Hottie and I were sitting on the couch one evening discussing our day when the conversation reduced to our pet peeves.
“You want to know what I hate? When people don’t know the difference between there, they’re, and their. I mean, what kind of idiot didn’t pay attention in third grade English class when they taught that?”
“Well, you know, I always remember the difference because of, you know, where, there…” I had no idea what he was talking about, but decided to let him go with it. I was beginning to think he was one of the people I was just referring to, so I decided to change the subject.
Not very far, obviously.
“Or to, too, and two. Who doesn’t know the difference between those?” I shook my head in disgust, sad for all of the students who rely on spell check, who can’t spell, and still get them wrong.
“You want to know what I hate?” He must of been tired of hearing me complain about people’s bad spelling. “I hate when Spanish speakers refuse to speak Spanish. When you talk to them in Spanish and they respond to you in English. Why? What’s the purpose?”
“Maybe they’re embarrassed because they know that you speak Spanish better than they do.”
“That’s not why. They’re just idiots who are embarrassed of their heritage.”
This topic wasn’t as interesting as bad spelling, in my opinion. So, I decided to take it in an a completely new direction.
“You want to know what I hate? I hate when people call cleaning moving one pile of clothes to a different pile of clothes.” There were three different piles of clothes in the living room alone of Hottie’s and I focused on the television in front of us as he glanced at me out of the corner of his eye.
“You want to know what I hate? I hate when someone leaves the water running when they’re doing the dishes instead of washing them all and then rinsing them all. It’s a waste of water.”
This conversation wasn’t any fun any more, so I grabbed the remote and turned the TV up. “What did he just say, babe? I think he said something about the Cowboys.”
“He did? Rewind it.”