1.) The problem with avoiding exclamation points is that some sentences require them, unless you’re okay with sounding like a sarcastic ass. Now obviously I am okay with sounding like a sarcastic ass, in fact I quite regularly seek out opportunities for such, but every now and then I’m being serious and want to convey that sentiment.
2.) For example, I give you the following sentence: “Wow. Good job.” Kinda sounds like I’m actually saying “You bit the big one there, homeslice,” (compared to “Wow! Good job!”)… or… “Congratulations on your third baby. Things should really get interesting now.” That one sounds like I’m about to overnight them an adult size coffin.
3.) So I find myself using them even though it hurts just the tiniest bit, each time. I know that’s weird, but come on, you know the emphatic use (hA!) of exclamation points is heart-wrenchingly annoying. I know this person (is that vague enough for ya?) who uses one after every sentence, culminating the whole fiasco with two or three right in a row. Emails from her look like this: “We’ve been having a great year! Johnny plays minor league football now, and we’re proud! Samantha is swimming and loves her dolls! And next month we’re heading to the Grand Canyon for vacation!!!“ [Do you or do you not know this type of writer and do you or do you not want to break their shins?]
4.) I should spend less time contemplating exclamation points and more time doing one of the things on my list, such as preparing lessons for my son (I haven’t done that ONCE EVER – it’s always this off-the-cuff thing), or reading for my classes, or writing the annotated bibliography that’s due on Wednesday, which I haven’t started. All of these would be better options than reflecting on punctuation, but that’s how I roll.
5.) Last night I went to sushi with Erin and Kim who blog here and here. They are great women and remind me how much it doesn’t suck to have smart, down-to-earth, compassionate friends who don’t give a shit if your skirt is wrinkled and your shirt purchased at Target and your make-up barely visible and your hair not done.
6.) I hear there are some real super-snob moms out there. I may have observed a few from afar, but I’m guessing they take one look at my disheveled ass and bad attitude and say to themselves “Um, No.”
7.) Oddly, I’m not losing over sleep over their disdain.
8.) I am, however, losing sleep over all kinds of other things, such as whether or not we can brush the matts out of the dog’s rear-end or if we need to shave it, and if we do shave it, how much will it scare the little fella (given his fear of anything mechanical) and also, will the hair stick in the shaver? IF so, will Mac care that I used his shaver to shave the dog’s butt? Or maybe I can just pull the hair out of the blades before he sees? OR MAYBE I should ditch the whole scheme thus far concocted and take the dog to the groomer. But I don’t have an appointment for the groomer. Do they take walk-ins? And how much does they cost anyway…? Ohhhh and they could also trim his nails since I’m too scared to do it. Are they open now? I wish they were open now. I’d get up right now and make an appointment.
9.) I am.not.exaggerating. This goes on for hours and hours and hours no matter how many bottles pills of melatonin I take or gallons of chamomile I drink or repetitions of a mantra or prayer or following my breath just like Thich Nhat Han says.
10.) So I’m admitting surrender, letting go of my personal desire to be pill-free and going this morning to the doctor where I shall announce: “HOOK IT UP, Doctor, lest I murder my children and end up hand-plucking my dog’s butt hair with tweazers.”
And on that happy note, I shall see you all soon. Hopefully more often than last week. Kiss.
Oh, and check these out.