An engineer left this comment today on the manuscript I gave him to review:
"I do not understand the symbol that looks like a big lower-case u written the size of a capital."
In other words, a capital U. He doesn't understand a capital letter U.
I love my job.
Showing posts with label Grammer/speeling/punkt'ua:tion. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Grammer/speeling/punkt'ua:tion. Show all posts
Monday, November 28, 2011
Tuesday, November 30, 2010
The Department Of Redundancy Department
There is a definition listed in the book I am proofreading right now for "Tolerant Tolerance."
Editor Cat is editing.
Editor Cat is editing.
Sunday, April 18, 2010
Thursday, February 4, 2010
Lame Claims To Fame: Volume V
Flashback: January 2008...
So, for those of you who don't travel in these sorts of circles, the Tony award-winning Broadway musical The 25th Annual Putnam County Spelling Bee will be closing on January 20th after a two-and-a-half year run. Upon hearing this news about three weeks ago — especially as an actress, a singer, and the bearer of an English degree, who lives for all things quirky — I was kicking myself for having missed the chance to see it.
Until I realized that I have a sister who does travel in these sorts of circles.
And who happened to be paying attention during this particular lament of mine, and who remembered it come Christmas present-buying time.
Which is how I came to be onstage with the cast, under the spotlights of the Circle in the Square Theater, beaming from ear to ear during yesterday evening's performance.
But let me back up a bit...
Technically, this is not the first time I've been in this sort of situation. For my 20th birthday, my mom took me to see Grease (with Rosie O'Donnell — remember that??), and when I made a request to the guy playing Vince Fontaine, who was spinning rock 'n' roll records before the show, I mentioned that it was my birthday, and he pulled me up onstage to dance (of course, I can't prove this because when Mom tried to take a picture of it, security confiscated her camera). And when I had front-row seats for the Broadway revival of The Rocky Horror Show about 8 years ago, I managed to jump onstage to dance with one of the Phantoms during the Time Warp — but then again, we are talking about Rocky Horror.* As for the Bee, I've only heard rumors of audience participation, so I'm not getting my hopes up.
*Case in point: When I saw it again the next year (with Sebastian Bach — remember that??) and somehow ended up being the only one in the audience who yelled out (per "the script") "What's your favorite toothpaste?" right before the word "gleam" in "I Can Make You A Man," and then "Mine's Crest — I like the PUMP!" right after it, Terrance Mann as Dr. Frank broke character to look right at me and shout back "Get your own damn show!"
The lobby of the theater is decorated like the hallways of a real middle school. Handwritten signs and posters advertising bake sales and club meetings, "Read to Achieve!" and all those other cheesy inspirational slogans plastered everywhere, actual rows of lockers, and — my personal favorite — a "Putnam County Lady Pirhanas — 1998 Field Hockey Champions" banner hanging from the ceiling. Against one wall is a "Volunteer Speller Registration" table, so, curious, I get in line. The cute gay boy with the clipboard asks me my name, where I'm from, if I'm a good speller, if I ever do word puzzles, if I think I'd be nervous on a stage in front of about 500 people. I feel like answering every question with, "Are you kidding me?? Do you even know who you're talking to here??" He thanks me for volunteering and I am then told that only four people will be picked to be a part of the show. Four people out of about 500. Everyone waiting in the lobby has been on this line. There are still people waiting behind me. Registration eventually closes and they have to turn people away. When they come back out to announce the winners, I try to ready myself for the inevitable disappointment.
My name is the first one they call. >:)
My fellow spellers are another girl, about my age, maybe younger, with dark curly hair, who is actually taller than me (!); a precocious and adorably geek-chic, 10- or 11-year-old boy named Jack; and an older, somewhat Middle Eastern-looking man with a name I'm not even going to attempt to spell. Hopefully, it won't be the word I'm given during the competition. We are escorted to a small backstage office full of technical equipment for our "orientation." We are told where to come onstage, what to do once we're up there, how to adjust the microphone. We are told not to bring any electronic devices with us, to just react naturally and enjoy the show, and that the actors will help us. It is repeated several times, with great emphasis, that before we spell the word we're given, no matter how hard or easy a word it may be, we MUST ask two questions: "Can I have the definition, please?" and "Can you please use it in a sentence?" — and in that EXACT order. Then we are instructed very explicitly to NOT try to be funny: "Don't tell jokes or stay up there longer than you need to when you're done spelling. As funny as it may seem in your head, trust me, it's not going to be that funny. There are trained professionals up there for that; they don't need your help."
On my way back to my seat, I decide to try and play it like I wasn't picked after all, like I was just in the bathroom the whole time or something, so it will be a total surprise to my mom when they call me up, but she knows right away: "Well, first of all, you didn't come back in with the rest of them, and second, you're grinning like an idiot."
I am so excited I barely even hear the opening number; I'm focused solely on waiting for my cue. The "moderator" finally announces my name and the whole theater starts rustling and whispering and turning around to look as I jump out of my seat, plow past the rest of my row and skip down the aisle...then practically trip onto the stage. Yep, I definitely belong here — I am a true dork.
My number, as indicated by the enormous square of bright yellow cardboard hung around my neck, is 28 — coincidentally, the same number Al Sharpton was given when he was a guest speller during the Tony Awards performance. "Chip," the Cub Scout and "reigning champion," shows me where to sit on the bleachers. There's a musical number, I'm involved in a sight gag which I pull off like a pro, two actors are called up to spell, and then it's my turn.
I make my way a little nervously to the microphone at the front of the stage as the moderator perkily announces, "Miss Godan was voted 'Miss Congeniality' by her class for inviting the entire football team to her slumber party!" I play along with a demure little smile, and the audience cracks up. Man, I am loving this!
And then my word is "pakapu."
I am crestfallen. I have never heard this word before in my life. At least the audience seems to be enjoying/sharing in my reaction of utter confusion. I ask for the definition, as instructed (apparently it's some sort of Chinese lottery). I ask for a sentence, but the audience starts laughing so loudly I don't even hear it. Not like it would have even helped — the girl before me whose word was "jihad" got something like, "Mohammed always prepared the camel meat fresh each day at Ahmed's Jihad Deli."
[On a similar note: A few rounds later, another volunteer speller gets the word "cow," and sheepishly asks — as he's been told he absolutely MUST do — for the definition and for use in a sentence. The responses to these questions are, respectively: "It's a cow!" and "Spell the word 'cow'!"]
I tentatively repeat the word ("pock-a-poo...?"), then string together some reasonable-sounding letters and glance back at the judges hopefully.
*ding*
"I'm sorry, that's incorrect."
Devastation — I am the first contestant to be eliminated.
My mom tells me later that my face at that moment was perfect, that I really looked like a sad little girl. The audience gets a big laugh out of the "comfort counselor" — a large, thugged-out black man who is supposedly on parole and performing his "community service" — as he gives me a hug and a juice box before sending me back to my seat. At least I'm the first person to get "comforted," I think; the joke hasn't gotten old yet. Strangely, I do take some comfort in this. And maybe now I'll actually be able to hear the show — when you're onstage, everyone is singing with their backs to you, and I'm part-deaf as it is. And I was getting thirsty...
Afterwards, for the whole walk back to the train station, I can't stop giggling and asking did I sound ok and are you sure it was funny? I mean, people were laughing, right? I am so ridiculously proud of myself I'm practically floating down the streets of Manhattan.
I owe Courtney something REALLY good for Christmas next year. :)
So, for those of you who don't travel in these sorts of circles, the Tony award-winning Broadway musical The 25th Annual Putnam County Spelling Bee will be closing on January 20th after a two-and-a-half year run. Upon hearing this news about three weeks ago — especially as an actress, a singer, and the bearer of an English degree, who lives for all things quirky — I was kicking myself for having missed the chance to see it.
Until I realized that I have a sister who does travel in these sorts of circles.
And who happened to be paying attention during this particular lament of mine, and who remembered it come Christmas present-buying time.
Which is how I came to be onstage with the cast, under the spotlights of the Circle in the Square Theater, beaming from ear to ear during yesterday evening's performance.
But let me back up a bit...
Technically, this is not the first time I've been in this sort of situation. For my 20th birthday, my mom took me to see Grease (with Rosie O'Donnell — remember that??), and when I made a request to the guy playing Vince Fontaine, who was spinning rock 'n' roll records before the show, I mentioned that it was my birthday, and he pulled me up onstage to dance (of course, I can't prove this because when Mom tried to take a picture of it, security confiscated her camera). And when I had front-row seats for the Broadway revival of The Rocky Horror Show about 8 years ago, I managed to jump onstage to dance with one of the Phantoms during the Time Warp — but then again, we are talking about Rocky Horror.* As for the Bee, I've only heard rumors of audience participation, so I'm not getting my hopes up.
*Case in point: When I saw it again the next year (with Sebastian Bach — remember that??) and somehow ended up being the only one in the audience who yelled out (per "the script") "What's your favorite toothpaste?" right before the word "gleam" in "I Can Make You A Man," and then "Mine's Crest — I like the PUMP!" right after it, Terrance Mann as Dr. Frank broke character to look right at me and shout back "Get your own damn show!"
The lobby of the theater is decorated like the hallways of a real middle school. Handwritten signs and posters advertising bake sales and club meetings, "Read to Achieve!" and all those other cheesy inspirational slogans plastered everywhere, actual rows of lockers, and — my personal favorite — a "Putnam County Lady Pirhanas — 1998 Field Hockey Champions" banner hanging from the ceiling. Against one wall is a "Volunteer Speller Registration" table, so, curious, I get in line. The cute gay boy with the clipboard asks me my name, where I'm from, if I'm a good speller, if I ever do word puzzles, if I think I'd be nervous on a stage in front of about 500 people. I feel like answering every question with, "Are you kidding me?? Do you even know who you're talking to here??" He thanks me for volunteering and I am then told that only four people will be picked to be a part of the show. Four people out of about 500. Everyone waiting in the lobby has been on this line. There are still people waiting behind me. Registration eventually closes and they have to turn people away. When they come back out to announce the winners, I try to ready myself for the inevitable disappointment.
My name is the first one they call. >:)
My fellow spellers are another girl, about my age, maybe younger, with dark curly hair, who is actually taller than me (!); a precocious and adorably geek-chic, 10- or 11-year-old boy named Jack; and an older, somewhat Middle Eastern-looking man with a name I'm not even going to attempt to spell. Hopefully, it won't be the word I'm given during the competition. We are escorted to a small backstage office full of technical equipment for our "orientation." We are told where to come onstage, what to do once we're up there, how to adjust the microphone. We are told not to bring any electronic devices with us, to just react naturally and enjoy the show, and that the actors will help us. It is repeated several times, with great emphasis, that before we spell the word we're given, no matter how hard or easy a word it may be, we MUST ask two questions: "Can I have the definition, please?" and "Can you please use it in a sentence?" — and in that EXACT order. Then we are instructed very explicitly to NOT try to be funny: "Don't tell jokes or stay up there longer than you need to when you're done spelling. As funny as it may seem in your head, trust me, it's not going to be that funny. There are trained professionals up there for that; they don't need your help."
On my way back to my seat, I decide to try and play it like I wasn't picked after all, like I was just in the bathroom the whole time or something, so it will be a total surprise to my mom when they call me up, but she knows right away: "Well, first of all, you didn't come back in with the rest of them, and second, you're grinning like an idiot."
I am so excited I barely even hear the opening number; I'm focused solely on waiting for my cue. The "moderator" finally announces my name and the whole theater starts rustling and whispering and turning around to look as I jump out of my seat, plow past the rest of my row and skip down the aisle...then practically trip onto the stage. Yep, I definitely belong here — I am a true dork.
My number, as indicated by the enormous square of bright yellow cardboard hung around my neck, is 28 — coincidentally, the same number Al Sharpton was given when he was a guest speller during the Tony Awards performance. "Chip," the Cub Scout and "reigning champion," shows me where to sit on the bleachers. There's a musical number, I'm involved in a sight gag which I pull off like a pro, two actors are called up to spell, and then it's my turn.
I make my way a little nervously to the microphone at the front of the stage as the moderator perkily announces, "Miss Godan was voted 'Miss Congeniality' by her class for inviting the entire football team to her slumber party!" I play along with a demure little smile, and the audience cracks up. Man, I am loving this!
And then my word is "pakapu."
I am crestfallen. I have never heard this word before in my life. At least the audience seems to be enjoying/sharing in my reaction of utter confusion. I ask for the definition, as instructed (apparently it's some sort of Chinese lottery). I ask for a sentence, but the audience starts laughing so loudly I don't even hear it. Not like it would have even helped — the girl before me whose word was "jihad" got something like, "Mohammed always prepared the camel meat fresh each day at Ahmed's Jihad Deli."
[On a similar note: A few rounds later, another volunteer speller gets the word "cow," and sheepishly asks — as he's been told he absolutely MUST do — for the definition and for use in a sentence. The responses to these questions are, respectively: "It's a cow!" and "Spell the word 'cow'!"]
I tentatively repeat the word ("pock-a-poo...?"), then string together some reasonable-sounding letters and glance back at the judges hopefully.
*ding*
"I'm sorry, that's incorrect."
Devastation — I am the first contestant to be eliminated.
My mom tells me later that my face at that moment was perfect, that I really looked like a sad little girl. The audience gets a big laugh out of the "comfort counselor" — a large, thugged-out black man who is supposedly on parole and performing his "community service" — as he gives me a hug and a juice box before sending me back to my seat. At least I'm the first person to get "comforted," I think; the joke hasn't gotten old yet. Strangely, I do take some comfort in this. And maybe now I'll actually be able to hear the show — when you're onstage, everyone is singing with their backs to you, and I'm part-deaf as it is. And I was getting thirsty...
Afterwards, for the whole walk back to the train station, I can't stop giggling and asking did I sound ok and are you sure it was funny? I mean, people were laughing, right? I am so ridiculously proud of myself I'm practically floating down the streets of Manhattan.
I owe Courtney something REALLY good for Christmas next year. :)
Wednesday, December 9, 2009
Pedantry
Texts From Last Night (919): Learn some fucking English or leave me alone! "Your" is for something that belongs to you, like "your herpes." And "you're" is a contraction for "you are," like "you're not sleeping with me."
8 Simple Rules For Answering My Personal Ad
After several disastrous, soul-corroding attempts, I have vowed to never post an ad to an online dating site ever again. For those of you still bravely and blindly pressing on, allow me to provide a brief summary of the ordeals I've endured through my vast and completely aggravating experience.
1. Don't be old enough to be my dad.
Hope may spring eternal, but I am under no obligation to indulge that hope. If I took the time to specify an age range, it's there for a reason. If that range is, say, 29-39, and you're, like, 28 or 41, I'll let you slide. But if you're 56, and you have the gall to even start off your reply with, "I know I'm too old for you, but...," please, don't bother. I am not here to propel anyone's mid-life crisis; you're just wasting both of our time. Same goes if you are young enough to be my son: I am admittedly a rather ferocious cougar, but if you're 22, still live at home, address me as "shorty," and use the word (and I use that term loosely) "chillax," I may have to slap you.
2. Don't be confrontational. Or a douche.
If my Match.com profile mentions I'm a die-hard Mavs fan, poking fun at Dirk's lack of defensive skills is acceptable. However, if my quirky Craigslist ad says I'm seeking "a skinny boy with glasses and tattoos," it is not acceptable to respond "Excuse me but I am a MAN not a boy and I'd never be dumb enough to put something permanent on my body but to each his own." What, exactly, are you expecting to accomplish by insulting me and confirming in a single sentence that we have nothing in common? I mean, I know I'm a hot little number, but I purposely did not post in the "casual encounters" section, and I somehow doubt that I am so tempting you're willing to overlook our completely divergent personalities just to go to a movie. There's also a reason I've never been religious — I don't approve of preachers.
3. Don't send me porn.
I will tolerate topless pics if you are standing on a beach with a surfboard or showing me a chest tattoo [see "a skinny boy with glasses and tattoos"]. I will not tolerate topless pics of you flexing in front of your car or that you took of yourself in the mirror with your face blurred out, no matter how tight your abs. And there is NO WAY I will stand for a cock shot, especially by way of introduction when there's not even a message attached. I mean, really? Has this approach ever worked for anyone, ever? And if you're just trying to be offensive, well, sorry, honey, but I've seen one before. And it was bigger than yours.
4. Speak English.
This is an actual reply that I actually received:
"I read u n like u. You look very smart n it is good for girls like to talk with u 646xxxxxxx"
Ah, yes, the irony of telling someone they look smart...like that. Folks, I am an editor. I proofread for a living. And I weep for the future.
I'm not asking everyone to live up to my professional standards, but if I have to decipher your response like it's some encrypted clue out of The DaVinci Code, you're probably not going to make it to Round 2. I know capitalization is kind of lax on the Interwebz, but at least punctuate your sentences so I know where they end and can puzzle some sort of sense out of them. And I know I'm guilty of some occasional acronym abuse myself — BTW, IMO, FWIW, DIAGF (look up that last one — it’s awesome), and, yeah, ok, sometimes I write "gonna" and "wanna." But "and," "are," and "you" are only 3 letters each. C'mon now, people.
Pointers for some added pet peeves:
* There are 3 periods in an ellipsis, 4 if it's ending the sentence. Not 27...not 14...just 3.
* Quotation marks only go around quotations, or words that are "special." Don't use them for emphasis, like "this," because saying you're very "sincere" is kind of oxymoronic.
* Extraneous apostrophe's are not you're friend's.
* Don't end every sentence with "haha" or "LOL," especially if the sentence that precedes it isn't funny. Saying "I make great lasagna. Maybe you can try it sometime LOL!" makes me think your recipe contains mushrooms. Magic ones.
5. Don't send out form letters.
For a fun experiment, try this: Post an ad online. Read the responses. Post a different but similar ad on the same site a week later. Read the responses. Count how many are from the same guys and are word-for-word, exactly the same. Wonder if they even bothered to read what you wrote or look at your picture, or if they just spend way too much time sitting there feverishly refreshing the screen, mass-mailing to every new girl that pops up, and thinking, hey, it's gotta work eventually, right?!?
6. Tell me something.
"whats up sexy call me 718-xxx-xxxx" is not going to win my heart or any points for creativity. How do I know you're not a serial killer? Or a phone sex line? Or that guy down the hall who's always blaring "Birthday Sex" at 2 in the morning? Or a Republican? At least try to spark my interest. Trust me, I am no spoiled princess demanding to be pampered for nothing in return. I'm a hardcore, hot-blooded feminista. I’m all for equality and girls being assertive and making the first move and paying for the date if it was their idea and initiating sex, but now you're just being lazy.
7. But not your life story.
It is not necessary, in an initial reply, to tell me: if your parents are still married; the names and breeds of all the pets you've ever owned; where you hope to be in 5 years, career- and family-wise, and how you plan to attain those goals; your views on gay couples and adoption; the name of every trendy restaurant you've been to in the last 6 months and what you ordered there; that you think a woman looks most beautiful in the throes of an orgasm; how many people you've responded to before me who didn't even have the courtesy to say "No, thank you, I'm not interested;" whether or not you are circumcised. It is particularly unnecessary to tell me all of these things at once.
8. Don't be a Nigerian scammer.
My favorite response of all time, completely unedited:
"Hello Princess Lady.
Wow I cant believed that such a pretty looking lady like you would be on here, I Most confess on what I saw, I was carried away when I get a look at your sexy, attractive and Adorable Lips in your Picture [NOTE: You can't see my lips in the picture — see my profile pic], I was very Impressed on what I saw.You are such a pack of beauty, your eye's is Adorable and I wish that you where very Closed to me, Well to be honest with you am a new member in this site.As i said i dont mind relocating to you cause i know i will have so much love to share with you and u will have for me aswell...So I dont know much about things in this site, well you are the only lady that I just meet Here and am very happy and you really made my day. Well you ask me where am from. Well am from West Africa, But i just move to north carolina .... Well i'm my spare time, i took my son to
the beach, and went for shopping, and we are two children of my folks.my Dad passed away in a car accident and i have my mum is west africa...mum is from west africa and dad is a native of America,i hope you are not very ecthic [NOTE: I don't even know what that word was trying to be] about my distance to you cuz i believe that anything can happen to love, to me distance is not an issue to me. I can relocate when I find my right lady Well my hobbies. i like reading, dancing, sport, and my favorite type of food are Italian food, Mexican food sea food Well you can come to my Yahoo instant messenger so that we can get to talk better And know more each other, and we can share pics there. Well add, me on my yahoo instant Messenger right now (toffycute009 or send me an Email right now toffycute009@yahoo.com) Or you can just give me you Yahoo Instant
Messenger ID also, or your email address.
Hope you will love to know my son soon,
Well I’ll be very happy to hear from you once again.
Thanks
Toffy.."
Happy hunting, comrades. :)
1. Don't be old enough to be my dad.
Hope may spring eternal, but I am under no obligation to indulge that hope. If I took the time to specify an age range, it's there for a reason. If that range is, say, 29-39, and you're, like, 28 or 41, I'll let you slide. But if you're 56, and you have the gall to even start off your reply with, "I know I'm too old for you, but...," please, don't bother. I am not here to propel anyone's mid-life crisis; you're just wasting both of our time. Same goes if you are young enough to be my son: I am admittedly a rather ferocious cougar, but if you're 22, still live at home, address me as "shorty," and use the word (and I use that term loosely) "chillax," I may have to slap you.
2. Don't be confrontational. Or a douche.
If my Match.com profile mentions I'm a die-hard Mavs fan, poking fun at Dirk's lack of defensive skills is acceptable. However, if my quirky Craigslist ad says I'm seeking "a skinny boy with glasses and tattoos," it is not acceptable to respond "Excuse me but I am a MAN not a boy and I'd never be dumb enough to put something permanent on my body but to each his own." What, exactly, are you expecting to accomplish by insulting me and confirming in a single sentence that we have nothing in common? I mean, I know I'm a hot little number, but I purposely did not post in the "casual encounters" section, and I somehow doubt that I am so tempting you're willing to overlook our completely divergent personalities just to go to a movie. There's also a reason I've never been religious — I don't approve of preachers.
3. Don't send me porn.
I will tolerate topless pics if you are standing on a beach with a surfboard or showing me a chest tattoo [see "a skinny boy with glasses and tattoos"]. I will not tolerate topless pics of you flexing in front of your car or that you took of yourself in the mirror with your face blurred out, no matter how tight your abs. And there is NO WAY I will stand for a cock shot, especially by way of introduction when there's not even a message attached. I mean, really? Has this approach ever worked for anyone, ever? And if you're just trying to be offensive, well, sorry, honey, but I've seen one before. And it was bigger than yours.
4. Speak English.
This is an actual reply that I actually received:
"I read u n like u. You look very smart n it is good for girls like to talk with u 646xxxxxxx"
Ah, yes, the irony of telling someone they look smart...like that. Folks, I am an editor. I proofread for a living. And I weep for the future.
I'm not asking everyone to live up to my professional standards, but if I have to decipher your response like it's some encrypted clue out of The DaVinci Code, you're probably not going to make it to Round 2. I know capitalization is kind of lax on the Interwebz, but at least punctuate your sentences so I know where they end and can puzzle some sort of sense out of them. And I know I'm guilty of some occasional acronym abuse myself — BTW, IMO, FWIW, DIAGF (look up that last one — it’s awesome), and, yeah, ok, sometimes I write "gonna" and "wanna." But "and," "are," and "you" are only 3 letters each. C'mon now, people.
Pointers for some added pet peeves:
* There are 3 periods in an ellipsis, 4 if it's ending the sentence. Not 27...not 14...just 3.
* Quotation marks only go around quotations, or words that are "special." Don't use them for emphasis, like "this," because saying you're very "sincere" is kind of oxymoronic.
* Extraneous apostrophe's are not you're friend's.
* Don't end every sentence with "haha" or "LOL," especially if the sentence that precedes it isn't funny. Saying "I make great lasagna. Maybe you can try it sometime LOL!" makes me think your recipe contains mushrooms. Magic ones.
5. Don't send out form letters.
For a fun experiment, try this: Post an ad online. Read the responses. Post a different but similar ad on the same site a week later. Read the responses. Count how many are from the same guys and are word-for-word, exactly the same. Wonder if they even bothered to read what you wrote or look at your picture, or if they just spend way too much time sitting there feverishly refreshing the screen, mass-mailing to every new girl that pops up, and thinking, hey, it's gotta work eventually, right?!?
6. Tell me something.
"whats up sexy call me 718-xxx-xxxx" is not going to win my heart or any points for creativity. How do I know you're not a serial killer? Or a phone sex line? Or that guy down the hall who's always blaring "Birthday Sex" at 2 in the morning? Or a Republican? At least try to spark my interest. Trust me, I am no spoiled princess demanding to be pampered for nothing in return. I'm a hardcore, hot-blooded feminista. I’m all for equality and girls being assertive and making the first move and paying for the date if it was their idea and initiating sex, but now you're just being lazy.
7. But not your life story.
It is not necessary, in an initial reply, to tell me: if your parents are still married; the names and breeds of all the pets you've ever owned; where you hope to be in 5 years, career- and family-wise, and how you plan to attain those goals; your views on gay couples and adoption; the name of every trendy restaurant you've been to in the last 6 months and what you ordered there; that you think a woman looks most beautiful in the throes of an orgasm; how many people you've responded to before me who didn't even have the courtesy to say "No, thank you, I'm not interested;" whether or not you are circumcised. It is particularly unnecessary to tell me all of these things at once.
8. Don't be a Nigerian scammer.
My favorite response of all time, completely unedited:
"Hello Princess Lady.
Wow I cant believed that such a pretty looking lady like you would be on here, I Most confess on what I saw, I was carried away when I get a look at your sexy, attractive and Adorable Lips in your Picture [NOTE: You can't see my lips in the picture — see my profile pic], I was very Impressed on what I saw.You are such a pack of beauty, your eye's is Adorable and I wish that you where very Closed to me, Well to be honest with you am a new member in this site.As i said i dont mind relocating to you cause i know i will have so much love to share with you and u will have for me aswell...So I dont know much about things in this site, well you are the only lady that I just meet Here and am very happy and you really made my day. Well you ask me where am from. Well am from West Africa, But i just move to north carolina .... Well i'm my spare time, i took my son to
the beach, and went for shopping, and we are two children of my folks.my Dad passed away in a car accident and i have my mum is west africa...mum is from west africa and dad is a native of America,i hope you are not very ecthic [NOTE: I don't even know what that word was trying to be] about my distance to you cuz i believe that anything can happen to love, to me distance is not an issue to me. I can relocate when I find my right lady Well my hobbies. i like reading, dancing, sport, and my favorite type of food are Italian food, Mexican food sea food Well you can come to my Yahoo instant messenger so that we can get to talk better And know more each other, and we can share pics there. Well add, me on my yahoo instant Messenger right now (toffycute009 or send me an Email right now toffycute009@yahoo.com) Or you can just give me you Yahoo Instant
Messenger ID also, or your email address.
Hope you will love to know my son soon,
Well I’ll be very happy to hear from you once again.
Thanks
Toffy.."
Happy hunting, comrades. :)
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