To celebrate National Spoonerism Day, switch your sounds around as much as possible.
July is jammed with holidays. We started the month with World UFO Day. Then we raced into Independence Day, National Kissing Day, National Nude Day, and Yellow Pig Day. (The presidential candidate who will declare a three-day holiday weekend for all of these great celebrations has my vote) Today is National Spoonerism Day, a favorite of my logophile friends and me. Continue reading “National Spoonerism Day”
While PM Trudeau’s words had me wide-eyed and a little horrified, my accurate transcription fails to capture the accompanying awkward hand gestures that inspired a few hand gestures of my own, one in particular.
[This column first appears in the July 2019 issue of The Charleston Mercury.]
57 million straws a day
[In op-ed columnists’ latest installment of RAWW (Rants of an Angry White Woman) Patra Taylor introduces readers to the Straw men and empty suits of Canadian Prime Minister Justin Trudeau’s world.] Continue reading “Straw men and empty suits”
As I sat thinking of the glory days ahead, my almost liberated brain alit upon an interesting idea…a stay-cation in which I would do only what I really wanted to do for seven consecutive days and nights.
(This bit of family humor by Patra Taylor appeared in the June 2010 issue of The Charleston Mercury.
Three months of freedom begins
The morning of the last day of the school year found me counting the minutes until the final bell rang in anticipation of that glorious moment when I…ah, I mean, Benn could finally herald in the long-awaited Season of Freedom, more commonly referred in to in these parts as summer. Arriving at Benn’s school an hour early (he asked me not to be late), I sat in my vehicle along the carpool route enjoying the light breeze flowing through my open windows with delicious thoughts of nearly three whole months of not being jarred out of bed by that annoying beeping of my alarm clock dancing through my head. I knew I won’t be able to de-program myself from waking up at the same early hour as I always do, but allowing my eyes to flutter open of their own accord is a whole lot easier on certain of my vital organs. Continue reading “Stay-cation results in journey of no return”