So how old are you? 30?

It has recently been brought to my attention that I can pass for 30. Yup, I'm surprised too. I wonder if anyone who has read this blog would slap her and cite the many instances of emotional combustion and moments of flagrant insecurity, impatience, and well, ultimately, immaturity which stem from this twentysomething HWA. (Yup, new one HWA: Hollywood Assistant. Keep up with me here, I'm not even going that fast since I'm still weighed down from this past week's Girl Scout cookie gluttony.)

Hmm. I've now crossed into that era of age being a sensitive subject. It brings to mind - fading youth, and thus less cool, less attractive, and oh-so-out-of-touch. Ooh, stigmas. But then there's always Madonna.

But put me in front of a churro kiosk and I will have reverted back ten years or more. Those things are a piece of dulce genius.

I can be just as immature as the next person.

[photo creds: about churros]

WTFs?!

WTFs?! are some lamentations on life, or on things you should really know by now. I'm indignant about these; you should be, too.

So just to get these off my chest:

the possessive your: should probably precede a noun. (thereby showing possession...)
and the you're: as in the contraction of you are.

just a few notes on spelling

• tomorrow. The last person you spoke to today probably spelled it wrong.
• accommodate.
• Wednesday. Yes, there are two d's in there.
  
• hors d'oeuvre. If you really don't know it, then don't use it.
  
• receive. This one kills me every time I see it butchered. Absolutely kills.

Spell checking tools are your friend.

Sigh. Shaking of head. God help us all. I'm going to have a piece of dark chocolate while those who need to, mull over the aforementioned.