The husband and I play this little game. It’s called “let’s see how long we can drive the car on fumes without putting gas into it” Oh sure, it was a fun game while we were all newlywed-like and all I had to do was bat an eyelash and boom goes the dynamite, my car would be filled. 11 years later…well, not so much. Now, it’s up there as one of my least favorite games – right up there with “let’s see how little sympathy we can give the sick spouse” – mostly because I usually end up having to fill both the van and the car, and somehow it’s always when I’m running late and I need to be somewhere (like Emily’s dress rehearsal or at the airport) and the van? that beast takes an ungodly amount of gas…about $85 dollars worth. and as the numbers climb, I stand there all, I could have bought a happy meal and a necklace and a pair of flip flops and a belt…dammit.
The funny thing is that in high school, I used to LOVE to fill up my car. My father had given me a shell gas card and while I never pulled a Lelaina Pierce per say…
it really would amaze you to learn about ALL the things you can purchase with a gas card…magazines, gum, food, drinks, magazines. I mean, hell, you could even buy birthday gifts for loves ones!
even though I *am* actually an editor by trade (even though I didn’t attend my publishing school graduation because I was still at that postpartum stage where I didn’t go out in public so as not to scare small children with my porn-star boobs and jelly belly and vomit-encrusted unwashed clothing) (but yay me for planning Emily’s arrival perfectly!), sometimes I come across editorial questions. Now, normally I would just pop up and peer overÂ Lucia’s cubicle in front of me and ask her my stupid questions like, “Hey, Luc…how do you spell wiener? Is is wiener or weiner?” but Lucia went off to have a wee baby this week, so I am bringing my editorial question to you. and, lo! I come bearing props!
okay…so here’s my question. When you use the term “wail” as in “to wail on someone” which I had heard for the first time while watching The Breakfast Club when Andrew talks about taping Larry Lester’s buns together. It certainly wasn’t my most favorite quote** of one of the most quotable movies of all time, but he does say this…
“So I’m sitting in the locker room and I’m taping up my knee, and Larry’s undressing a couple locker’s down from me. And he’s kinda, he’s kinda skinny. Weak. And I started thinkin’ about my father, and his attitude about, about weakness. And the next thing I knew, I jumped on top of him and started wailing on him. And my friends, they just laughed and cheered me on…”
Now, Miss Jodi Picoult, she takes a different road here. She says “I’d get pissed off and WHALE on him” WHALE? really? is that right?
**favorite is probably…
“Well, Brian, this is a very nutritious lunch. All the food groups are represented. Did your mom marry Mr. Rogers?”
“Uh, no. Mr. Johnson”
also, apparently, I should have taken a minute to actually, you know, look up the definition of wail and whale. Thanks to my lovely friend Tamara (who is both a work friend and a real life friend…imagine!), Jodi Picoult is RIGHT and I am wrong. to be fair to me, Tamara is also an editor and was just as surprised as I was. and also to be fair to me….I can write a way better ending than Ms. Picoult. just saying.
and now, since this is the most ridiculous post in the history of posts, I will direct your attention over to Sir Avitable’s site…where I have a guest post up, where I do none other than embarass myself, once again.