Okay, so let's nip this thing in the bud.

Since the beginning of time, I have always spoken like this. Well, I suppose in this medium, the better term is communicated. Then again, wouldn't want to scare anyone with the appropriate usage of a polysyllabic verb being thrown in here and there.

I love words. As I think I have declared (or "professed", if you like) before, I am a total vocabulary slut.

Totally get off on big words.

Especially big word from unexpected sources.

Truly a butter-melting proposition.

Yummy.

How so?

Example:

In my formative tween years, watching an interview of Steve Young, the 49ers QB, after a game, not only accepting repsonsibility for a last minute loss (oooh, personal responsibility and admitting one's shortcomings - how utterly delectable) but using the following phrase: "Clearly, I am disappointed in myself. The onus is on me to make sure we win games."

The man is a professional athlete, in the NFL no less, and he used the word "onus" - I love it.

(Of course I learned in intervening years that this probably was not such a big deal, in that Young in fact was a closet "Esq." - plenty on time riding the bench behind J. Montana apparently left him with too much time on his hands - but nonetheless, it was a big deal at the time.)

All of this being said, there are certain truths which my large vocabulary (aka hefty lexicon, if you will) have made self evident:

(1) A Little Bit of Knowledge is A Dangerous Thing: Like Joey on Friends it will be obvious if you have been speed reading your Thesaurus as of late and are dropping big words in order to appear smart. Yes, Smartysaurus, just keep in mind that your efforts will be big, lumbering and awkward and therefore will leave you completely obvious to all those you want to impress, and completely perplexing to those you do not.

I have, on occasion been accused of such behavior, but that is simply not the case: (1) because I have been talking since this way since I was 3, (2) I have been made fun of for talking this way since I was 3, (3) who would keep talking this way voluntarily, under such abuse, clearly it is not a dating-magnet (see #3 below).

I am dorky, I admit it. The only beauty of that state for me, is that my dorkiness is completely effortless.

(2) Hearing is Believing: You came across a new word. You like it. You have figured out its meaning from context, and it appears to be fairly utilitarian. You go about your day. Suddenly, there is there is the golden opportunity. Your new word would fit just like a hand in a glove in the middle of this choice conversation you are having with your best buddies and [INSERT PERSON YOU WANT TO IMPRESS HERE - i.e. hot dating prospect, potential new boss, your first dinner with your in-laws]. You aim. You shoot. You score. *Ahhh* *The crowd goes wild*

Wait, why is everyone looking at you funny? Pained sympathetic forced smiles were not what you were going for. What is the deal?

Apparently, you only read your new word before using it. You never heard it. The result: Proper context, improper pronunciation. Dead give away the word is new. Making you look like an utter poser.

Examples from daily life (in italics - spelled phonetically):

- "Where did you get that carrot?" "Oh, off of the crew-dite platter over there."

[Ooh, that one has to hurt. CORRECT WAY: Crudite = Crew-dih-tay]

- "Things were going smoothly, until suddenly our plan went awe-ree."

[This has the additional blow that it will probably also generate puzzled looks from your conversation-mates, in that it will take them a couple of seconds to figure out what the hell you actually meant. CORRECT WAY: Awry = Uh-rye or Ah-rye]

- "You know, if you were going to try not to call attention to yourself, you probably should have worn something more sub-tull than a bright yellow ALF tee-shirt."

[Doh! Oh, the irony. CORRECT WAY: Subtle = Suddle]

- MY FAVORITE (from an A&W Root Beer commercial): "I think I am more than qualified for this job Mr. Dumb-Ass. I would really appreciate it if you hired me Mr. Dumb-Ass. When will I hear back from you Mr. Dumb-Ass?"

[Fade back to name plate on desk reading "Mr. Dumas"]

"It's Mr. Doom-ah-ss."

Hee.

(3) Friends Don't Let Friends Converse Drunk: So this girl walks into a bar... She is accompanied by a couple of her female partners in crime. The PICs get approached by a group of guys. Dutifully, the girl plays wingwoman, as she should. She converses about this. She chats about that. Some pleasant inane laughter thrown in here and there for effect. She must keep the guy interested enough that he won't leave and persuade his mates who are talking to her PICs to do the same, yet she stands there wondering if it bothers him as much as it bothers her that she can see straight over the top of his head. Then again, this gives him a prime view of her twin hillside real estate, so I suppose, he is neither bothered nor listening to her, really. Until... She makes as statement about "people's proclivities around the office" or some such thing. He throws a stop sign into the whole conversation with a turtle-like thrust of his head forward (uncomfortably close to aforementioned hillsides) but far enough away to afford her a direct view of the quizzical tilt of his head and the befuddled look on his face. "What does that mean?" he gurgles out. Okay, "proclivities" - got it. It's a $2M word. SAT type material. Not general fodder for Saturday night conversation. No big deal. Back away. Recoup. Try again. "Tendencies?" she hopefully intoned. Some squinting on his part. Tilting of the head the other direction. A throat clear. And again, "What?" This time louder and more emphatic. Oh dear Lord. Is he serious? Oh man, he is nothing but. Her voice cracking with the hope against hope that this was not in fact all there was of the dating scene, she managed to croak out: "Like habits?" Silence. Breath held. She needed this to work. She was standing ankle-deep in the shallow end of the pool of words in this category. There was nowhere to go from here. She began to desperately imagine how one might act out "habits" using shadow puppets, a bar napkin, and a half eaten olive. Then again, she might just have to aim that plastic sword-shaped swizzle stick in her drink at her own eye. Oy - self inflicted pirate attack. That would definitely be a new low. Then again, at this point... Anything to get out of this conversational quagmire.

And then the slow motion cam of life set in:

He rocks back on his heels. His head is moving. She thinks it may be, yes, it appears to be moving up... and then down again...and then up... and then down. And he is saying something now.

"Ohhhhhhhh, ooooooh-kaaaaaaay."

Thank god.

She was never sure if he had really ultimately understood, or if he had finally gotten with the program that when you are chatting up chicks at a bar, even if you don't understand, you just nod and smile, nod and smile. Saturday night, four cocktails deep (at least), perception definitely becomes reality.

The only reality for her that night was the uneven (and oftentimes) frightening quality of the people on the dating scene.

Ultimately, the wingwoman flies alone.