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BY BELINDA M. PASCHAL
Since I began writing this column four years ago, countless readers have asked, “How do you come up with this stuff?” Well, in addition to having been blessed with a modicum of innate talent and what I suspect is a genetic predisposition toward insanity, I have experience and education on my side. I’ve spent years honing my craft (a work in progress) and I also hold a state-certified B.S. degree – not to be confused with a degree in B.S., which I also possess.
“I love to write, but I’m not very good at it,” many folks have lamented to me. Take heart, aspiring scribes, there IS help for you. Even if you’re not a natural-born writer, you CAN learn to be a better writer. Taking a cue from Frank L. Visco’s “How to Write Good,” I present “How to Write Even More Gooder.” By following these 20 handy hints, you’ll be on your way to more coherent scribbling in no time:
1. Prepositions should never be used to end sentences with. (That's why I always use a period after.)
2. Being a writer does NOT give you carte blanche to use foreign terms ad nauseam. This practice is gauche and makes you look like a humongous jerque.
3. Don’t be redundant. Use the fewest, smallest number of words possible to make your point and convey your message; otherwise you come across as repetitive, wordy, long-winded and repetitive.
4. Conversely, don’t use one-word sentences. Ever.
5. Or sentence fragments.
6. Profanity is used by &*%!$ with limited vocabularies.
7. There ain’t never no good excuse for using no double negatives.
8. Just between you and I, some writers could care less about misusing certain words and expressions, irregardless of how awful it sounds. A responsible writer takes the time to research how to use the bestest grammar possible.
9. One exclamation point is enough to express strong feelings!!!!!
10. Avoid repetition. There’s no need to say the same thing over and over.
11. Clichés are for the birds and often stick out like a sore thumb. Instead, try to think outside the box.
12. Its important to use apostrophe’s properly.
13. Also, please, do not, get carried away, with the commas.
14. Same goes for the overuse of quotes by famous people. Quotation confesses inferiority – or so Ralph Waldo Emerson, American essayist, philosopher and poet (1803-1882), said.
15. Employing bad analogies is as terrible as when you get a letter from some non-profit organization asking for donations and you don’t send them any, but you still use the little return-address labels that they sent as a gift.
16. Talented though they may be, dangling participles make even the most brilliant writers sound like idiots.
17. Using big, fancy words when more plebian locution would suffice makes your writing abstruse and superciliously magniloquent.
18. If something was mentioned previously, to do so again is repetitious.
19. Proofread thoroughly to see if you any words out, as well as to to be certain you didn’t repeat any. And don’t forgit to use spell-check.
20. And speaking of proofreading … it’s also a good way to make sure there are no unfinished
BY BELINDA M. PASCHAL
In the good ol’ U.S. of A., flirting on a city bus could land you on the bad end of a sexual harassment lawsuit, but leave it to the Europeans to actually ENCOURAGE a little slap-and-tickle among public transit passengers.
I reckon running barefoot all over the world takes a lot out of a diaper-wearing, arrow-shooting cherub because Cupid recently hitched a ride with Arriva Scandinavia, the Copenhagen company behind the “love seat project” launched on more than 100 of its vehicles to urge riders to become friends … or more.
When someone sits in one of the valentine-red, side-by-side seats, it’s an indication that he or she is single (or at least available). Smiling, winking, making goo-goo eyes, batting of lashes and other coquettish behaviors are wholeheartedly encouraged.
That’s right, folks, it’s … The Love Bus. Come aboard, they’re expecting you. Set a course for adventure, your mind on a new romance. At least until you get to your stop.
“You never know what will happen,” an Arriva spokesman told the American Free Press. “We cannot guarantee that you will find the person of your dreams. We are just offering the possibility for people to communicate, to smile a bit more and possibly, to win someone's heart.”
That’s PR-babble for, “You might get lucky, but most likely, you’ll experience the soul-crushing agony of having no one sit next to you, causing other passengers to avert their eyes in embarrassment for you, all the while sneaking surreptitious glances at you and obviously delighting in your abject humiliation as they snicker and mutter, ‘Loser!’ behind their morning newspapers.”
Perhaps the Danish are a sweeter lot than we statesiders – after all, they DO have a pastry named after them – because I can’t see this experiment playing out too well in America. In fact, the XXX disgrace described above is just the best-case scenario. There’s also the chance you’ll end with some pervy loner as your seatmate. Or worse, YOU could be the pervy loner – at least in the eyes of the purse-clutching little old ladies boring holes through your obviously corrupt moral fiber with their disapproving stares.
It’s been a while since I patronized the mass transit system, but if memory serves and stories from friends who are regular riders are true, chances are slim to none that you’ll end up holding hands with a dreamboat, and much greater that you’ll be used as a pillow for some snoring, hygiene-challenged furball who decided of all the shoulders on the bus, YOURS looked especially drool-absorbent that day.
Seriously, though, is this what the dating game has come to – the equivalent of holding a “Please love me, I’m lonely” sign on a bus full of strangers? Whatever happened to meeting potential suitors the old-fashioned way – on Internet matchmaking sites?
BY BELINDA M. PASCHAL
In Hollywood, you know you’ve “arrived” when, instead of having you OVER for lunch, people have you FOR lunch – figuratively, that is. Restaurants, diners and delis across the U.S. celebrate celebrities with a smorgasbord of sandwiches, salads, sides and sundry snackables named for stars of TV, film, music and sports.
For some businesses, there’s no business like show business for drumming up big business. For instance, at New York’s Stage Deli, you can chow down on a Kevin Bacon, Lettuce & Tomato, a Richard Simmons Tropical Fruit Salad or a Dolly Parton – no, it’s not a double serving of extra-large chicken breasts, but pastrami and corned beef on twin rolls. Stage Deli also boasts Sid’s Caesar Salad and the Tiger Woods, which, inexplicably, is a Reuben sandwich; I guess "pork and tongue sub" didn’t sound too appealing.
With the exception of the aforementioned cleverly named dishes, it seems most eateries simply stamp a name on a particular food because a certain star once ordered it or a particular personality is their idol or the ingredients vaguely reflect the honoree’s ethnic origins – e.g., Carnegie Deli’s famous Woody Allen sandwich (pastrami and corned beef on rye).
I’m more a fan of menu items that pay tribute to a specific attribute of a celebrity – something like: The Kardashian: Roast beef, trimmed of unnecessary fat and served on two hot buns – or names that play on celebrity’s name and/or work – Samuel L. Jackson Steaks on a Plane, anyone?
If there are any restaurateurs out there in need of ideas to spice up their menus, I’m your go-to-girl! I have more ideas than a Big Mac has calories. Here are some morsels of food for thought:
* Spam Anderson
* Tom Shanks
* The Brad Pita
* Roseanne Salad Barr
* Britney Asparagus Spears
* Tyra-misu Banks
* Bismarcky Mark Wahlberg
* The Hulk Hoagie
* Terri Garr-lic Bread
* Johnny Hash – served with …
* Seth Green Eggs and Ham
* Dane Cookies ‘n’ Cream
* Johnny Depp-Dish Pizza
* Bernie Mac & Cheese
* Jane Fondue
* Jason Mrazberry Pie
* Snoop Chili Dogg
* Jean-Claude Flan Damme
* Ladyfingers GaGa
* Al Cap-Pacino
BY BELINDA M. PASCHAL
I’m not one to keep up with fashion trends, except when they strike me as particularly hideous or inane. Impractical footwear: If the heels are so high, you get a nosebleed, they’re not shoes, they’re health risks. Spray-tanning: That skin color does not occur naturally in any species except Oompa-Loompas. The return of harem pants: MC Hammer called … he wants his 1990 wardrobe back. No pants at all: Only if you’re Lady Gaga, in which case, it’s expected.
One of the latest fads infecting the chronically hip is what some have dubbed “the granny movement.” No, it has nothing to do with geriatric bowel functions; it’s all about going gray – courtesy of a dye kit rather than the natural aging process.
From London’s cool cliques, runway models, celebs like Pink, Kate Moss, Victoria “Posh” Beckham and one of the ubiquitous Olsen twins to the funky-chic geek down the block, charcoal-colored coifs are all the rage. Among the most noted of the “hipparrazi,” as I like to call ‘em, is 13-year-old blogger and style mascot Tavi Gevinson, who’s been making the scene at fashion shows and after-parties in her self-described “awkward jackets and pretty hats” and a blue-gray Dutch-boy bob. Sure, it’s cute now, but what’s she gonna do for an encore … a hip replacement at 16?
Of course, this craze is more prevalent among the younger set, ‘cause I don’t know too many women over 25 who don’t run screaming in horror at the sight of their first silvery strands. According to Nielsen, their older counterparts collectively spend $1.3 billion to hide their grays, but many of these so-called trendsetters are plunking down $200-plus per head to acquire the salt-and-pepper look … without the pepper.
I don’t get it. And I want it to stop before it gets out of hand. Next thing you know, it’ll be en vogue to carry those little coin purses that hold a megazillion pennies, which MUST be counted one by one in order to give cashiers exact change, thus holding up the rest of the checkout line.
Nothing good can come of this voluntary graying of America, I tell you. It can only lead to the popularization of other trends like:
* Male pattern baldness haircuts
* Beaded necklaces made from Geritol, Pepcid and Viagra.
* Henna tattoo liver spots
* Crow’s feet facial decals
* Perpetually blinking stick-on turn-signals for hipster hybrid cars
* Instead of blinged-out grillz? BeDazzled dentures!
* Ugg boots designed to look like black socks with sandals
* Tiny ear-hair wigs
* Customized doorbell that shouts, “You kids get off my lawn!”
Gray hair may be the new “in” thing for some, but frankly, I’d much rather see it on those who have earned it the OLD-fashioned way.
BY BELINDA M. PASCHAL
With the recent upturn in temperatures, I’ve been on a quest for a reasonably priced spring jacket, something stylish but not too trendy and featuring enough pockets to serve as sort of a wearable purse. As I’m notorious for my hatred of shopping –which, along with my disdain for purse-toting, puts me in danger of having my Ladies’ Club membership revoked – I’ve been cruising the online clothing circuit. I guess you could say I’m doing a little Windows-shopping. (Ha! See what I did there?)
Because I’m just enough of a girl that I wouldn’t be caught dead in a jacket that conflicts with the rest of my ensemble, I’m looking for something in a neutral tone, preferably on the lighter end of the brown spectrum. One would think this would be a relatively simple search. One would be grossly mistaken.
What I found was a baffling array of choices – none of them accompanied by examples – like Chamois, Flax, String, Oakleaf and Pearl Bisque. (String?! Really?) Whatever happened to good ol’ lower-case khaki, beige or just plain tan?! Now, I understand trying to make colors more attractive-sounding, and I can figure out what Sand, Camel, Toast and Café-Au-Lait look like, but Praline Cream, Barley, Oatmeal and Biscuit?
Distracted by these undecipherable names (and a sudden craving for breakfast food), I forgot about shopping and got lost in a sea of Delicacy and Fatigue – not states of mind, but colors in the Chico’s catalog. Another site offers items in the color of Mud, which is about as clear as … well, its name, since one puddle of wet dirt can look different from the next.
Silly me, I always thought brown just came in light, medium and dark, but apparently, it also can be Havana, Aztec, Cordial, Hacienda and California Gold, the last of which I’m pretty sure is an illegal substance.
Seriously, I get it. I realize manufacturers can’t call ‘em as they see ‘em because who’d want to buy anything offered in Jaundice, Gaping Head Wound Red or Strained-Carrot Baby Barf? And I shouldn’t complain because it could be worse. Though I have no idea what Plumbago, Slurple and Haze look like, I’d be more likely to put them on my body than such Tudor-Era shades as Dead Spaniard, Goose-Turd and Blod (I don’t even want to know).
I did enjoy the color wordplay on an automotive website – Anti-Establish Mint, Last Stand Custard, There She Blue – and was thankful to find no cars offered in Gang Green, Salmon ‘Nilla or Pierced Navel Orange. (Though I AM lobbying for I Cannot Tell A Lilac.)
Paint-job possibilities aside, this catchy-naming trend has gotten out of control. What’s the world coming to when there’s a selection of more than a dozen names for what most of us know as black? I give up. Until someone invents a color decoder ring, I’m sticking to Fisher-Price products, where the colors come in primary red, blue and yellow.
BY BELINDA M. PASCHAL
Recently, I saw Tim Burton’s through-a-looking-glass-darkly interpretation of Lewis Carroll’s “Alice in Wonderland,” which even the dimmest single-celled organism knows has raked in about a gajillion dollars since it opened in theaters on March 5.
Though a bit more brightly landscaped than much of his previous work and shot in 2D-converted-to-3D, “Alice” is typical Burton fare: Surreal, whimsically absurdist, artfully cartoonish, and featuring the nepotistic casting of wife Helena Bonham Carter and Johnny Depp, godfather of the Carter-Burtons’ son. (Personal opinion: Adding a third dimension did little to enhance an already visually spectacular film, and I’m not just saying that because my poor depth perception makes 3D movies look like the fuzz on a hookah-smoking caterpillar.)
Some literary purists are all in a dither about Burton taking liberties with the original fairy tale – Corporate negotiations! An action scene with Alice in chain mail! – but many are becoming curiouser and curiouser about the director’s wonky re-imagining.
Most people know the story of Alice falling down the rabbit hole, but how many stop to ponder just HOW twisted a tale this is transmit to tots? “Alice's Adventures in Wonderland,” while written to entertain a preteen friend of Carroll’s, is a strange and hostile-bordering-on-sadistic narrative that’s just as appealing to adults as it is with children.
Adults’ fascination with “Alice,” proven by countless analyses of the story’s psychological underpinnings, prompted me to wonder why Hollywood doesn’t simply make fairy tales for the NC-17 crowd?
To that end, here are some suggestions for fairy tales and nursery rhymes I’d like to see adapted for the big and/or small screen:
* “Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs: A Study in Polygamy”
* “Narcoleptic Beauty”
* “Free-Range Chicken Little”
* “Addicted to Rogaine: The Rapunzel Story”
* “The Incontinent Duckling”
* “Mrs. Pumpkin Eater, Desperate Housewife”
* “The Tortoise and the Hare's Not-So-Amazing Race”
* “How I Met Your Mother Hubbard”
* “Two and a Half Men in a Tub”
* “Simple Simon Cowell”
* “The Emperor's New Clothes, Portrait of a Metrosexual”
* “Ring Around the Rosie O'Donnell”
* “Jack and Jill Plus Eight”
* “Beauty and the Beast 3: She’s REALLY Out of My League”
* “The Three Little Pigs in a Blanket with a Side of Hash Browns”
BY BELINDA M. PASCHAL
In the decade or so since Al Gore invented the Internet (just kidding – everyone knows it’s a surveillance device created by a superior alien species to observe us earthlings), it seems like the same 50 emails have been making the rounds. You know the ones – heart-tugging tales of missing/sick children; virus alerts, occasionally real but usually hoaxes; horror stories of people contracting the latest epidemic from a gas pump or pay phone – and so on and so on.
I’ve lost count of how many emails I’ve gotten notifying me that it’s National Friendship Day/Week/Month, but apparently, this “holiday” falls numerous times a year. And if there were any truth to the one about Microsoft sending x-number of dollars to everyone who forwards a particular email, Bill Gates would owe me $8,274.28.
But occasionally, I receive recycled email I don’t mind reading for the 923rd time, particularly “Questions That Make You Go ‘Hmmm.’” These oft-reprised lists feature thought-provoking inquiries like, “If the No. 2 pencil is the most popular, why is it still No. 2?” and “If the police arrest a mime, do they tell him he has the right to remain silent?”
In an effort to start a new email circulation craze, I’m submitting this selection of speculative stumpers. Feel free to pay ‘em forward:
* Why does bottled water have an expiration date?
* If a book about failure is bought by a million people, does that make it a success?
* Why don't we ever hear about people being gruntled or combobulated?
* If my car’s out of whack, is it “in whack” once it’s fixed?
* Why are coffin lids nailed shut?
* Why is it you never hear good-looking people say that beauty is only skin-deep?
* Can poisonous snakes poison each other?
* Why doesn't “added bonus” mean you get two bonuses?
* Why does Allstate insurance's disclaimer say “not available in all states”?
* Why does the LONE Ranger have a sidekick?
* If Yankee Doodle stuck a feather in his hat and called in “macaroni,” what did he call actual macaroni?
* If the Easter Bunny brings eggs, why don't chickens lay Peeps?
* Why do we tell kids not to take candy from strangers, but take them trick-or-treating?
* How come we say, “Heads up!” when we're warning someone to duck?
* Do English people eat American muffins?
* Why do “uphill battle” and “it was all downhill from there” both mean things are tough?
* Why doesn't Winnie the Pooh just get a “hunny” jar with a bigger opening?
* Speaking of honey, why does it come in plastic bears instead of plastic bees?
* Why aren't male ballet dancers called ballerinos?
* How can a mail-order item be labeled “free” if you have to pay shipping and handling?
* Is there an exception to the rule that there's an exception to every rule?
And finally, a conjectural query from the late George Carlin that would render this list non-existent if it had an answer: “What if there were no hypothetical questions?”
