I’m Over You #1 (Yes, you.)

I’m all for innovating language and watching linguistics transform in the information age. But the cow stops here. I’m over, beneath, and fleeing to Canada from it, folks. What was cute at first, is now, in its 28765th adaptation, lazier than a Southern Baptist man after Sunday lunch.

I’m talking about Blends.

  • blend (a noun) – in linguistics, a word formed from parts of two or more other words. These parts are sometimes, but not always, morphemes.

When I type in jean leggings into google search, I shouldn’t have to demean myself, my integrity, and the fact that I’ve graduated beyond 5th grade English to type in “jeggings.” Pardon me, ladies and gentleman, but what in the blazes?

I, for one, am unsurprised when English teachers are shocked that kids in the 7th grade can’t spell “angle,” given all this grammatical obscenity. (I’m referring to the one time I helped my Mom clean out her junior high classroom and found a math homework assignment riddled with spelling mistakes, including  one particular gem, “angele.” After my eyes refocused and I questioned mother about the injustice, she responded: “They want us to make sure they understand the concepts first, and then look at the spelling,” to which I replied, “D’aw, that’s cute. But can’t they look at both simultaneously? Must we continue to undermine their intelligence and stifle their potential?” to which mother replied, “Look. I’m tired. I’m retiring next summer. Can we go home now?”)

I’m a fan of the spork (spoon + fork) despite it’s shitty functionality. I usually wake up in enough time for brunch (breakfast + lunch). Even Bennifer was interesting once. (Ben Affleck + Jennifer Lopez). And we all saw how that one worked out. Now Ben Affleck carries Jennifer Garner’s purse and Jennifer Lopez always borrows Marc  Anthony’s without asking. Meh.

I’m just saying. For giggles. Can we move on?

(P.S. I’m half-joking. But not really.)


Jeggings. Cute, but killing grammar since 2009. 


By the way, I’m looking at you next, leet (l33t) speak. That’s a whole ‘nother bucket of vomit.

P.S. This really goes against what I was taught to tell people at the writing center. But I’m power hungry, dang flammit.


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