!" It's a done deal. Ernest is in over his head.

Los Angeles, CA
October 18, 1918

Dear Ernest:

I wrote you a letter last week and failed to mail it. Isn’t that a fine thing to do?

Did you see Agnes? She hasn’t come home nor written so we don’t know anything about her trip. She went to Santa Ana Sunday, phoned Mama from there that she was going to stay a few days and we have not heard from her since.

Alex quit his job and came home Wednesday. He would like to get in the army as a flyer. He inquired about it and was told to report for physical examination Saturday. If he passes his examinations here, he will be sent to Berkeley. He also is thinking of going in the Signal Corp instead of waiting a long time for a commission in the aviation. He isn’t just settled in his mind what to do, but he’ll decide tomorrow.

Fred has been reinstated in his city job. He started work this AM at $125 a month.

We haven’t heard from your dad. He had a sore hand when he left here and that and the influenza epidemic has Fred worried about him.

Aren’t you ever going to give us a Sunday anymore? Please don’t fall in love with the other fellow’s girl!!!!

Dave is recovering from a very bad attack of influenza. He had a temperature of 104º for several days!

Come see us soon, won’t you?

Love,
Sarah

A $125 a month! Times have changed. Can you imagine surviving on that in Southern California now? That's slightly more than a third of my car payment.

Here's a juicy one from Ernest to that "other fellow's girl" around the same time:

Aero Sqdrn A.
October 1918
Riverside, Calif.

Dearest Darling of Mine…

Rec’d two of the loveliest letters from the dearest girl. There I won’t say any more or you won’t love me anymore. O girlie I just love you oodles anyhow, anyway and then some.

No, what you said wasn’t that I’ll tell you about it when, when I see you again dearest. They are talking of lifting the quarantine at the end of the week. But one can’t figure on anything in the army. But here’s hoping! I’d sure shout.

Dear, when you spoke of me loving you till Clarence came back, I didn’t understand you honey, either. I thought you meant we would have to part then forever and dearie, it just made me feel like saying I don’t know, and then some.

Yes! You did make me feel worse, since you are engaged and I love you sooo. I knew if I were to go allll the way and then lose you, O how awful awful punk I’d feel afterward. But dearest! I just want to see you now and just go all the way. Sure was glad to hear from you and that you feel scrumptious and spiffy.

Dear! Let me get one of those things for you. Haven’t you got another birthday now? Xmas is almost here too. Won’t you girlie? When a fellow does want to get something, it’s generally something useless and he doesn’t know what in the Dickens to get. Gee, I hope we get off this weekend.

This is only a short letter but will write another tomorrow and if I don’t mail this right away, it won’t reach you for another half day.

So with lots of love and I’d love to kiss you O sooo tenderly right now. Night! Dearest girl of mine.

And don’t forget where I live.

Ernest

Whoa! Slow down there, Ernest! "Going all the way" with another man's fiance is probably not a wise decision, even if you love her. I wonder what he means by "one of those things" he wants to get her for her birthday. The most telling line of this letter alludes to Mamie wanting him to love her in Clarence's place until he comes back. Where is he? How can she justify Ernest as merely a placeholder? I'm not in her position, so I don't know what's going on in her head, but it does seem as if she's just toying with Ernest. Does she really love him? Does Clarence have any idea there is someone else? So many questions.

For those of you playing along, "Gee, I hope we get off this weekend" refers to him not working. Get your mind out of the gutter.

More to come,

The Grammar Nazi

"Gee, I think I'll have to learn to smoke."

2009-11-21T12:51:00.000-08:00

September 25, 1918
Aero Squadron A.
Riverside, Calif.

Dearest Girl!

Just read your letter over, didn’t really have time this noon. Anyway I love to read your letters. Makes it seem as tho you live right here (almost!) Gee you have presence of mind when you can throw a comeback like that in a restaurant. Fellow keeps cool in a critical situation sure wins. Psychology you know. Is that deep too – did I? what!

Brother and sister – yes, but dear girl. I have a sister and you have a brother. See one can’t have two nowadays with everything so high. I just wrote her a letter tonight were I to put her letter in your envelope and yours in hers, she wouldn’t understand and you wouldn’t either honey!

Wish I knew what else to write. I’d love to go to the LA Orpheum Sun. night tho with you. If. I can’t figure out anything definite in the army.

I must do some laundry. Can’t get it back in time from the laundry and they don’t do it like we soldiers do.

And O, I must write a dear aunty of mine in Ohio a letter. She is always sending things and things and things. So, night honeybunch. And write soon. E.D.

Aero Squadron A.
Oct. 3, 1918

So! Dear girl:

Forgive me for writing two to your not any. It’s been raining all afternoon, was through work early and I don’t have to stick around like most of the fellows till 5: So I didn’t have anything to do to keep from thinking. Been studying this eve. O, on aerodynamics. They just brought in the maid and there was none for me. Um hum. I just turned away and said “darn it” and everything just like that. I hardly know what to write. I only know I want to come to Ontario awhile Saturday eve. May I?

We were to have been paid yesterday eve, but the PM was away and didn’t come back till after nine. And we were all dolled waiting in the dark. They called it off and we went over this morning before 5: It was either then or – later. The other squadrons will have to wait. We won the relay race the other night and a game of ball so the K.O. felt pretty good. Gonna have a special feed soon.

The movie bunch has gone. They will show the pictures for the first time in the Y.A. in about two weeks. Dear, dear girl wish you could see them. They ought to be fine. Gee, I think I’ll have to learn to smoke. The other fellows are writing, smoking and writing. All I can think of is sweet music and you. They keep the piano busy. M-hmum! And how are you? Bet you rec’d a letter from him [Clarence] and he says he has no other girl. O Mamie dear, I want you anyhow.

It’s Friday again tomorrow and inspection and everything. But I can’t be bothered. Hope we get through early Saturday. This morning one of the machines kissed the ground. No one hurt. Had trouble with several of the others. Same circus, bunch of sparrows, etc.

Mc. Jimmie just asked, “What are you doing Saturday? Writing to her?”

It’s mailing time, so night dear.

E.D.
Writing something anyhow. Will you hunnie?

A Letter in Pencil

2009-11-14T15:12:00.000-08:00

Ernest's last letter was a whopper, huh? I have so many questions. How was he rude to her when he felt "bunk"? (I love that word.) What is this about my great-grandmother considering the convent? We are obviously not related. She couldn't have been seriously considering it. She was engaged and flirting with another man!

What the heck is a fourflusher? Wait. I'm going to Google it. Be right back.

Okay, I'm back. Thank you, Wikipedia: A four flush is a poker hand that is one card short of being a full flush; a four flusher is a person who makes empty boasts or bluffs when holding a four flush.

I learn something new every day.

I wonder why Ernest has decided to quit going to church, and why the heck he doesn't drink. Surely he'll start now that he has given up organized religion.

Another new favorite word: "aviatrixey." An aviatrix is a female aviator, but he added an 'ey', which makes it sound like she would be his arm candy while he struts around in his flight gear.

He refers to a place called 'B,' but I'm unclear where that is.

The way he talks about being bothered by the guy next to him is funny; Ernest sounds younger than his 30 years by 2009 standards. That's one of the things I find so fascinating about 1918 language: It has an undertone of youth and innocence you don't find these days in adults.

Last, what a great phrase "the movie people" is as well. It makes film appear so "newfangled" and "mysterious," which it was.

Now if Ernest could quit beating himself up over Mamie, but alas, there's much more.

Aero Squadron A
September 25, 1918
Riverside, Cal.

Out in the field.

Not on a pink scented note paper, but on an empty stomach. Almost time to go to mess. Wish it was dinner with you. Was some busy this am. Motor’s on the blink all around.

Gee girl! I feel that I was mean to you Sunday. Dear sweet girl I just want to kiss and make up. Forgive me? I’ve asked you that lots of times already, but I guess I’m the big enough dickens to have to ask you dozens of times yet. Such is romance, huh!

But girl of girls, you did torment me toooo and everything. But I wouldn’t have missed being with you Sunday for anything.

Hope you are feeling scrumptious whatever that is. And will please please pretty please write when you can and I do want to see you Sun. M-may I?

Well here comes the circus and one ship missing, so bye dear. May have time to write a line later and may not. Wish the ship came down near there instead of anywhere over here. Bye! E.D.

Some ride bumpy, went over rough road. Yes the highways are rough sometimes.

P.S. Just need your dandy letter. I write too this week. Will have to mail this immediately with lots of love. E.D.

So they saw each other, but he's begging to see her again and begging for a letter, and just generally begging. I don't remember the last time a guy begged me for anything. It's somewhat sweet and somewhat annoying. Don't you think? What is this about him being mean to her again? However, as he mentions, and as you'll see, she does torment him. Here's a letter from her on the same day:

Ontario, California
September 25, 1918

My dear Ernest,
I’ve got 20 minutes before I go on duty at 5:00. The thing to do is I’ll just scribble a line to you.

Hope you will excuse the pencil dear. I left my pen at home.

How are you getting along dear? I expected a letter from you today and went to the post office especially for one—and didn’t get it. I was disappointed.

Dear when you come over next time, (Sunday), I’m not going to let my emotions get the best of me like I did Sunday. It’s my fault dear. I have no business sharing so much that I care for you. I’m going to love you just the same as ever, but it won’t show so much in my actions – if I can help it. Perhaps it will be easier for you then.

I haven’t heard from Clarence yet. It has been an awful long time but …

Today has been a hard day for me – as was yesterday. Had go for dinner each day between 12:00 and 1:15. I didn’t know whether I was living or dead. Both I guess. I’m thinking seriously of quitting but I want to have another job first. I want to talk to you about – something too. Something you spoke about Sunday, dear. I won’t go farther. I am quite tired tonight. But if you were to be here, I wouldn’t be tired at all.

I’ve just been playing this music box – the song you played Sunday. I hope to lose you and it makes me feel sad dear Ernest boy.

Well, it’s 5:10 so I guess I can’t say much more. That (bad girl) I told you about Sun. night just went by and looked in for me and [unclear word] comes her victim, the barber. He’s trying to draw me in too since “B” (the girl) told him a lot. I went to SD with her. I hate him dear. I wish I wish I wish I could be near you. If I could only go to Riverside – away from all these people!

Dear, I know I promised you I’d quit and I will, but I may be there Sunday so call in here when you come over and I’ll try to get the machine and we can have a good time. (I’ll tell the folks this time dear. No mischief. Ha ha ha.) Well, bye-bye dear, with love.

(Come as early as you can.)
Mamie.

Okay, let me get all this straight: First she apologizes for using a pencil. Who does that? Nowadays, people barely use pens!

Second, Sunday's meeting must have been hot! She let her emotions get the best of her. I wonder what that means? I bet there was some smooching going on. In the next breath, she mentions Clarence, just as a reminder to poor Ernest that he's not the only one wooing her. And so begins her awful teasing. This letter is full of mixed signals. She hopes to let him go, but she also wants him to come over again. Make up your mind, lady. Stop toying with the poor man. Last time he came over, the parents weren't involved and there was "mischief," but not next time because she's a good girl, and because it will help HIM if she doesn't succumb to her feelings. Sure...

I'm really confused about the bad girl and the barber, but that story is clearly not applicable to our saga, just intriguing.

TTFN,

The Grammar Nazi

Goodbye, Grace

2009-11-04T14:56:00.000-08:00

Okay, first of all, I'm not sure if women make men sweaters anymore as a way to woo them. I think the only women making sweaters are aunts and grandmas. It's sweet that Grace takes the time to do so for a man whom she may be in love with. "With love" sure indicates something, especially since my grandma mentioned she was Ernest's girlfriend at the time. As you will see below, however, a few months later, Grace is not happy with Ernest. His mind is elsewhere, and he "disses" her something fierce. Pauvre Grace. (By the way, I Googled Grace's LA address, and it still exists. She lived northeast of USC.)

In the first letter from Mamie, already we see her working poor Ernest. She's engaged and yet she calls him her "dear soldier boy." Here's a woman who doesn't seem to know exactly what she wants. (I have no idea what that's like. Yeah, right.) She dangles that proverbial carrot in his face because she adores the attention, and she probably truly is in love (or infatuation) with two men.

On the flip side, Ernest is taking the bait and sending her candy, letters and a photo of himself. He may be a glutton for punishment, and a bit of a doormat.

Did you notice the comment about their first day together being "short and sweet"? I wish I knew the details about their initial encounter, and how long before the letters started after it had occurred. We'll just have to use our imaginations.

Another "times have changed" moment in that last letter was when she said she hoped she wasn't "rushing" their relationship by writing him a letter too soon. Can you imagine someone saying that now?

Oh, Mamie. You big tease! "I'm going to San Diego, but I'm not going to tell you why." Just suffer, poor lovesick military man. Suffer and wait.

Here's another letter from Grace. She has been stood up:

LA
July 28, 1918
Dear Ernest:

You don’t know how disappointed I am that you didn’t come tonight. What happened? Next time you come to LA, won’t you call as soon as you get in and come out to dinner? Promise me that you will. I enjoyed your letter so much and your picture is splendid. Many thanks. Maybe you will consider this a letter and answer soon. I hope so.

With love,
Grace

Ernest failed to call on Grace, even after she made him a sweater! He also sent her a letter and a photo, just like Mamie. That's just not very nice of him, but as you'll see below, he's all about Mamie, the woman he can't have. Sadly, I believe this is the last we hear from Grace. Their relationship must have fizzled fairly quickly that summer. Hopefully she found her true love elsewhere.

Aero Squadron A.
September 19, 1918
Riverside, Calif.

Dearest Little Girl –

Please forgive me. I feel as though I’ve been rude to you and then some. Yes you did try to comfort me and it did make me feel worse. Well because I care for you. But I had no business showing that I felt so bunk. O girl-girl if I could write a letter like you. (Some letters, full of life & love.) Forgive me for not writing sooner. We’ve put in some long days this week. If it wasn’t for lights out at 9, I too would have written till late several nights. I wrote several letters and then tore them up.

Do I care for you? Yes! Too too much. God I wish there were two of you and you were the one for me.

No dear if you go to a convent I’ll t-t-tear the walls down.

They say all is fair in love and war. Wish to goodness I knew who started that so I would know whether to believe it or not.

Imagine…I cannot. I don’t smoke cigarettes and I’m not a fourflusher. So I can’t fool myself. I do not drink so I cannot get drunk. And I can’t cry! Baby…

I think I’ll quit going to church. Yet when I open my eyes Sun. morning, hope your preacher is a good one.

Sweet girl I don’t know what to say, just sit and think and think till it gives me a headache. Oh why!

Several of us took exam yesterday to go to ground school. If I were put on flying here, would I turn down going to B? I said yes! I meant for the present, but that flunked me. Expect to be put on soon. If I make good I’ll be an enlisted aviator. Wish you could be an aviatrixey. It is some problem to decide wh-what to do. Huh!

Gee I wish I wish I wish. But what is the use of wishing.

It’s almost 9 again and they will not let one write in the washroom. There is a fellow reading the theory of flight and he is just bothering me.

Well dearest girl. Good-night.

Just look at the lovely moon! Ooo. Last night we had hash for supper and I, for the first time since I can remember, talked in my sleep. Nearly woke up several others and every once in a while, someone else would talk.

With lots of love. (Forgive me.)
E.D.
Yesterday one of the lts. gave me a picture that the movie people took of another fellow and I. They had gone to Edendale and seen the films and it was given to them for me. They said there were five.

You are one girl I’d love to take to see the play when it is released. “Night.” “Lights out.”

E.D.

Until next time,

The Grammar Nazi

The Players

2009-10-26T19:58:00.000-07:00

My great-grandmother is on the right. I'm not sure who is on the left. Her sister perhaps?

The letters you are about to read mostly were written from 1918 to 1920. My great-grandmother Mamie had two twitterpated suitors at the time. One was Ernest, who wrote to her incessantly, professing his love and giving her day-to-day updates from March Field in Riverside, CA.

The other one was her fiance Clarence, who is merely discussed, as we never actually hear from him directly. One of these men is my great-grandfather; the other one had to settle for family picnics. (My grandma said the jilted and his future wife were around when she was a child and thereafter, which makes her wonder.)

I won't tell you which man ultimately wins her hand in marriage. That would ruin the surprise, since both seem to have a hold on her heart. She is, after all, a Gemini, just like me.

Mamie was born May 30, 1899 in Valton, Wisconsin. She grew up in Ontario, California, where these letters were written. She is 19 when they begin, while the hopelessly-in-love Ernest is ten years her senior, but who can tell by the way he talks?

After reading the letters in their entirety, I realize how much language and "social networking" has changed in such a short period of time. I am both thankful I live in a more modern era, and jealous of a simpler, more formal time. What I find interesting is that the people involved lived in California, where I live, not in some distant, foreign land. What I also find interesting is that the street addresses on the envelopes often didn't include numbers; that's how few people were in Southern California at the time.

Of course, it's important to note this love story takes place in front of the backdrop that is the end of World War I, which is mentioned throughout the correspondence.

Also, be warned: The letters drip with sap more than the trees outside my house. They are both sweet and ridiculous. Times really have changed. Once again, you'll see.

Oh, I forgot to mention: Letter number one is from a woman named Grace. I read most of the Ernest/Mamie letters before I got to Grace, and I was floored another woman was in the mix. My grandma nonchalantly said, "Oh, I think that was his girlfriend at the time."

Drama.

So, here goes (Being the Grammar Nazi I am, I cleaned up many of the errors, but left some in for effect.):

Los Angeles, Cal.
April 9, 1918

Dear Ernest:

I am very sorry to have made you unhappy when you were up.

I have finished your sweater at last and am sending it to you. I hope you enjoy wearing it as much as I have enjoyed making it.

Each stitch is a wish for your happiness and success.

I received your cute little note after you were here.

Brad and Irvie are up in Oakland just now. You can imagine how we miss Brother.

Let us hear from you, Ernest, and whenever you are in Los Angeles, come and see us. Kindest regards from all.

With love,
Grace

Ontario, Calif.
July 17, 1918

My dear Soldier Boy:

Please don’t think I am rushing things. I mean our friendship, by writing so quickly, but I want to thank you so much for the nice box of candy and the lovely letter. I received the candy yesterday and I sure was tickled over it because it showed that you cared a little bit at least and I appreciate that oh! so much. And I love this little picture of yourself that you enclosed in the letter. I’m so glad you are smiling. It always makes me feel good when I see a soldier smile. Now, just laugh at me. Who can write any better letter than yourself? I sure enjoyed it. It sounded just exactly like the way you talk and that’s the way I like for a letter to be. It was short but sweet, just like our first day together.

But we are only about 25 miles apart and are liable to spend another day together sometime, let’s hope soon! I ask you now to please come over sometime. You don’t necessarily have to come with Jim Mac, do you? Just come some Sunday morning and call or telephone 14470 and ask for me and I’ll drive up to get you, etc. I’d love to have you come.

I am going to San Diego Friday morning on the 6:30 bus and staying until Monday, so you hadn’t better come this week you see.

I won’t say what I am going for because it wouldn’t interest you (ha!ha!) but I’ll say this much. I’m not going to get married. Oh! gee!

Your letter makes me laugh. It is so full of expression and it seems as though I were really conversing with you! I’d like to know you better, boy dear, because I like you much, only don’t call me dear sweet little girlie. It isn’t like you to say it. I like it but – don’t dear friend. You said you were rather upset yourself. What about? Don’t get upset about me. I’m not big enough to upset you. I shan’t forget the goodbye between you and I, dear “E.D.” (I don’t like to say Ernest either.) Let me call you Edie (E.D.) just between you and I. Please?

Mamie

Comments to come,

The Grammar Nazi

A Box of Letters

2009-10-21T16:19:00.000-07:00

My grandma is full of surprises. Often those surprises come in the form of crass and hilarious words, such as the time my grandpa was accosted by a young prostitute on the street when he was walking his Swiss Mountain dog. When he came home with a phone number, my grandma called it and left this voicemail: "Listen up, you whore b*tch! Can't you leave an old man alone when he's walking his dog?" She threatened police action.

Did I mention my grandma is eighty-three?

Other times, she is full of generous surprises and produces rare family gems. One day last year, she got into one of her give-it-all-away modes and told me to follow her upstairs. In her weaving room where she keeps her loom and wool, she pulled open a drawer in one of her antique wood dressers and pulled out the beautiful, dilapidated box you see in the photo above.

I absolutely love the photo on the box, which is more a shredded pile of dusty cardboard than anything. What was inside, however, blew my mind. How could she have absentmindedly kept this secret from me for so long?

She pulled out a copious stack of letters and envelopes dating back to the early 1900s, and said, "They belonged to my mother. Take 'em." She acted as though she were giving me a few bucks for lunch, but I could tell the letters were important to her by her smile and the way she cackled telling me about them. "These are great!" she said.

Of course they are. They are pieces of her mother's heart, a mother who died well before her time.

And she gave them to me.

I have since scanned the letters and am in the process of retyping them. I never want them to be lost, and I want to share them with you because they are history and about love, a universal theme with which I have much (failed) experience.

It seems trouble in love runs in the family. You'll see.

Cheers,

The Grammar Nazi

Chemistry.com Part 24: I am who I am

2009-10-16T14:44:00.000-07:00

That sums it up nicely. None of us are going to change all that much. After reading hundreds of profiles on chemistry.com, I can say with conviction that basically, we all want the same attributes in a mate: friendship, love, respect, humor and a quiet night on the couch watching a movie. So, what it comes down to are these last few profiles, and after today, I wash my hands of online perusing. I will just have to find that special guy in the real world. Go figure.

Here's a guy who is obsessed with the gym and goes every day. He used to "weight 312 lbs now [he weighs] 263 lbs and still going down."

Yet, he still doesn't know how to fix a run-on sentence, but whatever. Grammar Nazi is tired of pointing this sh*t out. Kudos to you for losing weight.

He says the person he's looking for "can melt ice cream with a smile."

Actually, you can melt ice cream if you set it on the counter. It doesn't take much.

"Who doesn't mind a guy with facial hair."

I married a guy with facial hair. The only time I ever saw him without it was in photos. I'm down with that.

"A business person by day and you know what at night."

I have no idea what you do at night. Or is he talking about me? You need to be more specific. That's what this space is for. I'm not a mind-reader, last time I checked. That would be really cool though because then I could figure out what the hell people are thinking, which most of the time totally eludes me.

"I don't care how many b/fs you had or relationships you had."

Aren't boyfriends and relationships the same thing in this case? You were vague before, and now you're redundant. Argh.

"I'm a man I won't lie that I do like a nice arse than breasts."

As usual, I am more offended by the botched sentence than the actual content of said sentence. Run-on, run-on, run-on. Oh, and "than" should be "then," but even if that were correct, the sentence would still sound lame. You like butts more than you like breasts? Is that what you're trying to say? Oh, who the F cares? Next.

Here we have another man who can't even spell his profession; he's an "analysr."

You people are killing me.

He is "looking for someone that is attractive and unmarried."

Well, sh*t. I would hope so. By the way, it's "who is attractive and unmarried." Not "that." I can't take it anymore. Stop the insanity.

I don't know whether to feel sorry for the next guy or to think he's full of it: "I have a 12 yr old daughter that means the world to me living in AZ with her mother and stepfather."

Either he's a deadbeat, or his ex-wife is a biznatch for taking the kid away from him. Either way, I don't want to get involved in such a complicated situation. Oh, and it's "WHO means the world to me." Not "that." Come on, folks! It's not that hard!

I wonder about professional descriptions such as this one: "Price tags??? Just throw it in the bag!"

It's time to play twenty questions to find out what this guy does for a living. Retail is my first guess. Thief is my second.

He's the "quiet type. Pay no attention to what people say about us."

Why not? It's usually true.

"I always take care of number one. That would be 'ME.'"

Hurray! You're number one! You're number one!

Two more to go! Are you still with me? Good. This one has his "heart wide open wallet ready."

Cute. Missing a comma, but cute.

"I've never dated two people at once."

Define "dated." I plead the fifth.

"Don't run with scissors, measure once cut twice."

Is he saying he doesn't run with scissors, or is he suggesting that I not run with scissors? "Measure once cut twice" makes no sense. He put a smiley face after it, but I don't think it's funny.

Finally, the last guy whose profile I will ever read on this silly website says, "My loving mother is putting me up to this online business."

He sounds about as hesitant as I am. Amen, brother.

Okay, I think that's a good place to stop. Phew. I'm beat. Someone get me a drink. Vodka tonic with a lime, please.

Blog topic number two coming right up!

Adieu, with a big middle finger to the online dating world,

The Grammar Nazi

Chemistry.com Part 23: No dates were harmed in the following...

2009-10-12T18:39:00.000-07:00

Not yet, anyway.

So, "the good time teddy bear hugateria" would like you to know he had "FUN" driving his motorcycle from LA to New Orleans and back in torrential rain.

That sounds like a blast.

He continues, "For some reason when I typed 'fun' in all caps I thought of the dancing old dude from the six flags commercials. He's the personification of fun!"

No, he's not. He's the personification of annoying. If this guy's idea of fun is dancing spastically to cheesy techno music, then we have problems. Also, Six Flags is capitalized.

"BTW, he's a really super old guy with make-up on so he looks younger."

Um, I think you got that backwards. Also, what does that have to do with anything? You're getting sidetracked, when you're supposed to be talking about - oh look! a penny!

The next headline says, "looking to actually date for the first time in my life."

So what have you been doing for the previous 36 years exactly? Is this his way of saying he's never had a girlfriend before? Where did you go? I can't see you through all the red flags.

"Cynicism and sarcasm are two of my biggest turnoffs."

He would LOVE me then.

We're getting closer to the bottom of the pile. The next one says he "sheds a tear every time [he] sees a Mcdonalds in a third world country."

How often do you visit third-world countries? (Also, my grammar itchiness wants to correct McDonald's. There. I feel better.) A McDonald's can be found on every corner in America. How is that different from anywhere else? I don't eat there, and neither should anyone else, but it's not the biggest problem facing third-world countries.

Music-wise, this guy had a "country phase, but a 12 step program took care of that!"

Here's the thing about country music: It's not a phase. It's a soulless disgrace. Any time spent, even for a second, enjoying country music is a check mark in the "no" column. Also, hyphenate "12-step." K. Thanks.

I have to laugh at an IT data analyst who says, "Who knows? Maybe I'll be making my own feature-length movies someday."

Who knows? I know. You're thirty five and you have yet to get involved in the film industry. Feature-length films don't just drop in your lap. It takes years of passion and hard work for that to come to fruition. Just face it: techie for life.

All I need to say about the next guy is that he's wearing a cowboy hat and he's a "sprinkler fitter."

Next.

Douchenozzle alert! "Sports guy" is a diehard Cowboys fan.

I hate the Cowboys. And the Raiders. I know he didn't mention the Raiders, but I feel compelled to state the facts.

He has "seen Metallica 7 times in concert."

I guess the "shortest straw has been pulled for you." I wouldn't be spreading that around. I'm not proud of seeing Depeche Mode more than once, but I don't go around telling people. Oh wait. Dammit!

Here we have a man who dislikes "spiders, most bugs, overt rudeness, and the Dodgers."

Well, the mop on Manny's head is starting to resemble the legs of a spider, so I can see how LA baseball and arachnids would be similar. Besides, I like the Angels.

His last line says, "No ballerinas. Okay ballerinas."

What about former ballerinas? I quit ballet the day we were supposed to put on toe shoes. Does that count?

Now we're really powering through 'em. Once I'm done with this short stack, I'll be chemistry.com-free, as I happily deleted my profile today. Woot.

Okay, here's the next one: "I'm interested in people who have a blend of street smarts, emotional smarts, and smart smarts. I also like Smarties. And Fun Dip. Not so much Big League Chew. or Razzles. I mean, are they gum or candy?"

Who cares? Let's go back to Smarties and Fun Dip. Smarties were the candies I used to pick first out of my pillowcase full of Halloween treats. Well, besides the chocolate, of course. I love those. And Fun Dip reminds me of when I was a kid at the beach. Oh man, talk about a sugar rush. Anyone have any Big Sticks or Bomb Pops they want to share?

One more for today: "I practice tantric sex - when I don't get sex, I throw a tantrum."

For some reason, I'm picturing a screaming brat in the aisle at Target lying on the ground, pounding his fists. "But MOM! I. WANT. SEX. YOU. SAID. I. COULD. HAVE. SEX."

"Okay, honey, but you can only pick out one today."

"YAY!"

Happy rainy day,

The Grammar Nazi

Chemistry.com Part 22: Would you be my Valetine?

2009-10-09T15:03:00.000-07:00

First of all, it's "Valentine," with an 'n,' and second, it's WAY too early to be thinking about that dreaded excuse for a holiday that only serves to make single people feel that much lonelier. Don't give Hallmark and 1-800-flowers any ideas about beginning their advertising campaign well before Thanksgiving. You definitely need a new profile headline, as do most, including myself. On second thought, I don't need one. My time on chemistry.com is up in less than a week, and I won't be renewing. Shocker, right?

Next we have a guy who needs a GPS to be able to navigate back down to earth. "I read like a librarian but never learned to spel. Although I'm already in practice, I'm less than a year away from my phd. I'm not rich but I wiil be soon...my weightloss books will sell millions."

There is no way anyone would award this Bozo a PhD. "Wiil" and "weightloss"? For real? If you can't even spell what you are writing about, how do you expect to sell millions? Delusion is not only a river in Egypt, or something like that.

Next we have a hopeless romantic who asks, "Do you ever wonder whether these things work?"

Answer: Not anymore.

He says, "I like to spoil emotionally, mentally and physically."

Translation: I will smother you.

I'm confused by the following post: "Freddie Starr ate my hamster!"

Who's Freddie Starr? Should I know him? Why would he want to eat your hamster? Why do you have a hamster? That's a pet for eight-year-olds who wait to clean the poor fluff-ball's cage until the smell of stale pee permeates the entire upstairs of the house. Hamsters are cute until you get them home and realize they are nocturnal and will keep you awake running that squeaky wheel all damn night. No adult owns a hamster. They're just not that dumb.

He adds, "I read books by or about people who have died, or will die someday in the future."

In other words, he reads everything, including trashy romance novels and the Choose Your Own Adventure series. Who has the patience and time for that? Way to be choosy.

"I like long walks on the beach, but only if there are no dead bodies..."

For someone who is looking for love, you sure mention death often.

"I'd like someone who isn't bothered by the occasional kitchen fire or small-scale explosion."

Funny, but worrisome. I guess he won't be cooking for us anytime soon.

Okay, you have to help me out with this next one: He has "participated in a meat eating contest" and has "stuck [his] arm inside a cow that had a plastic window in its side."

My sick mind envisions those two events happening simultaneously. Did he eat the raw meat of a cow that had its pound of flesh brutally removed only to be replaced with a plastic window? Is Window Cow a real cow? How is it still standing if it has a big chunk out of its side? Was he the one to rip flesh off a cow so he could shove it in his mouth to win a few hundred bucks? This nutbag won't be hearing from any vegans. I hope that doesn't bother him.

Here we have a man "trained as a genetic light and color therapist." (Huh?) He says, "You, who is divine in all aspects of what is means to be a woman in the real and practical world and at the same time in love with life and so filled with the information that Spirit always holds beyond time and space."

First of all, you, who ARE divine in all aspects of what IT means to be a woman...

Second, why is everyone bat sh*t crazy?

Nutbag says his energy is focused like a laser - "Like the force of Niagara Falls pushed through one squirt from your garden hose."

I don't even want to tell you what this conjures up, but you can probably imagine, and now you wish you hadn't, but the image is already there, and it will be for some time. You can't even will it away. Sorry about that.

Here's another case of "which one of these kids is not like the other": This one "loves the ocean, children, all animals, cooking, enjoying food and drink, the symbolism of dragons, chocolate and the gym."

Did you notice what item doesn't fit into that very normal list? What does the symbolism of dragons have to do with anything involving the beach, food, exercise and loving little creatures? What DO dragons symbolize? Evil fire-breathing hell on earth? Yeah, that goes with the rest of the list. Sounds like a fun Saturday night to me.

Speaking of children, here's another mindboggler who says, "Given that I have to interact with numerous and random people every day, I have to constantly wear 'kid gloves.'"

What the eff are kid gloves? Did you borrow them from the Michael Jackson Sequined Glove Collection? The word 'creepy' keeps popping in my head while reading these profiles. I can't imagine why.

Happy Friday,

The Grammar Nazi

Chemistry.com Part 21: Rorschach Profile

2009-09-28T11:00:00.000-07:00

Are you saying your profile is just one giant symmetrical inkblot splat?

He says he "once danced on Richard Nixon's grave."

Weird. I don't know whether to shout, "Good for you!" or "What a freak!"

"I always drive it like I stole it."

And then do donuts on Richard Nixon's grave?

"I ask lots of questions. Some of them even have answers."

I ask a lot of questions, and many of the answers are still elusive, but that's what makes life interesting.

"I recently watched my beloved classic Porsche being totally destroyed by an engine fire."

"A man with priorities so far out of whack doesn't deserve such a fine automobile."

Okay, his promise of a Rorschach profile did not disappoint. It was definitely all over the place.

The next guy wants a girl he can have fun with "scaling a rugged peak or just wandering around IKEA."

How about scaling the peaks of IKEA? Those are some tall-ass buildings. They may even exceed the height necessary for base-jumping. Let me get out my measuring tape. Pass me my chute. Let's go!

Here's the part of the day when we stop to question the more confusing profiles on chemistry.com: statements that make you say, "Wha?" Ponder this puzzler, for instance:

"I'm looking for a woman who wants to be related."

You know what they say: Incest is best. That, however, is not legal, my friend. I don't think the word "related" means what you think it means. Unfortunately, he does it again:

"I like spending time together and getting more related."

If you're already related, how do you get "more" related? She's either your cousin, or she's not your cousin. You can't force her bloodline to be similar to yours if it didn't start out that way.

Here's Puzzler Man Deux:

"And not sure of what kind of relationship I want..." and in the next breath, "pretty much straight forward with what I want."

He doesn't know what he wants, but he's really straightforward about what he wants. Pretty much. That makes sense. To no one.

Puzzler Three:

"I am a single father of a ten year old son and have been for the past 8 years."

When I first read that, I thought his ten-year-old son was somehow eight-years-old because it sounded like he has been a father for that long. Now I get it. It took me a second. I glossed over the word "single." My bad.

Puzzler Man Four:

"I process by processing the process."

I delete you by deleting with the delete key.

It's time for spelling errors! Yay! My most favoritist part of the day.

(Yes, I know favoritist isn't a word. If you know the rules, you're allowed to break them.)

"People are so much more animated in 3 demensions don't you think?"

Is that like watching demons at an IMAX theater? (Also, run-on sentence alert!)

The same guy says, "I still listen to electornic music and work with some film students on thier projects..."

I'm also dyslexic. Did you notcie?

Now it's time to play a little game called "Right Spelling. Wrong Word."

You must be "subject to approval by a panel of my piers (I have two sisters)."

Do your sisters hang out at the beach, hover over the ocean, get crapped on by seagulls and trampled by tourists?

Contestant number two says, "Weather it is just hanging out in the evening, throwing darts..."

I didn't know the sun, clouds and that thick morning marine layer could play a fierce game of Cricket. Bullseye!

Last, we have an endearing prospect whose headline reads: "Every other guy on this is a creep with an STD. I'm sure of it."

What a gentleman. Get me out of here.

Signed, Sealed, Delivered,

The Grammar Nazi

Chemistry.com Part 20: 32 Flavors and then some

2009-09-22T14:03:00.000-07:00

Is one of those flavors triple chocolate fudge brownie mousse extravaganza? If so, I'd like a date with you, sir. If not, ew.

This Altadena resident says, "Being weird is hard..."

It's actually fairly easy to be weird. I think you're confusing "weird" with "creepy stalker." Just look at that photo! You'd give Norman Bates a run for his money.

"Looking for someone who is passionate and committed and maybe a little bit dirty (secretly dirty or overtly dirty - doesn't matter.)"

He must fall under the "Lot-a-bit dirty" category, and surely, he's overt about it. I would like to know his definition of "dirty" because I doubt it would coincide with mine. On second thought, I'll just run away.

The next profile starts with, "Is it me, or is this place comedy?"

You said it! This guy is my new best friend. He gets it.

"Ok this is like my 9 millionth attempt at this..."

You have more patience than I do. I have already "checked out." I am definitely not the online dating kind of girl, and I'm okay with that.

"I am a man. I have all my limbs. I am fond of using toothpaste..."

This guy is funny.

"If you don't like to laugh...then we're probably going to fight and then I'll have to get on craigslist and say horrible things about you in multiple cities..."

This guy is really funny.

"I drive fast, eat rare steaks, argue with cops and gamble with parking meters."

I drive defensively, eat medium rare steaks, comply with cops and feed meters quarters like candy.

"I think people who drive manual transmissions are better lovers."

I learned on a stick when I was 15.

"Dogs should weigh more than a PC."

And cats should weigh far less.

"No photo = no dice."

Bingo! You're speaking my language, G-Money. I want to be friends with this guy.

I don't, however, want to be friends with the next guy: "Okay, I'm a total bumb."

Bumb? Like bumb on a log? or like bumble bee without "le bee." You're a bum. There's no extra b, buddy.

"I stay at home and watch tv all day."

How boring.

"My parents support me..."

Lucky you.

"I play darts with my pants around my ankles."

*Raises hand.* Excuse me? Mister? Um, how does that help your aim? Also, you might want to make sure you don't release the dart as your arm is coming back down. That could hurt. Just a tip.

Next up: another techie. Mr. Mac Support says, "If you are constantly looking up, you're probably missing something right at your feet."

My shoes? Gravel? What? Never mind.

So, here's a product designer who also doesn't like drama.

Because really, who does?

If there's drama, "games end and with only 2 players there's a 50% chance looser will be you."

Looser than what? I'm just full of questions today. It's spelled LOSER. Like that. See?

Always here to help,

The Grammar Nazi

Chemistry.com Part 19: NO CHEESY FIST LINE

2009-09-18T14:28:00.000-07:00

It's amazing what one little forgotten 'r' can do to change the entire context of a malformed headline. It a) does in fact make his first line cheesy, and b) inadvertently references something that shouldn't be discussed with total strangers. Or at all.

This same man likes to "lern new things."

Let's start with the word "learn," shall we?

His friends and family are "vary important" to him.

Are they really? "It varies." Har har.

He likes "4-wheelrs" and enjoys sharing his "intrests."

Apparently his interests do not include the usage of vowels.

Unlike Mr. Spelling-Challenged, the next poor chump says, "HOWDY!" and then points out that he purposefully wrote a "cheesy intro, but [he lives] in Norco. Sometimes that rubs off on you."

Last time I checked, the only thing that rubs off on you as a Norco resident is the putrid stench of cow manure. Have you ever been to Norco? It's kind of like Chino. If your car windows were rolled down before you got there, they are quickly rolled up while you hit the A/C recirculate button on your dashboard and pass through town with Cheetah-like speed. No one, except the owners of the aforementioned cows, actually lives there. Oh, and this credit analyst.

Nerd alert! Nerd alert! Nerd alert! Hold everything and try to analyze this:

"Leader of the Great Old Ones. Cthulhu exists in a deep sleep of death in the watery depths of R'lyeh silently dreaming, waiting for the day when the stars are right and his worshippers raise R'lyeh from the Pacific Ocean."

It's on like Comic-Con. His whole paragraph goes on like that, and the fact that I have no idea what he's talking about affirms my position as a member of the "cool kids." Although this paragraph says nothing direct about Geek Boy, it says EVERYTHING I need to know. I believe he's going to star in the 40-Year-Old Virgin 2: Electric Boogaloo.

My fellow Grammar Nazis: Prepare yourself for what's about to come. Don't say I didn't warn you: "I could honestly say that I;m loal respectful very considerate and when it comes to satisfying or accommadating the person I;m with. I am deffinetly not selffish"

We have reached Defcon 5, people. This is not a test. Improper use of a semicolon. Lack of commas. Misspellings. No period at the end of the sentence. A lengthy fragment. This is a grammarian's worst nightmare, and the guy is even cute! Is there no justice? Pass the oxygen mask. I'm hyperventilating.

Let's move on to someone who can relate to my love of the English language: an English teacher. He teaches because [he likes] supporting kids, and [likes] figuring out how to make them stronger thinkers and writers. And it's fun."

Fun? Did he say fun? There is nothing "fun" about teaching English to teenagers. Painful? Yes. Mortifying? Yes. Debilitating? Yes. Fun? No.

Oh my. The next Enemy of Words writes a long paragraph and puts an apostrophe before every 's' at the end of every word. He writes "take's," "event's," "eye's," "feeling's," "enjoy's," and "say's," to name a plethora.

Why do you insist on making me cry, Mr. Camera Security Systems Man? It's as if, because he doesn't know when to put an apostrophe 's' at the end of words, he just hedges his bets and does it for all of them, knowing every once in awhile, he'll get it right. In this case, he's wrong more often than not. I'd say, go the other way, and don't throw in an apostrophe, even when one is required.

Finally, we have a guy who works for an "online social networking company."

You mean like this one?

He says, "I like watching movies in the dark."

As opposed to in broad daylight in the middle of the street? Isn't "the dark" normally where films are shown? Just stating the obvious. Don't ask him. He just works here.

La La Love you,

The Grammar Nazi

Chemistry.com Part 18: Not a Bone Head!

2009-09-14T11:12:00.000-07:00

Nice headline. I like "not a bone head" in my man. It's a nice quality. Also, bonehead is one word. It's one of those "compound" thingamajigs we learned in third grade.

I think the anger quotient has gone up in recent days on chemistry.com. Thinly veiled references to past dating disasters abound. Take this one, for instance:

"She has a steady job and can support herself if needed, so I know she isn't just with me for a meal ticket...She also knows that you don't have to go on a vacation every single week-end...Sorry I had to say it."

Won't you take me to Bitter Town? Won't you take me to Bit-ter Town? Are there really girls who expect you to take them on vacation every weekend, or even want to, for that matter? That sounds exhausting.

Over-the-Dating-Scene Guy #2 has "dated a string of hot psychos and I'm so over the high maintenance voodoo mind games some young women play."

Somebody knows how to pick 'em. Maybe, like the rest of us who have failed at love, this guy needs to look inward and figure out what it is that's causing him to choose such women. We're not all the way this guy describes them. Guys say they hate mind games, but when you're straightforward, they freak out. So what exactly does this guy really want?

Guy #3 is "tired of getting slammed down."

I feel your pain. Join the club. I'm a co-founder. Punch and cookies are in the corner. Coffee is on the right. The bathroom is down the hall. The meeting will start in ten minutes. Feel free to bring your friends next time.

Guy #4 says, "I find that neither party is usually willing to change and it just adds stress to the relationship."

This is true. It's not really something to put in a dating profile, but true nonetheless. However, when you meet the right person, there isn't really much change that is required. It shouldn't be that hard. Right? Right? Someone please confirm.

Guy #5 doesn't want someone "high strung. High maintenance drama has no place in my life."

It apparently has had its place at some point, or you wouldn't be making it a central focus. Where are all these high-maintenance drama-causing chicks? I want to round them up and give them a stern talking to.

He also wants someone who does "not depend on me to make EVERY decision."

Don't you want to know the back story on these guys without actually asking them?

Guy #6 is "cynical and sarcastic, but only if I really like you."

How are you when you DON'T really like me? Nice?

He adds, "i believe punctuation matters...sometimes."

But you don't believe punctuation matters in this case when you were supposed to capitalize the first word in your sentence? Blargh! He, in fact, doesn't capitalize any of his words. That drives me batty. Is it really that hard to hit the shift button on your keyboard?

I'm done with the indignant crowd for now (except that I have to live with myself, of course). Next we have a prospect who "sat at the 'cool' lunch table in elementary school."

Elementary school this is not. Although, I do remember sitting with my friends who used to tease me for bringing peanut butter and banana sandwiches to school. "THAT'S GROSS!" Don't knock them until you try them, kiddos. As for sitting with the "cool" kids, I honestly don't remember who the cool kids were in 1981. That was a long time ago.

Here we have a high school teacher who wants someone who "enjoys exercise and sex."

Like magic, let's combine those two things into one and save some time going to the gym. Presto! Burn calories and have fun simultaneously. What a concept. By the way, who DOESN'T enjoy sex? If you fit into that category, my deepest apologies.

Finally, I just want to point out that someone referred to Monty Python as "dumb comedy."

Don't ever do that again. Monty Python is genius. Someone get me a comfy chair so I can beat this guy with it.

Off to build a giant badger,

The Grammar Nazi

Chemistry.com Part 17: Monkeisme

2009-09-07T17:54:00.000-07:00

Should that be "Monkey is me," or does this guy wear a brown Gregorian robe and threw in an extra vowel accidentally? We'll never know. (Pie lesu domine. Dona eis requiem. WHACK!)

In honor of International Literacy Day (9-8-09), it's Leave a Letter Completely Out of a Word Day on chemistry.com. Here are tributes to this new holiday:
fiends (instead of friends)
moutain (instead of mountain)
speial (instead of special)
dram (instead of drama)
jus (instead of just)
partern (Okay, no letters are missing. I just had to add this terrible example of a typo for "partner".)

Do you know what this reminds me of? Did you ever see the South Park episode where the kids go to the planetarium, and the tour guide calls it the plane'arium all day? Yeah, that.

The guy who wants no "dram" also "no how to treat a woman with respect." If "your a fun glirl looking for a kickback guy to have fun with we can talk and see were it goes from there."

Did I mention it's International Literacy Day? This guy owns his own business, but can't write his way out of a paper sack. This frightens me. But then, you should know that by now.

Here we have the most annoyingly positive man in the whole world. He wants someone who "loves life as much as [he does]."

That's great. You should want that, but you don't have to repeat it over and over.

Here's what I mean: "I'm a positive and happy person...I love life....I'm looking for a cool girl who likes to be happy in life...If I had to design a perfect girl: a perfect smile who smiles all the time and loves life. Is positive all the time..."

We get it. Positive, happy, loves life. Your profile could be shortened a tad and could still keep that element of sugary sweet in tact. Pass me the Tums.

He also says he's "every girls dream guy..."

Presumptuous much? Oh, and you forgot an apostrophe. "Dream" belongs to "girls." It's possessive, which could be the case with you as well, since your overt egotistical happiness could be masking inner insecurities. Just a guess.

I'm confused by this line: "Lived a LL Lifestyle in past."

What does LL stand for? Lesbian lover? Little lifeboat? Laminated liver? I'm so confused.

As much as the last guy was exuberant and repetitive, "The Man" is dry and says nothing about himself or what he's looking for:

"You will probably want to use quoted language in your personal essay."

Who said anything about an essay, Professor?

"There is nothing like the 'heard voice' to create the impression that this is real."

You're typing, aren't you? That means you exist, which means you are real. Just say, "Hey, I'd like to chat on the phone to make this more personal." Isn't that what you're trying to say?

"Spoken speech engages another whole sense and enriches the medium immensely."

Does anyone else get the sense we're in a classroom reading a lesson?

"Unfortunately, using quoted language demands a whole set of typographical conventions - the quotation marks themselves and the various commas and end-marks that are required."

Yes, but who the heck are you?

"The Guide to Grammar and Writing contains a brief section on quotation marks to help you."

You're talking to the wrong girl.

Here's a profile where only one thing is worth mentioning: "I love my power tools!"

You too?

Next we have one of those unfortunate souls who should be looking for a male instead of a female, but he just hasn't quite figured it out yet. In his profile photo, he's wearing an apron in the kitchen (and no, that's not why he looks gay). What's interesting is that he makes a point in his first line that should be a given, considering he's looking for a woman: "I am a young, well employed heterosexual guy..."

Are you sure about that? I'm not convinced, and something tells me you're not either, since you had to state it.

"My immediate goal is...a meeting of the minds and possible other parts of the anatomy."

Gag.

The day wouldn't be complete without a certifiable freak in the mix. He starts by asking, "What brings you here?"

Well, originally it was to find a possible mate, but since I stupidly deleted a few normal guys who would have been worth talking to, now I'm just here to find oddballs such as you about which to write.

"This may not be entirely coherent..."

I'll be the judge of that. Try me.

"I am interesting in...lucid dreaming, Reiki, graphic novels, antiquing, vigorous debate, quiet time..."

Lucid dreaming is a hobby? Yeah, coherency might be out the window already. Is he talking about masturbation? And what the hell is Reiki? I would Google it, but I'm afraid of what might end up on my computer screen. My guess is "quiet time" and "lucid dreaming" go hand in hand with his hands.

"I strive towards self-mastery..."

Yep, I was right.

"I don't expect to have many matches, as I really don't fit into any discernible shape."

I'm going to go with hexagon.

Winding down,

The Grammar Nazi

Chemistry.com Part 16: Start smiling...NOW!

2009-09-03T08:35:00.000-07:00

Okay, okay, I'm smiling. Sheesh. Don't be so demanding. (That's really me on the right. Scary, no?)

If there were any time I wish I could post a photo, now is the time. You should see what this pimp daddy is wearing: pink and orange psychedelic '70s matching hat and shirt, a black vest and an afro wig. He's not smiling, as he demands of us, but rather, sporting a "look how cool I am" facial expression as he points at the camera.

In his profile, he mentions, "I don't have reading/sending mail privileges."

Where are you? Prison? How hard is it to sign up for an email address?

His occupation says "business owner."

If he's in prison, maybe he's in charge of the laundry and shirt-folding department, or maybe he runs a chain gang. This could get tricky. What's the procedure for conjugal visits these days?

Moving along. The next prospect is a self-proclaimed "pizza snob" who grew up in Chicago.

I love Chicago, but I have to say that I like New York-style pizza hands-down. I'll take thin crust any day of the week over deep-dish.

"I'd relish a 20 degree day in February than 77 in the shade. That's just unnatural."

Yes, it is. What is wrong with you?

"I like a gal who isn't afraid to get her knees scuffed climbing a hill..."

I've gotten my knees scuffed, but it wasn't while climbing a hill.

"...Sunday mornings in fall and winter are reserved for Bears football, win or lose. And I love making grilled cheese and tomato soup to eat watching it."

DA BEARS! The Super Bowl Shuffle: Will they ever live it down? (Hurray for grilled cheese and tomato soup though. And football. I loves me some football, just not the Bears.)

Next we have yet another man whose photo would work so well here. I can't imagine why he chose it: You can hardly see his face, and he's wearing a red ball cap, standing in some sort of animal sanctuary, pointing at a koala bear next to him - with both index fingers. The koala is looking at him as if he's nuts.

"Dude, check out this rad koala bear. Want to go on a date?"

He's a "dog lover..."

Me too!

"...and an unapologetic Cubs and Bears fan."

Hey, I know the perfect guy for you. There's someone you just have to meet!

The next one is really tempting. He doesn't look like someone I'd be attracted to, but good lord, he makes bank. He owns companies in more than one state and says he makes more than $250,000 a year.

Jackpot, baby!

"I only ask you to be available 4 times a year to travel abroad."

So, does he only want to see me four times per year? That's kind of ambiguous, but traveling abroad quarterly sounds mighty fine indeed. Money doesn't buy happiness. Money doesn't buy happiness. Money doesn't buy...I'll just keep repeating that as I move on.

You have to wonder about a guy who discusses - and compliments - his ex-wife in his dating profile. "My ex-wife...was a beautiful and brilliant person..."

Was? Is she dead? I'm not sure if this is the right time and place to mention your ex-wife. My ex is also a brilliant, lovely person who wasn't my match, but I'm not going to talk about him before I even meet you. It just makes me think you aren't over her yet. You should probably work on that.

"I am attracted to well balanced women."

Ah f*ck. I guess I'm out.

It's definitely "post chemistry.com photos day" for sure. Here's a guy who says he's a full-time dad to a 12-year-old son.

How is it possible you have a 12-year-old son when YOU look like you're twelve? There's no way this guy is old enough to have an almost-teenager, unless his profile photo is really old.

"If we meet and ur boring; youre out!!"

You write like a 12-year-old boy too! What's up with all the misuse of semicolons lately? I'm also not such a fan of writing "ur" for "you're" in this case. There's a time and place for shortening your words: It's called text messaging. As an aside, no one wants a boring chick. I get that, but two exclamation points? Come on.

Here's someone who can't make up his mind to save his life. Let me show you what I mean:
"I grew up wanting to be a tennis star, studied to be an archeologist, traveled to become a photographer...and came back a carpenter!"

I understand doing a 180 in your career. I went to college for seven years, became a high school English teacher, and quit after two years to become a magazine editor. It's all about trial and error. But wow, this guy is all over the map and it makes my head spin. More proof he doesn't know what he wants:

"What do I want in a woman? I will leave that up to you, to show me what I want."

That's such a cop-out. At 38, he surely knows what he likes, right? Maybe not.

Until next time,

The Grammar Nazi

Chemistry.com Part 15: Spell check not required!

2009-08-29T15:55:00.000-07:00

Finally, a guy who understands the importance of spelling! How refreshing. He knows "the difference between 'your' and 'you're'."

Hallelujah!

He's "looking for someone" who is "not psycho."

I've seen that word often lately, which makes me wonder about the caliber of women on these dating sites. I wish I could filter through the females on chemistry.com to see "the other side."

"No tendencies to decorate in pink."

Check.

"Not a bible thumper."

Check. (Bible should be in caps, but we'll let him slide on that one.)

"Bonus points if you know how to drive a stick shift."

Double check. I learned how to drive a stick when I learned how to drive. I even took my driver's test using a manual transmission. I miss my 1980 green Volvo "tank." Okay, not really.

"Points deducted if you're a picky eater."

I will eat basically anything, except lima beans and liver. (Note his correct use of the word "you're." High five.)

"I recently went to 'the river' for the first time and I gotta say, that was a hoot."

River should be capitalized. Gotta isn't a word. No comma before that. Who says "hoot" when not in conjunction with an owl? I've never heard of the Colorado River being called a "hoot." I wouldn't exactly call underage drinking and teenage orgies a "hoot." Yes, I've seen that, and yes, it was disturbing, but that was a holiday weekend. Maybe he was there on a weekday right after school started. Who knows.

"I'm right-handed in everything I do except eat."

Well, there's a picture. He forgot to mention his left hand comes in darn handy for looking up Internet porn.

The next guy does nothing to curb my apprehension about meeting total strangers for dates. He's an experienced Internet dater who is going "to try one last time to actually meet someone who is who they say they are."

Oh boy. This should be good.

"I have met a few women on-line with no success. I met someone who was attractive in her picture, although in person had no teeth."

No teeth? Poor guy. How is it that a person could end up with not one single tooth? Even people who barely take care of their teeth at least have a few dirty chompers. I would love to know the story behind a woman living in 2009 in Southern California who has NO teeth. You know what? He has to be lying. I believed him for a second because I'm THAT gullible.

"I met someone intelligent and witty who also wanted children within two hours of us meeting..."

Now THAT I can believe. Desperate people walk these streets. Talk about a foolproof way to send someone running. Someone needs to teach that woman a couple rules about keeping a man around, instead of watching the dust cloud form behind him like Wile E. Coyote.

"I met someone who seemed refined and well balanced, however got naked on the dinner table at a local restaurant after only one drink."

I call bullsh*t on that run-on sentence. That did not happen. It just didn't. This is the part where he reveals the joke to show what a great sense of humor he has. Only, he doesn't do that. He's totally serious. Strange.

I'm still trying to figure out what the next headline means: "Every day my sock drawer is a little game of concentration..."

A) He doesn't fold his socks and can't find matches.
B) He loses socks in the laundry and can't find matches.
C) Half his socks have holes in them, and he has to dig for the good ones.
D) Why is this important again?

He takes the sarcasm route to start, as many tend to do: "First of all, I'm terribly boring, and not very smart either; but occasionally an interesting thought passes through my head...No, scratch that...I've never had an interesting thought...and come to think of it, I may be really boring..."

I understand he's trying to be funny, but I really don't find this all that humorous. He used the word "boring" twice to try to prove that he is, in fact, NOT boring. He also misused a semicolon, but at least he's in the ballpark of semicolon usage, unlike the guy who threw it in the middle of the sentence for no reason. I can't let him go for all those ellipses though. They are supposed to be in place of words that aren't there, but they are overused to show pauses. Must...stop...doing...that...dude.

He's "always interested in learning new things. (I believe welding is next on the list!)"

Welding is not at the top of my bucket list. I don't think I'll be lying on my death bed with tubes coming out of my nose, frail and weak, thinking, "My life would be complete, if only I had learned to weld." I don't know about you, but I'm kind of over this guy.

Here we have a systems administrator who seems to be mildly obsessed with Brad Pitt.

Join the club, bucko.

"I like to think I resemble Brad Pitt, but I don't."

At least he's honest.

"But I am way more compassionate than he is, and I'm nicer and have stronger morals than he does."

How does he know that? Does he know Brad Pitt? Oh my god! He knows Brad Pitt! Maybe I should ask for an introduction.

Later, he says, "I also like to talk in metaphors and hyberbole."

What was my first clue?

"I am a liberal/conservative/centrist hybrid."

Definite hyberbole. Is that even possible?

"What I don't want in a partner is a meanie. Or Brad Pitt."

That makes one of us.

Cheers,

The Grammar Nazi

Chemistry.com Part 14: Que Sara Sara

2009-08-24T12:58:00.000-07:00

Who is Sara? Is she your girlfriend? If you have a girlfriend already, why are you on a dating site? Perhaps Sara is the one who got away. By the way, it's spelled sera, F*ck Face.

This one fancies himself an intellectual who watches the History Channel and PBS.

Yet, he would make Doris Day cringe if she saw how he misspelled her classic song. What will be will be Sara, apparently.

He lists as one of his favorite recent movies "Moliere'."

If you don't know where to put the accent mark, don't put it anywhere, dude. Besides, that's not even an accent mark. (Insert John Hughes "Moe-lay-really-pumps-my-nads" reference here, for all you self-proclaimed pop culture junkies.)

What's most special about this guy's profile is the use of the word "allot." As in "a lot." And he used it no fewer than three times.

The overuse of "a lot" is bad enough without the misspelling. You will now find Grammar Nazi crying in the fetal position, rocking, sucking my thumb and speaking gibberish. I have few strands of hair left on my head at this point. I don't know how I'm going to make it to October reading these profiles.

I continue to cry as I read the next one. Scratch that. I'm sobbing now. This sailor likes to "party wityh [his] friends."

If you don't have enough common sense to catch a perfectly catch-able typo, don't bother trying to find your next ex-wife, pal.

Remember that man a long time ago who misspelled the word "intelligent"? You didn't think it could happen again, but it did because people are crazy stupid around these parts. This one says he wants to find an "inteligent" woman.

I even think he misspelled the word differently from the last spelling-challenged dumb*ss. Alternate spellings of "intelligent": Let me count the ways.

He also wants someone "atractive" who "enjoys quite and introspevtive moments with a book..."

No amount of spell-checking will help this man, and I doubt he's ever picked up a book in his life, and yet, he makes more money than I do. What the f*ck is wrong with this world?

He was "raced Catholic."

Dear God: Make it stop.

He lists his job as "enginerring design."

Dear God: Why didn't you listen to me? Hello?

Okay, moving on. I found someone who can spell. In Latin. His headline reads similia similibus curantur.

I admit I had to look it up because I can't stand not to know what something means if I don't understand it. Thank you, Google. How did I live without you?

What Smarty Pants meant is "likes are cured with likes," but the definition I found was this: "The homeopathic axiom expressing the law of similars or the doctrine that any drug capable of producing detrimental symptoms in healthy individuals will relieve similar symptoms occurring as an expression of disease." (from answers.com)

So his tag line is basically about anti-venom. How romantic.

Next he says, "What words can I spill out onto your screen that would be the window to my world, my soul..."

How about you start with something other than a reference to drugs and disease. Just a thought. Side note: Who uses the words "window to my world, my soul" with a straight face? Seriously. My tears have turned to giggles. I see progress here.

And just in time for another poem! It has been awhile since we dissected a poem. A faceless man with a name that rhymes with "gargles" has just provided us with some literary couplets rivaling Shakespeare. Let's take a gander. The unfortunate and irrelevant title is "Scooby dooby doo":

"I am me and thats who i be.
you are you I put simply."

A rhyming couplet even. Goody.

"you with me we could be we...don't you see?"

I with you could be glue. Comprende?

"how much would could a woodchuck chuck if a woodchuck could bench press 150lbs?"

Maybe a woodchuck wouldn't just chuck "would." Maybe it would also chuck "should" and "could."

"I once knew a girl from nantuckette,
who really liked to say 'funky towwwn."

Did I mention this man is forty-years-old, lives in Beverly Hills and also makes more money than I do? Excuse me while I load this gun.

"Hope you found this interesting and entertaining."

Sorry, Marlowe. Try again. On second thought, please just go away.

Here's a "new member" who says, "I love the recession" where his profession should be. His headline says, "Probably not the profile you're looking for."

Probably?

The first sentence of the first line is "'Chemistry' must be the single mosted used word in profiles..."

Mosted. Yes, he said mosted. I think the mosted used words in these profiles should be, "Hey, if you don't mind someone who is functionally literate, we're in business."

I rest my case with the next bozo, who thinks he "could be the perfect one for you." In his one paragraph, he misspells "buisness," possibbly," "legitamate" and says, "I'am."

The gun is now cocked and ready. I may rewrite my profile with a headline in bold letters: ATTENTION MEN OF CHEMISTRY.COM: CHECK YOUR SPELLING AND PROOFREAD. Something tells me the effort would be futile.

See you soon, if I'm still here,

The Grammar Nazi

Chemistry.com Part 13: What's the Point of Being So Picky?

2009-08-22T10:13:00.000-07:00

Here we have a filmmaker who says his friends tell him, "'You never miss a chance to make a bad first impression!' So this will prolly be that...I'm a writer and general wordsmith..."

He was right about one thing: He made a poor first impression. He was wrong about another thing: No "general wordsmith" uses a word like "prolly." Prolly is not even a word, or didn't this "writer" realize that?

"Double pigeon in yoga always feels like I've been assaulted."

What the hell is a double pigeon and why do I care if you can't do it? (Fun fact: Did you know pigeons are just rats with wings? The more you know...)

"I have three bicycles."

I have one, and I just fell off of it, slid down the sidewalk and tore the crap out of my knee. I think I'll stay away from anything involving two wheels for awhile.

The next guy calls himself a "bon vivant." He "chews with his mouth closed."

Gosh, is he potty trained too? If so, I may have found my dream guy. It would help if he knew how to tie his shoes and make his own peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. Maybe if he's lucky, I'll teach him how to drive a stick shift after he gets his driver's permit.

He wants to "learn to fly."

Whoa, one thing at a time, little buddy. Now ease up on that clutch as you shift into second. Don't grind the gears, and take your other foot off the brake!

He requests a woman with "no violent felony convictions."

Well, there was that one time, but he was really asking for it, and I never was convicted, so it really doesn't count. Does it?

Daniel wants a woman with "no baggage."

NO baggage? I can understand not wanting a woman who needs a police escort for her baggage, but NO baggage in your late thirties? Surely a single woman pushing forty has SOME baggage if she hasn't been living under a rock for the last twenty years. He's going to be hard-pressed to find a baggage-free lady. Packing light has never been my specialty, but I'm learning. The college boyfriend who broke my heart used to take up a room full of suitcases. Now he fits snugly in my makeup bag. My ex-husband is probably the equivalent of that last pair of shoes you probably won't wear on your trip, but you take them anyway because you don't want to be left with sneakers when you need boots. Unfortunately, shoes are what make the bag heaviest. I also pack a lot of black clothes because they go with everything (and because I like black), and I have found they fit better if I roll them up instead of folding them, but I honestly have no idea how that fits into this baggage metaphor. So never mind.

Oh look! Another writer. I see a pattern. This one says, "Since there's no way to do this without sounding somewhat like a Cal Worthington used-car ad, I'll just give you the facts."

I wonder how many dogs Cal has named Spot by now. Is that commercial still running? Am I the only one who used to think the lyrics to the song were "pussy cow, pussy cow, pussy cow," instead of "go see Cal"?

One of the "facts" about this guy is that he likes to figure out "the fancy-schmancy procedure for drinking the bottle of absinthe on [his] shelf."

Yikes. I'll just stick to vodka and wine.

We have someone here who is stuck in the '80s. First he references a local Southern California commercial from when remote controls were still attached to the TV. Now this: "I'm looking for someone who doesn't use the phrase 'love connection,' unless it's in conjunction with Chuck Woolery."

I have news for him. No one talks about the game show Love Connection anymore. That show has been gone for YEARS. New unwatchable "reality" shows have sprung up since the days of The Newlywed Game and The Dating Game. You know, like The Bachelor and Rock of Love. Crap like that. What year is this? Get with the program, dude.

Onward and hopefully upward. Ooo, here's one: "Describing oneself is always a complicated thing...how does one, without subjective questioning; manage to successfully speak of their self without sounding conceited or goofy?"

You thought I was going to make it a whole day without nitpicking someone's grammar, didn't you? Sorry, you were dead wrong. There's nothing worse than a person who TRIES to sound sophisticated and, in the process, totally effs up the English language. "I'll just throw in a semicolon anywhere just so it looks like I know how to use one." One should not use a semicolon if one does not understand the concept of one. Stop saying one when you're talking about yourself, mister! Congratulations. You've pulled off sounding goofy after all.

Last one for today: "I never take NO for an answer."

Yes, you do. *Delete.*

Annoyed as always,

The Grammar Nazi

Chemistry.com Part 12: Insert Witticism Here

2009-08-17T14:04:00.000-07:00

I have now managed to run out of possible matches twice since I signed up for chemistry.com five weeks ago. I have spent too much time looking for weirdos and their strange comments for this blog, but it has been entertaining.

The first time the site said, "You have no more matches," I laughed and updated my facebook status. Then I expanded the age range of men I was looking for; this time, I'm not sure what to do. My requirement settings are too broad as it is. I will continue to look for the absurd to pass the time, which brings me to the scariest "match" thus far:

He's a consultant.

Of what, I am unaware.

He's "trying to find the right person."

As opposed to the left person?

"but I'm incredible self centred, selfish and mean. Don't expect a response unless you can tolerate that. Must like expensive wine, whisky and brandy and not complain about cigars smoke."

Who in her right (or left) mind would respond to this a-hole? Cigars are the least of your problems if you date this bottom-feeder (and butchering enemy of the English language).

He has a Ph.D. (in what? He can't even spell "centered"), and he's "heavyset." There is no photo.

This is the antithesis of a profile that solicits a response. I would be shocked to learn someone had sent him an "I'm interested in you" email. He's wasting his money. He should continue to spend it on whiskey, wine and cigars. On the other hand, plenty of women gladly take abuse. Even OJ was able to nail down a girlfriend who looked like a clone of the wife he already murdered. "Dumbest woman alive" doesn't even begin to describe her. I guess there really is "someone for everyone."

Next, we have a "chocolate-eater" by trade.

Hey, we're on the same career track. That's a good start.

"I'm looking for the Alpha and Omega. Shame I'm a beta."

Is incoherence a side-effect of antioxidants?

"On the other hand that gumdrops frootyloops builder's crack cheesecake surprise. If you know what I mean. And I think you do."

Maybe I would understand what the hell you're talking about if I had also dropped acid this morning, which you clearly have.

"I think you've been saving while I've been spending."

You have been spending too much dough on LSD, Crack Boy. Call me when you come down from your heroin binge, and keep your frootyloop surprises to yourself.

And the award for the worst grammar goes to...

"Here I'm is!"

Here I'm is. Here I'm is? Say that ten times quickly. I bet you can't do it. I give the man props for turning the easiest expression into a jumbled mess. Drop the "is" and the contraction and you'll be in business, buddy: Here I am! Is that so difficult? This man was awarded a bachelor's degree, according to his profile. If that's truly the case, even if he received a bachelor's in basket-weaving, the university should be boarded and wrapped judiciously in yellow caution tape. His professors, his parents, his friends, his coworkers and every person he has ever met have failed him.

"Am trying to become a more avid reader..."

There are not enough books in the world to save you. Give up now.

Never fear, we've now come to Mr. Fix-It, a quality engineer who "[fixes] stuff and makes things better."

I can now breathe a sigh of relief. Here's the man who is going to kiss it and make it better. He's a solid, respectable guy.

"The last four funerals I went too...I had people laughing...yes actually laughing their ever-loving asses off."

Oh for f*ck's sake. I don't think I'd be bragging about my penchant for turning a mourning into a comedic performance. Classy. It's one thing to laugh at a funeral. It's another thing to purposefully use every funeral you go to as a standup act. What kind of jokes do you tell at a funeral anyway? "A priest, a gravedigger and a dead guy all walk into a bar..." Ugh. (I'm not even going to mention his misuse of the word "too." Oh wait...)

Here we go! Frootyloops has a match! It's a shame he's not gay, especially with a name like Frootyloops. The headline of his perfect male counterpart reads, "Lets trip together."

First, let's learn how to use apostrophes. Then, I'll give you Cheesecake Surprise's number, and you two can have a field day with some shrooms. I will even throw in some Ghirardelli squares just so you leave me alone.

The tripper is a "waste water technicition."

Has he been DRINKING the waste water? He can't spell technician and he is one. I fear for the future of this country.

I also fear for the mindless girl who believes the next guy's shtick. "Just know this...I am a God among men when it comes to satisfying a woman...The thralls of exstacy and pleasure go beyond any definition of such words or ideas."

Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha hah ah ahhahhahahahahahaa! This divorced locksmith looks like a greasy chump. I'd rather never have sex again than sleep with this delusional, ridiculous, egotistical sleezeball.

His tagline makes my brain hurt: Aragorn seeking Arwen: Where is my Ezer Kenegdo?

That's it. I'm going to die alone.

Fondly yours,

The Grammar Nazi

Chemistry.com Part 11: Consciousand focused

2009-08-13T12:42:00.000-07:00

"Consciousand focused," huh?

Conscious enough to hit the space bar between words? No? Okay. The saddest part is this guy's headline is the most interesting part of his profile. I think he meant to say "conscientious." Don't you? Conscious just means he's awake. I like my men awake on dates. It makes little things like conversation more palatable (and possible), unless he talks in his sleep, which is also fun because then you can ask him personal questions he wouldn't normally answer while awake. On second thought, I want my man unconscious. I like a challenge.

His profession? You guessed it: writer.

I found another anti-women's-rights macho man. "I don't believe men and women are equal. I want a woman who feels comfortable playing the role of a traditional partner." He's not interested in meeting a woman who is "overly fanatical about [her] career, [and her] 'independence'..."

He doesn't want a small thing like "personal freedom" to get in the way. He wants to take away your right to vote and turn you into a baby factory. Know your place, girlfriend! It's in the kitchen or the laundry room or the bedroom when he feels up to it. He also doesn't believe the female orgasm exists. What a ridiculous myth! Be sure to have that dry martini with two olives (Not one, not three, TWO!) ready when he walks in the door from work. Or else.

Can I just say I'm getting tired of the guys who jokingly refer to being potty trained? Here's one who is no exception: "I am fully pottie trained and haven't had an accident in years."

Cute. He can use the big boy chair, but he can't spell it. Plus, he'll only have another "accident" if he's really, really drunk.

"I am allergic to pain."

Wuss. (I know. I know. Pot meet kettle.)

"I get frustrated by ... being requested to push 1 on the telephone to listen to messages in English."

It's so difficult to push a button, isn't it? After one phone call to the credit card company, I just write-off going to the gym because I had to push sixteen whole buttons when asked for my account number. Someone hand me my water bottle and a towel. My index finger hurts.

What the hell is a "bag slinger?" That's what the next guy wrote as his profession.

I either envision someone pitching sandbags to create a wall, or tossing an old lady around at a nursing home. The latter is the more attractive of the two, but still leaves something to be desired.

On to a Brit who "has [his] green card."

He wants to reassure you that you don't have to marry him so he can stick around. Good thinking.

But then he says, "p.s. These are not good pics of me but the only ones I have right now. Much better in person. I do not need to wear glasses these are to stop the glare of my monitor at work."

Oh lordy. You don't have to make excuses! Plus, in his profile photo he's wearing glasses outdoors next to a big green fern that looks like it's going to swallow him from behind. He's nowhere near a computer screen. The glare off that foliage is blinding, I tell ya! Is there another word for "next!" I've used that one already.

"Love kids and politics?"

Yep, I love kids AND politics. Whenever I think of kids, I think of politics. They go hand-in-hand, don't they? Wars, health care, Legos, formula...

This professor teaches two classes: "One is on the political history of the nuclear disarmament movement going back to WWII."

Zzzzzzz...huh, what did you just say? You lost me.

The other is "the social and emotional challenges of children with developmental disabilities like autism."

Hence the children and politics comment. Wow, how did he end up teaching two such disparate college-level topics? Something tells me the conversations we'd have would be way out of my league. I like a smart man, and usually one who is smarter than me, but this guy would make me feel downright dumb.

Tommy is a "man for all seasons," but he only likes hippies. "The type of personality I am attracted to is becoming increasingly hard to find. I drive a 'status symbol' car, and have a 'status symbol career,' yet I like 'hippies.'"

And I thought I had problems. Single white yuppie seeks Janis Joplin. Just don't toke in my Mercedes because it will strip that new leather smell. We'll spend our nights in my Newport Beach mansion listening to Hendrix. I'll have my maid wash your tie-dye shirts. Champagne, caviar, incense and patchouli, baby.

Smooches,

The Grammar Nazi

Chemistry.com Part 10: Every Frog Needs a Princess

2009-08-10T13:20:00.000-07:00

The guy who wrote this tag line is not as unattractive as many of the guys I've come across on chemistry.com. I wonder why he considers himself a frog. Does he think he'll turn into Brad Pitt if the right girl kisses him? I'll get Angie on the phone. He's a "sucker for a woman with a point of view."

It doesn't matter what your point of view is, as long as you have one. You can be passionate about banning classic literature, leading protests in front of university libraries. That's okay by him. He just likes a woman with a bullhorn and a loud voice.

He likes "foot rubs and sweet nothings over the phone."

The boy has talent. He can massage your toes via voicemail. Count me in.

He confesses that while he's writing this, he's watching a chick flick with Jude Law and Cameron Diaz, and of course, they "ended up happily ever after."

Of course they did! It's a romantic comedy, most of which have the same formula. Boy meets girl. Girl is initially annoyed with boy, even though he's gorgeous. Hilarity ensues while boy tries to win her over. She dates or pines after the wrong boy in the meantime, and doesn't see the true love right in front of her face. They later have a moment in which she realizes her mistake. They kiss. Things are happy for a short time, and then he does something to piss her off, or there is a huge misunderstanding. They fight. They make up because he catches a taxi to the airport and runs to the gate to tell her he loves her before she can run off to take a new job in Paris. They live happily ever after. The end. (This is the storyline for every movie Katherine Heigl has ever made. It makes people who dislike change and reality happy. It's unoriginal, but it works.) Does Mr. Toad really believe this sort of thing happens in real life? Silly, deluded amphibian.

The next guy doesn't seem to be living in a dream world, but he's offbeat to say the least. "I don't do well around 'normals.'"

Of course not. Normals are boring. It's the crazies who make life interesting. Duh.

"I'ver never danced before in my life."

Never? Not even at a wedding when you were twelve and your mom forced you to wear a button-down shirt and slacks without holes in them?

"If you're into that (dancing), you're gonna have someone that dances like Frankenstein with a hemorrhoid flare-up and a sleepy foot as a partner."

But I thought you've never danced before. How do you know you're bad if you have never tried it? Somebody needs a lesson, but not from me.

I like the next guy. He's not picky. "I really am not interested in filtering out anybody..."

What he's saying is he's basically the opposite of me. I have yet to talk to anyone on this website. After what I've read, I even fear the guys who seem to be smart and interesting. What if they aren't who they claim to be? I'm a big chicken. I admit it. The idea of knowing anything about anyone based on a couple photos and a few paragraphs is asinine. Maybe I should give someone a chance.

Or not. Take this profile, for instance: "IM IN CONSTRUCTION BUT IT SUCKS SO BAD THIS YEAR!!!"

STOP YELLING. Please note this guy is 35, not 12, and does not look like he has a mental disability, which makes this next part mind-boggling:

"I DON'T THINK I CAN SAY ANY MORE BS...JUST WOULD LIKE TOO SEE REALLALITY AND ACTUALITY. I HAVE NO MORE TOO SAY, THIS RULE SUCKS. I HOPE I HAVE TYPD ENOUGH BUT I THINK NOT!

I would like to say, on record, that this man's third grade teacher should be taken out back and shot. Let's throw in his ninth grade English teacher too, just for good measure. Wow, just wow. Remember, I am PAYING for this sh*t. Oh wait. He lives in Huntington Beach. That explains a lot.

Take a deep breath and flip the page to Jack, who has "no sense of humor but [he's] working on it."

How do you "work on" getting a sense of humor if you don't have one to begin with? Can you imagine laughing at a movie or a column in the newspaper or your sister's jokes, and having this guy give a little half smile and a puzzled look that says, "I have no idea why you're chuckling?" That's probably the worst quality I could think of in a man, aside from the guy directly above this whose spelling of the word "reality" is so far off, it looks like it's written in some undecipherable Eastern European language.

Okay, last one for tonight. Here's a lawyer who has "about 8 kids."

About? As in, I have six kids with two (or three) different women, but I ran into another couple of girls who had kids nine months after I quit seeing them, so it's possible I have eight, or is it nine? I can't keep track. I only pay child support for two, but whatever.

"I have several aliases (each with its own criminal record)."

He's trying to be funny. I get that. But what if he's saying these outrageous things, and he really means them? We're sitting over here saying, "Oh, how clever. Ha ha ha," when really, he's a criminal with a million illegitimate kids.

"I think Shawshank Redemption was 'just ok.'"

Forget the herd of children, the unlawfulness and the whole Jason Bourne plethora of passports thing. How can he not like this movie? What's wrong with him? There's a lot I can put up with, but being ho-hum about Shawshank just isn't one of them.

Until next time,

The Grammar Nazi

Chemistry.com Part 9: Women are crazy. Men are stupid.

2009-08-06T13:05:00.000-07:00

Hey, I didn't say it. Roger did. I think he's right though, generally speaking. It's a wonder any couple ever gets together, stays together and remains happy. But we all keep trying, don't we? Suckers, the lot of us.

This sucker is reading about a digital designer in Torrance who doesn't "care so much about your past but rather how much [he] can trust you." Also, he prefers "no size queens."

*Choke.* Did he really just say that?

He follows that with, "I find it kinda hard to describe myself..."

I think you just did a good job of revealing a tiny, personal tidbit about yourself already, mister. You probably should have saved that special detail for a much later date, but there it is, all laid out on the slab for everyone to see - with a magnifying glass.

"I don't fool around."

Not surprising.

Okay, sorry. I'll stop.

Next, we have a couple of men who fall into the "way too soon to be here" category. My heart goes out to them. (I do too have a heart.) I think they should wait to date for awhile. What do you think?

"I am separated from my wife with an unclear future."

Notice he said separated, not divorced. This is a red flag to anyone who doesn't want to wear that special "rebound girl" label. I can just imagine what would happen after a few dates. The girl starts to open up, get comfortable with him and WHAM, he hits her with this: "My wife and I have decided to try to work things out for the kids." Ouch.

"I was asked to leave my home for something that makes sense. Five people cannot live in a two-bedroom townhouse."

Okay, I'm confused. This guy is a surgeon, so I think he can afford a bigger house, and I doubt his wife asked him to head for the hills because there just wasn't enough room for him at the kitchen table. So what's the deal? What did he do wrong, or what kind of crazy (see headline) b*tch is she? Sadly, I won't be sticking around long enough to find out the, no doubt, extensive back-story here.

The next rebounder is "recently divorced and [hasn't] dated in a very long time. I'm not anxious to get back into anything serious any time soon. I just want to go out and have a good time with some lovely ladies in my area."

He wants you to sleep with him to make him feel temporarily better about his dissolved marriage. That's okay if that's what you want, but if you want a boyfriend, run. Run far. Run quickly. This guy ain't ready yet. Set the timer for six to nine months. Poke him with a toothpick at that time to make sure he's not still raw inside. Hang in there, man. It gets better. Sort of. Okay, maybe not "better," but "different."

Next, Rico Suave wants someone who used to be a total whore, but is now ready to settle down, but not be boring. She should still be a total whore with just him. Here's what I mean:

"You were probably a playa in your day? so you know a thing or two by now. and you're NOT conservative or naive...but you're not a player anymore either...you might even be a lil' perv sometimes?"

See?

"you may even want to settle down? but not in a "stuffy" or "settling" way! right?"

Does settling down have to be equated with lame and boring? I don't think so, but I don't really know if I like the term "settling down" anyway, since it just makes life sound "over." I'm not sure if Mr. Suave is going to find what he's looking for exactly, but I wish him luck.

It's class clown time. This self-proclaimed child who doesn't want to grow up said he wrote some things about himself, but then thought they sounded too "shredded wheat." His words were lacking in the "frosty" department.

I wasn't allowed to have sugar cereals at home when I was a kid, so shredded wheat sounds peachy to me. But after reading what else he has to say, I think a day with Mr. Faux Hawk would be more Fruit Loops than Cheerios.

"I watch what I eat, exercise, and get enough sleep, but only so I can let my 'inner fat kid' run things from time to time."

Is that why you're holding a cake box in your photo? He's one of those rail thin freaks who can eat whatever he wants and not gain a pound, isn't he? I hate those people. I bet he'd set up camp in Willy Wonka's factory if we'd let him. Although, he has other interests:

"I am passionate about mountain biking, unicycling, working out, going to concerts, playing music, scrapbooking, dressing up and going out..."

Sing it with me. Which one of these kids is doing his own thing? Come on, can you tell which one? Scrapbooking? Somehow I don't picture the guy in the pink shirt and leather black tie gluing photos and glitter into a book. Call me crazy. Oh right, "women are crazy." I almost forgot.

Night,

The Grammar Nazi

Chemistry.com Part 8: Please No Drama Queens!

2009-08-05T17:22:00.000-07:00

Most of the profiles on chemistry.com expressly prohibit contact with any drama queens. For once, I am in complete agreement, and something these men say makes sense. Nobody likes a drama queen.

What doesn't make sense, however, is what Ralph says: "I won't make advances towards a woman no matter how attracted I am...I have girl friends but we respect each others space."

Level with me, Ralph. Have you ever kissed a girl on the mouth who wasn't your mother? Have you ever been on a date before? How do two people ever get together if no one makes a move? I'm guessing you can find this guy at a Star Trek convention, a comic book store or playing World of Warcraft in the privacy of his own home with a bevy of other online geeks on any given day. Poor Ralph. Hopefully someday he can scratch "hold hands with a female" off his bucket list.

It's a day of firsts on this lovely dating site because Jacob here "just recently bought [his] first microwave..."

Whoa, back up, June Cleaver. I'm still having trouble figuring out how I got through college without an email address, and Mr. 1950s Homemaker made it to 2009 without a microwave? Stunning. I don't know how anyone could survive without a microwave nowadays. What does he use to cook his food in? An oven? Sheesh. I bet he'd like to borrow my grandma's antique butter-churner. I'd also bet he uses a washboard to clean his clothes and saddles up a Clydesdale to get to work on the 405. Don't worry. Jacob will buy his first CD in ten years after he finally removes that 8-track player from his Pinto. Although, you might have trouble reaching him since he has a rotary-dial phone with a cord and no answering machine. It must be tough being Amish. Hit me up during Rumspringa, buddy.

I found a pair who would get along famously, if only we could match them up. Rod says, "I'm a foodie who likes to dine out and try different foods." Frank says, "Foodies beware. I am not."

What's curious to me isn't the fact that these two are complete opposites when it comes to their epicureal interests, or lack thereof. It's not that Rod likes caviar and creme brulee and Frank digs hot dogs and Cheez-Its. No, that's not what's fascinating. What's remarkable is that they both used the word "foodie" in their profiles. How random! And what is this "beware" threat? If you like gourmet meals, I'm going to smother you with a pillow in your sleep? I can only imagine what he'd do if he ever got his hands on Rachel Ray. Although, he might give her a break because of her professional affiliation with Dunkin Donuts. (As well he should. Have you ever had their coffee? It makes Starbucks' look like mud. Eng plug.)

Oscar considers himself "mildly sane" and "can wash the dishes better than you."

I doubt that, for am I am a dishwashing master. But let's go back to that "mildly sane" reference. From the looks of Oscar's photo, he seems like a relatively average guy. He's smiling. He dresses well. He's doesn't have any visible facial scars or other war injuries. Normal, right? Apparently not so, which makes me wonder about all the other guys who claim to be the "nice" ones, but look like the Unibomber's extended family. My trust issues are mounting being on this website; I don't think it's good for my mental health. By the time I've perused my last profile, I will be "mildly sane" too. Then maybe I'll consider dating Oscar. Until then...

There's always Bob. He "loves beer, bbq, and things that go fast."

From the looks of his photo, he loves beer most. He's holding a pint in front of his hammered, bug-eyed face. Vroom Vroom.

I'm trying not to nitpick about the bad grammar today, but I just can't pass this one up. The next unsuspecting butt of my jokes considers himself a "good person (a relax one)."

I'm a relax person too, one who considers herself excite, yet sometimes depress. ADD AN ED TO YOUR ADJECTIVE, FOOL. Okay, I feel better.

Here's another one, an entrepeneur who is "not for woossy's." He "dares you to try."

I dare you to try to stop me from beating my head against a stucco wall because of the misspelling of "woossy," and the apostrophe s on top of that. Come on, people. Really?

Our final entry today, boys and girls, is a man who "grew up with cats and birds." He says, "Hello, I am me" in his tag line.

Hello, Me! I am You. Wait. No, that's not right. It's also not right to grow up with cats and birds in the same house. (I just had a useless trivia moment: "Dogs and Cats living together!" Name that film. These guys are rubbing off on me.) Anyway, I wonder if any of those kitties ever pounced on any of those parakeets and finches in Darryl's house. That would be quite traumatizing for a kid. Now, if he grew up with monkeys and ferrets that would be cool. As it stands, I bet his mom is now a crazy animal hoarder whose house will be roped off as a result of an inordinate amount of animal feces, and the apple doesn't fall far from the perch, so I'm out.

Later,

The Grammar Nazi

Chemistry.com Part 7: Creepy is as Creepy Does

2009-08-03T14:35:00.000-07:00

It's creepy day on chemistry.com. Let's decide which man is the creepiest, shall we?

Here's one: "Pry me open, read me thoroughly...I am a very thick book waiting to be read cover to cover...IF you skip to the end, you'll miss the juicy details. (Tickleprods is the name and its the mail thats hot.)"

Okay, I am going to attempt to decipher what the hell just happened, while simultaneously dealing with crawling skin. "Pry me open" only leads me to imagine an unsanitary, messy surgical procedure involving scalpels, organs and blood. "Thick book" seems to denote the boy has some demons to work through, and judging from the slimeball photos, I don't really want to know any "juicy details."

With the first parenthesis, he totally lost me. What the hell is TICKLEPRODS and why is this man still walking the streets all willy nilly and free? "The mail is hot"? Huh? Is he referring to his hotmail email account? I have no idea. Let's just move on to Creepy Guy #2.

Mr. Tickleprod would no doubt be interested in the burgeoning career of the adult film producer on the next page. Instead of telling us anything about himself, other than his dubious profession, this man rants about how an online personal ad doesn't match him with relevant people.

Well, not if you bitch the whole time, jackhole. (Again, I see the irony in my words.) You only wrote a short paragraph and didn't tell us anything about yourself. Not that I'd hit up a porn producer anyway. Not in a million years. Especially after this headline:

"You be six and I be nine."

That's the most classless thing I've read so far. In fact, I am going to go out on a limb and dub this guy the winner of the Ultimate Creep on Chemistry.com Award. It's an early decision, but I'm confident nothing else will compare. That won't stop me from looking for more, of course.

(The sad thing is that now I'm HOPING to find the weirdos instead of the decent, attractive men. My whole reason for being on the site in the first place has been trumped by the possibility of finding freaks to bag on. When I opened this profile, it felt like I'd been panning for gold and found a two pound nugget.)

But let's not stop with him. Ultimate Creep Runner-up has to go to the guy who holds a beer in his photo and posts this tag line: "You should be kissed, and often, by someone who knows how."

True.

BUT, my skin is crawling yet again looking at this freelancer's photos. The last thing I want in my head is an image of him kissing me, and often. Gag.

"Imagine the shyest nerd you know in the body of a tall, tattooed biker type."

Oh baby. Oh baby. Oh baby. Dinner has now risen to my throat.

This next little gem makes me laugh though:

"Via film criticism I've come to be known as sort of a journalist..."

What's a "sort of" journalist? Hey, I'm a "sort of" former piano player; I "sort of" used to be a ballet dancer, and I "sort of" speak and read French, but I'm not an expert by any stretch of the imagination. "Sort of" journalist makes it sound like he's "sort of" not employable. But, as usual, it gets worse because he's also...

"an actor in culty and horror movies..."

Culty? I bet if this guy got together with the porn producer, they could make "sort of culty sex flicks." We need to arrange a meeting of minds and watch the creative magic find its way to homemade DVDs that get sold out of the back of someone's van. Let's make it happen. I'll have my people call his people, and they can call the other guy's people and blammo! See you at the Independent Spirit Awards.

"I'll do anything in front of a camera."

I rest my case.

Okay, here's my new favorite. (Did I already pick one before? Well, I lied.) "Loving, Fierce Man with Glasses" is the headline. The photo is a headshot of a guy with greasy hair; his blue eyes stare right through you, and he's not wearing any glasses.

Why is he a man with glasses when there are no glasses present? That makes no sense. Misrepresentation! Maybe it should have read, "Loving, Fierce Man with Contacts." I helped a brother out though and drew some glasses on his face. There. That's better. (The piercing stare is why he falls into the "creepy" category, by the way.)

The next guy is a teacher and, clearly, a poet of the highest caliber. "The sweetness of life is ours to unveil."

The food that had risen to my throat is now in my mouth. Yack-o-licious.

"Observing how my reflection in the eyes of my nieces calls me to my highest self."

Is this guy for real? Quick! Hand me that trashcan over there.

"Someone whose attention when combined with my own creates miraculous reverberations which sow the seeds of a life overflowing with the highest possibilities to heal the broken paradise we call home."

Wordy much? To quote David Cross again, this romance god "took the hyperbole pills."I haven't barfed this much since I had one too many margaritas in Laguna and left my mark on PCH. What does he teach, I wonder. Ten Days to a Cheesier You?

Excuse me. I have to go brush my teeth.

Faithfully yours,

The Grammar Nazi

Chemistry.com Part 6: Fun with Profile Taglines

2009-07-30T12:21:00.000-07:00

For my chemistry.com profile tagline, I used a funny quotation my oldest friend once said to me about our younger years. Here are some of my favorite taglines from men wanting to get the attention of women:

maybe we can help each other

Help each other do what? Not die alone?

Wookin pa nub.

...in all da wong paces. Wookin pa nub.
At least he remembers when Eddie Murphy was still funny.

Yes, I even have a brother.

Is he single too? Two for the price of one! Sign me up!

What's in your closet?

Skeletons. Is that the answer you were looking for? Or were you referring to my sexual orientation? It could be that he literally wants to know what's in my closet, in which case: clothes, my collection of vinyl, shoes, roller blades, a tennis racket, ironing board, photos, towels...

The Glass is Half-Full

If you have a full glass of water, and you drink half of it, half of it is now gone. Doesn't that mean you only have half left? Hence, the glass is half-empty. That's just the way I see it. I can't help it.

Dream out loud

How about I take a nap instead? My subconscious dreams are much more tantalizing than anything I ever dream up when I'm awake.

What are you having?

A massive heart attack?

Looking for the co-author to my life's Novel

Once upon a time, there was a putz who capitalized the word novel. The title of your novel is "Novel"? Maybe the cover of his book will be white with a light blue stripe down the side. Generic Life by Man. If you enjoy that, also read Book by Girl.

Aloha, Mr. Hand

"Just what the hell do you think you're doing?"
"Learning about Cuba and having some food."
See, I can be a vessel for useless pop culture trivia too!

I don't want to achieve immortality through my work. I want to achieve it through not dying.

If you plan to be immortal, "not dying" is a good start, but unless you're planning to have your body frozen until such time that science may bring you back to life, chances are good that you're going to die, either through old age, cancer, heart disease, drowning, electrocution, getting hit by a car, choking, or perhaps your parachute won't open when you jump out of a plane. In any case, this 35-year-old man can expect a life-expectancy of about 50 more years if he's lucky. Make good use of your time, my friend. Your work will be all we have when you're gone.

Artist Seeks Muse.
This would be a great line, if in fact the rest of the profile suggested this person to be an "artist." He struggles after two sentences to come up with anything more than "1400 more characters." Writing an entire paragraph is more difficult and painful for this stunner than it is for a third grader. I think he needs more than a muse.

A Fool in the Rain...

It really doesn't rain much here in Southern California, so 95% of the time, I guess this guy is just a dry fool wishing for some precipitation.

I get up early to have my coffee on the roof before work and watch the light change.

So you're saying you get up at the buttcrack of dawn? I don't sleep in anymore, but I don't get up in the middle of the night. That's just crazy talk.

Yinyangdingdong!

What?

But Santa, I can explain!

Santa is a figment of your imagination, or didn't your mommy tell you that when you were ten? Stay on the naughty list all you want. No one will notice.

One hot candle just looking for the right match...

All together now. Deep breath and groooooooaaaaannnnnnn.

Once more unto the breach...

Hey, King Henry V, don't do Shakespeare. Just don't.

Charlie Kaufman meets Brian Eno

I think my head just exploded. That's one creative, freakish guy right there.

Light Skin is Back!

Was it ever missing?

Surely You Must Be Joking! No, and don't call me Shirley

Have you ever seen a grown man naked? Have you ever been in a Turkish prison?
Ha! Take that, Movie Quote Guy.

good man 4 good women

Tonto like women. Women make Tonto happy. Must have women. (Do you notice his use of plural? He's not looking for a good woman. He's looking for a whole herd of them.)

Creative artist, musician and hard body all rolled into one?

This sentence is in the form of a question, and the answer is a resounding, "Hell no." You should see the photos. He looks like he's wearing make-up in one of them (and not in the cool tranny way); in the other, he has a trampy girl on his arm. Is that a visual cue that if one gets involved with him, he expects threesomes? Classy, dude. Only one word comes to mind, but I can't say it because it's even too mean for me. Here's a hint: It starts with a "d" and ends with a "g", and "oucheba" is in the middle.

Smooches,

The Grammar Nazi

Chemistry.com Part 5: Got Emotions?

2009-07-28T13:21:00.000-07:00

No, I don't. I'm a robot. As is the case with Ryan Seacrest, new battery packs are inserted regularly into the spot where my spine should be. At night, my roommate hits the "off" button and stores me in the closet with the ironing board and dead hookers. Do I have emotions? Is that your tag line, buddy? Really?

After his headline, Captain Obvious tries to reassure his readers: "Don't think that I am weak, I am in a career that the weak get gobbled up." He also says, "There are many other layers, but you'll just have to find out."

Testy. Testy. One, two, three. Why would I think a total stranger is weak, and why would I care, honestly? I have nothing with which to venture a guess about this man's character, other than his defensiveness out of the gate, and his unwillingness to provide more details. I don't think I'll be finding out, as he suggests. I will just leave this tough, "stocky" guy alone.

I think it's bitter day at chemistry.com (and yes, I see the irony in that statement). Next up is a senior consultant who tells us about himself and then launches into this little tirade: "Oh, I'm sorry, I'm getting carried away. That's not what women want to hear. They want to hear about 20 inch rims on a new truck or about how I have so much money that I don't need to work..."

I could give two sh*ts about your chrome or your SUV. Are women really this materialistic? If so, I apologize on behalf of my gender because, while it's nice to have someone who takes care of me, love is never about money. Who hurt you? Your luggage is heavier than the 50 pounds allotted. You'll have to pay that extra $15 at LAX at the ticket counter. We'll just say our farewells at the security gate. Moving right along...

...to "the desert rat," whom I am sure also has a truck, but with much smaller rims. He's looking for a good "lab assistant."

Oh dear. I guess the person who answers this call will have to agree to trek through the cacti into the middle of nowhere for some good old-fashioned experimentin'. I will bring the goggles I swiped from 7th grade shop class. You bring the microscope, slides and samples of whatever bacteria you plan to magnify (and spread?). Sounds like a swell date. Show me your Petri dish and I'll show you mine.

Tom "believes in karma" and "caramel."

Cute little play on words. Too bad I don't like caramel. Dark chocolate or bust.

He's "sarcastic" (bonus!) and "goofy" (I can hang with goofy) and has a "head full of useless trivia."

I see he was part of that dating profile drum circle I mentioned previously. It's an epidemic!

He wants a "girly girl" who "can also fend off an attack by angry ninjas. After all, angry ninjas are hiding everywhere."

I like this guy's sense of humor, but I don't really think of myself as a "girly girl," but if I came across a group of angry ninjas, I'd probably cry like one (a girl, not a ninja).

Wait, I thought zombies were hiding everywhere, not ninjas. At least that's what David Sedaris tells me, and I have to go with David on this one because, well, just because. Sorry, man.

I'm not sure what to think about Ed, whose first sentence is, "I am willing to move for the right person."

I have some advice for Ed about his desperate eagerness to open his dating pool to any woman in the continental United States. Be sure the person you fall for lives somewhere you are going to fit in. Take it from me. If he's not careful, one day he will find his Mission Viejo-bred butt in the land of humidity and rednecks, where there's rampant racism and a mindblowing lack of saltwater (Cough. The South. Cough. Cough.). Worse yet, it will be easier to find Waldo in Little Five Points than a decent margarita anywhere in the Land of Confederate Flags, one that doesn't leave a cheap after-taste reminiscent of sulfuric acid. There are plenty of lovely women in California and plenty of scrumptious Cadillacs on the rocks with salt here. Think locally, my friend.

That's my advice for the day.

Cheers,
The Grammar Nazi

Chemistry.com Part 4: Life is like retractable pencils?

2009-07-27T11:55:00.000-07:00

Retractable pencils? How so? You don't lead with that title and then not explain, Mr. Techie. He doesn't mention pencils once in his profile after the headline. Strike one. (Do you see the excitement on my face after almost two weeks of this nonsense? I don't know how much more I can take.)

Computer Boy continues, "I'm also very partial to good writing skills."

I may take back that strike. What else ya got?

"You'll get many extra points if your profile contains complete sentences with capital letters and punctuation...if you don't understand why that's important, then please move along with my blessing and sympathies."

Did I mention how much I love you? Thank you! Thank you! Thank you! You took the words right out of my mouth. Base hit on the second pitch. Where have you been all my life, Mr. Software Company. My heart is skipping rope: Cinderella dressed in yella went upstairs to kiss a fella...

"But of course, all that pales in comparison to the really important things in life. Like pop culture trivia."

F*CK. You've been reading all the other boys' profiles, haven't you? Damn lemmings. You were just tagged out at second. And I had such high hopes. No, I will not take your little film quotes quiz at the end of your profile. That would mean I'd have to actually talk to you to get the answers. Who needs you when I have Google? By the way, "Two dollars" isn't really a sufficient quote. "I want my two dollars!" is more explicit, and yes, I've seen Better Off Dead too. Where's Lane Meyer when I need him? Or Lloyd Dobler, or Rob Gordon, or any other character John Cusack has ever inhabited? We want THAT guy with a boom box, a trench coat and some Peter Gabriel action.

How does one go from the game show host to "One Sober Male"? This photo-less chap "isn't too demanding emotionally."

Well, thank heavens for that. Look, there is absolutely nothing wrong with being sober. My hat is off to you as I sip my cab. Cheers. Lord knows I have spent exorbitant amounts of time in the last two decades babysitting more than one inebriated boy who has passed out on the sidewalk, puked in my car and fallen asleep on me. Literally. Come to think of it, I should get some sort of Medal of Patience and Stupidity. For real. But, leading with "One Sober Male" exudes dreariness; years of boredom flash before my eyes. Life is too short. Buh-bye.

Ralph is "an excercise in juxtaposition" (and bad spelling). He's a complicated cat, that one. In his profile photo, he too wears black sunglasses at his cubicle and throws up dual peace signs, as if to give the ladies a virtual, "Wass up?" (Wannabe gang guys are so hot.) He's "smart-ish, Slapnuts Funny and Attractive-ish." He "doesn't read but [he] is deceptively intelligent."

Let me get this straight. He's bright-ish, but the layperson wouldn't be able to tell just by, say, talking to him and becoming acquainted with him. Don't let that dumb-ish exterior fool you, girls. He'll make up for his lack of book smarts with his clever-ish wit that will make you want to punch him in the gnads. (That's what "slapnuts" means, right?) Forgive me if I want a man who has the ability to read. Is that asking too much? Ish.

The next guy is a "raconteur" and "gadabout" who is "in search of a better mousetrap."

Remember, he's the cat. We're the mice. His trap is a little rusty and he has run out of holey cheese with which to lure us. Did I mention he also didn't include a profile photo? (Do any women consider a guy without a photo? I'm just curious. Maybe I'm shallow and pessimistic, but when I see that default cartoon face with the empty brown eyes, I immediately envision the worst case scenario. Think Vincent Schiavelli, only creepy. Surely Mr. Meow is better looking than the freak my mind conjures up.)

"I have a little bit of that 30-second game that you need in order to survive in the LA meat market."

I'm so done with games. In fact, I've never liked them, nor tried to play them, at least not effectively. Maybe that's my problem. Let's play this game: I'll be Tom. You be Jerry. Now run into that hole over there and find the swiss I left for you. Good mouse.

One more today, and then I promise to leave you alone: Keith is an actor.

In Los Angeles? No! Really? Get out! You know what David Cross says about transplants in Los Angeles? There are millions of people who are "all gonna make it." They "have so much talent. They were so good in their high school productions of Brigadoon and Annie." You know how many people David Cross thinks are going to make it? "Like 13." I hope Keith has a backup plan. He is, after all, 37.

Keith "dusts off pretty well. [He's] had his fair share of dinner parties, drinks, and schmoozefests."

Barf.

Toward the end of his profile, he says, "I'm bored writing this. Are you bored reading it?"

Do you have to ask?

Yours forever,
The Grammar Nazi