Champion of the Semicolon

Hello. My name is Erica Rothman, and I am a grammar Nazi. Der Grammatisch Polizei. In order to stave off implosion, I must vent two of my biggest pet peeves; one of them is an oral communication thing, the other is written. Though the impulse is often there, I rarely correct people when they speak. Very, very rarely. Because I'm not that kind of asshole. But it drives me fucking crazy when "there's" replaces what should be "there are." Subject-verb agreement is SIMPLE. Schoolchildren all over the planet do it everyday, some in more than one language. So be wise: pluralize! Next on the docket* is the constant fucking up of the word definitely. THERE IS NO A. I don't care how you mispronounce it, the A ain't there, honey, and ain't no bad spelling ever gonna bring it back. Cain't ever lose what you never had. Other remarks vaguely removed from country music go here.

Our ride up to Portland was police evasion-tastic. We caught a ride with a grad student that really didn't want a ticket. I think he was kind of embarrassed for blatantly breaking a couple laws, but I didn't really mind. I thought it was kind of funny.

The concert was fun, although I think having two opening acts is superfluous, no matter how much or little the band rocks. When a gig starts at 9, I want to see the band by 10. Not 11:1fucking5. But I guess the waiting around was okay too because I saw three people I knew from Anchorage there, and all of them were people I liked. Oddly, I didn't recognize a single soul from UO, but I digress. Amanda Howard, a girl I lost track of after graduation, turned up. She's been living in Portland since winter, studying at a rather pretigious cooking school. She (and Pachel) made US Government decent. If Areli actually reads this, I'll get a big OH MY GOD!!! out of this one. I saw Andrew Merrell (and Josi whatsherberry), and I'm pretty sure he recognized me. I mean, we were neighbors and all, and I interviewed his band, etc, so I'm not surprised. Strange to see him, though. Strange, strange.

Roberta gave us wine and Easter candy. I returned to find more Easter candy, a book, a sketchbook, and tax papers awaiting me. Now if only I could get them to airmail my guitar...

The girl at the far north end of our hall moved out, Ashley, and I wish I had gotten to know her better. She's gone, and I probably never had a real conversation with her. The most substantive chat was along the lines of: Did you dye your hair? Yep, about a week ago. Oh man, am I inobservant. Don't worry about it. (I finish washing my hands.) G'night. Night. There's some regret, but it stems from the fact that I'll forget she was here in a week or two, which is sadder than never getting to know her, I guess.

There are many more sketchbook pages, and some stuff that is yet unscanned. Do you want to see it, or is it boring/whiny/stupid?

*Enormous tangent: Hallmate Charlie used this phrase at the hall meeting last tuesday, making him the only person other than myself, my father, and his father to use it in my presence. Charlie also puns. Thus, I think he is awesome.