Jul 23, 2025
it's a shame you died
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it's a shame you died
learning random facts just because i like being right about things.
"FEAR NOT, CITIZENS -- COMMA LAD IS HERE!"
A while back, I helped a friend with some editing on her novel. I am convinced that she knows the punctuation rules as well as I do, but she resents them -- she resists the rules until the last minute. She is particularly scattered on her use of commas.
She started referring to me as "Comma Lad". I preferred the name "Captain Comma" because it just seems more heroic, but she insisted on "Comma Lad".
Well, I happened to run across this old email exchange between us during the editing process (who says editing is boring work!):
Writer: "Comma Lad, help me!"
Me: "Are your thoughts jumbling together? Are your sentences colliding? Are people scratching their heads at the meaning of your prose? Well, fear not, citizens. Comma Lad is here!"
Writer: "Thank you, Comma Lad!"
Image: Blank Superhero by paulh18 (2011) / deviantART / CC BY-NC-ND 3.0
ques·tion: noun. An expression of inquiry that invites or calls for a reply.
I realize I don’t asked enough questions. I was at a shitty, overpriced-store in the mall with my pre-teen daughter killing time and my spirit watching the consuming zombies attack any product with a sale sign last weekend when I had a weird exchange with a non-specific Asian employee. She was in her mid 40’s, wearing jean shorts, a pink tank top and simultaneously picking her teeth and eating at the same time. This store is full of formal gowns and accessories for proms, weddings and quinceaneras. A nine year old girl’s dreams come true. I decided to let the love of my daughter overcome my disdain for dress stores , as my baby girl led me by the wrist into a taffeta, lace, and rhinestone nightmare. We stumbled upon an unorganized rack with 9-12 cubby holes filled with little handheld purses. My girl said they are called “clutches”. Nice. There are so many purses…err...clutches that some of them are lined up on the ground in front of the display. My future shopaholic begins grabbing the merchandise, opening and closing, snaps, buckles and zippers at a tremendously fast pace. Mind you, no one has asked if we need any assistance yet. My retail tornado continues to rummage through every bejeweled or bedazzled junk drawer when she drops one on the ground next to the others that weren’t good enough to be on a pedestal. Before my offspring can retrieve the pink, purse product, a wrinkled claw snatches it up. We look to our right and see the lovely employee looking at us and speaking in a nondescript, accented voice say, “Don’t touch the merchandise.”
I said, “We can’t touch the merchandise?”
She replied, “No, you can.”
We can touch the merchandise and we can’t touch the merchandise? I was confused, angry and happy that this rude, ridiculous, and reprehensible woman gave me a reason to leave her stupid store swiftly. I told my little one to put the glitzy-ness down and follow me out. As we made our hasty retreat, I barked, “Let’s go sweetie, we will not be back here.”
The woman meekly squeaked, “No.”
We both laughed and decided to go halves on a Wetzel Pretzel and frozen lemonade. As I pondered what happened over shot of cheese sauce. I thought that I should have put the lady dragon’s talons to the fire and asked her to explain what she meant. Then thought, it would be a waste of time to get into a broken English debate about the vagaries of customer service with a woman that is visibly not interested in adopting the “customer is king” motto. I felt a little disappointment in myself for missing an opportunity to make an asshole’s life an uncomfortable. On the other hand, would having a dispute with her have benefitted either one of our lives? The choice I made to let it go and share a laugh with my girl was the precise move. Spending more time with a wretched human being would have been a blunder. I guess the only questions that can satisfactorily be answered are by me.
Douchebag of the Week
Anyone that says they just heard a funny joke, but then won't tell you the joke.
Oh shit, that's a blue carapace....
What I'm like on a Monday morning: