A recent comment confused me. As usual.
Bruce Hamjangles accused me of promulgating zederisms. Despite googling the word, I had no idea what a zederism was. Turns out it's a neologism for spelling words with a 'z' (pronounced 'zed') that would be normally spelled with an 's' in standard Australian English.
Guilty as charged.
But before you pass sentence, hear this. I only did it because blogger.com insists that 's' is wrong and puts a little red squiggle under the word. A little red squiggle which I find so annoying that it's psychologically less damaging for me to just cave in and use American English's 'z' (pronounced 'zee').
Bruce Hamjangles also used the word "ġeār-dagum" which I am unable to shed any light on at this stage of my existence. Do not doubt, however, that I am devoting myriad resources to decoding this apparent keyboard face-plant.
Out.
Showing posts with label moral turpitude. Show all posts
Showing posts with label moral turpitude. Show all posts
Thursday, December 17, 2015
Friday, July 8, 2011
A cunning plan
My problem is that I am a bad liar.
When I go home in the afternoon, my Smaller Half will conversationally enquire about what I had for lunch. And if I had a moment of weakness and had hot chips for lunch I am unable to adequately account for my time and money. I know perfectly well that not only are chips bad for me but I also feel queasy afterward and regret them.
"Err", I say, "My lunch. Indeed, my lunch was delicious! I had something good, I can't recall now the details but it was very satisfying."
"You had chips didn't you?" asks my Smaller Half.
"Yes", I say, "I am so ashamed."
The stupid thing is that even though I know I need an alibi, I am unable to come up with one because I don't want to actually lie. It would be easy to just tell her that I had a chicken sandwich or some such innocuous thing. But I think that if a man is going to fib about his lunch he isn't much of a man.
So this is my plan from now on: "I had some potato salad".
Brilliant, eh? If pressed for details I can concede that it was a deep-fried potato salad, of the French variety. But otherwise, the truth remains safe with me, you, and the internet.
When I go home in the afternoon, my Smaller Half will conversationally enquire about what I had for lunch. And if I had a moment of weakness and had hot chips for lunch I am unable to adequately account for my time and money. I know perfectly well that not only are chips bad for me but I also feel queasy afterward and regret them.
"Err", I say, "My lunch. Indeed, my lunch was delicious! I had something good, I can't recall now the details but it was very satisfying."
"You had chips didn't you?" asks my Smaller Half.
"Yes", I say, "I am so ashamed."
The stupid thing is that even though I know I need an alibi, I am unable to come up with one because I don't want to actually lie. It would be easy to just tell her that I had a chicken sandwich or some such innocuous thing. But I think that if a man is going to fib about his lunch he isn't much of a man.
So this is my plan from now on: "I had some potato salad".
Brilliant, eh? If pressed for details I can concede that it was a deep-fried potato salad, of the French variety. But otherwise, the truth remains safe with me, you, and the internet.
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