Y'all are Utarded.

I love words. I'm a real lexiphite. (Ironically, I'm pretty sure that's not a real word.) I also love learning new words. I subscribe to dictionary.com's Word of the Day email and I try to use the word naturally during that day. (Usually people can tell when I've learned a new word because after using it, I look extraordinarily pleased with myself.)

I also love grammar and I use correct grammar whenever appropriate. My elder sister may argue that anytime is the right time for correct grammar, but someone once told me that she didn’t mind that I spoke with proper grammar but she did mind that I had to look so insufferably satisfied with myself when I did so. (It’s okay, Mom. All is forgiven.) And, yes, I know that there is a glaringly obvious grammatical error in my entry titled “Excellence” but I’m not changing it so you can stop emailing me, for the everliving love! (Note to sticklers: I very rarely proofread my entries before posting. Until recently, I figured the only people who read this were my mom and my adoptive father, Donny.)

One of my greatest joys is hearing someone pronounce a word correctly, especially one that is oft mispronounced. It is quite painful to me when I hear someone using a word improperly.

And then I moved to the Land of the Missing Syllables. In Utah, it is quite common for someone to say that he backed his car out of the “grahdge” and then his “famly” took their “anmul” to the “vetinarian” who was so “ignert” and loved looking at himself in a “meer.”

Holy Crackers! It makes me crazy! I never correct people who do so, but I whimper inside every time.


P.S. I just looked it up. The word I wanted is not lexiphile. It's linguaphile.