Everybody has a bit of nerd in them, and my nerdiness rises when it comes to words. Specifically, S-P-E-L-L-I-N-G. I can't write in the txt-ing lingo so prevalent among people born after 1985. I have a better chance of deciphering hieroglyphics without the Rosetta Stone handy than I do cracking this moronic code (God. Damn. Kids). I refuse to text message a mass of letter jumbles for the sake of efficiency. I'm not a holy defender of keeping language immaculate. Having a love of language, oral and written, I do appreciate when words are broken and/or their meanings are bent to create slang, colloquialisms, and pidgin. The other form of language-screwing that I detest is jargon. Jargon is used to make other people feel stupid (Graduate schools for business? That's worked out well.) and/or spend more money than necessary (effin' lawyers). Txt-ing is evil.
Being a word nerd means I will take the day off to watch The Scripps National Spelling Bee. You know, they let Canadians compete. Last time I checked, Canada was its own sovereign nation. I know America regards Canada as its personal attic for some reason, but it's really more of a forgotten annex of Great Britain, non? Either way, it's got a Prime Minister AND a functioning universal health care system, which means I can't legally vote there. Ergo, shouldn't it be called The Scripps International Spelling Bee? Actually, I'm in favor of not having Canadians participate. Create your own fricking Spelling Bee, Canucks! You're never going to be considered a true first nation until you do.
Anyhoo, I flopped on the big, green chair with a box of Cheez-its and prepared to test my skills against a bunch of scary pre-pubescents who are so busy memorizing word lists and learning language roots they haven't figured out that wearing Dockers doesn't lead to happy lives. In the rounds that count, approximately a half-dozen spellers captured my imagination and my heart. I don't remember them all now, but two that stuck in my head were My Korean Woody Allen and RockerGrrrl. I'm always a sucker for a miniature Woody Allen. Who isn't? And, RockerGrrrl, c'mon! Finally, a contestant who didn't let their mother dress them!!!!! I did a cartwheel when I saw her shaggy, hipster 'do. Frick and frack, I think she even worked a pair of leggings. Bliss.
Here's the list of words I correctly spelled (all glorious fourteen of them).
- machtpolitik
- stapp
- poivrade
- Santeria
- escritoire
- Moloch
- foudroyant
- talipot
- Grenache
- Anasazi
- tagliatelle
- blancmange
- simnel
- grisaille
Two things helped me to reach that stunning number--14--of correct responses: my French lessons in school and my foodie tendencies. While I did plug away at my foreign language for almost a decade, most of it took place in a public school. That means I can't speak it for merde, but I remember what letter combinations create the oral fuckery that is the French language. As a foodie, I eat out and expose myself to menus from varied cuisines and wine lists. I peruse cookbooks and linger over new phrases. So, that explains the bulk of my success.
One of the words was a lucky guess. I have no idea what is a "simnel," or if it's even a bloody noun. My startling knowledge of children's literature landed me "Anasazi." I got "Santeria" because, well, I'm a straight-up heathen and well-acquainted with polytheistic worship accompanied with blood and dancing. I don't practice Santeria (still too Catholic), but was raised with something similar.
I was quite pleased with my results. The winner of this year's Bee wasn't one of my half-dozen gunslingers, but it was still fun to watch. RockerGrrl, you brrroke my hearrrt. My Korean Woody Allen, I expect to see you next year...and, please, burn those frickin' Dockers.
***UPDATE***
Well. I had no idea. Maybe my stomach instinctively knew how to spell it.
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