It's early in the morning when I can't sleep that these little things cross my mind. I start to have little conversations with myself, conflicting monologues that may or may not make sense:
Boustrephedon, that'd make a good name for a kid.
The way the ox ploughs...
Sure, why not?
Isn't that kind of unorthodox?
I challenge you to find anything where I am orthodox. I think it would be an alright name. Uncommon maybe...
And let me guess, if you had a kid you'd raise it in some bizarre foreign language.
Well not bizarre, maybe. All I really know is Latin. But that's a good language. Language of scholarship, you know. All that conjugation keeps you sharp.
You can't hae a good understanding of English grammar without it.
True, that.
But no one uses it anymore so it's pointless. It would be absolutely rotten of you to do that to a poor defenceless kid. I mean, naming them some random Greek word for zigzag is bad enough, but what would they do if you sent them to school?
mater! liberos ceteros intellegere non possum!
Exactly.
No sympathy from me. I thought that's what Sesame Street was for.
You'd make a cruel mother.
That's where we agree.
And that's where I decide that I've had enough. My neck is sore and this is accomplishing nothing. Caffeine cures all, even at 4 am.
Sunday, December 17, 2006
Posse is an irregular verb
Posted by erin at 7:38 AM
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