Tag Archives: Furby

Dear John,

6 Jun

There’s no easy way to say this.  Otorhinolaryngologist?  OtorhinolarynGOLogist?  I’m not sure.

It should come as no surprise to you that you’re being dumped.  I’ve been alluding to it all over the internet.  Haven’t you been reading my cagey, elusive Facebook statuses?  They were classics.   “Sometimes I just wish …”?  Gold.  “I wish you could feel how I feel … because then you’d feel bad …”  Right to the point.  “That moment when you’ve ended your graduate school career and so are no longer technically allowed to write a university-sponsored blog?”  Well, that one was a little more clear.

But I’ve been dropping hints that this relationship is over.  Because if you thought that that one status –“He’s the reason for the teardrops on my guitar … heart symbol” — was just a friendly reminder about the erosive effects of water on polished maple, then you were WRONG, but should maybe consider a career in woodworking, because we could really use people like you.

So there’s no easy way to say this: Hepaticocholangiocholecystenterostom–oh, I already made a joke like that?  That’s my bad.  That’s on me.

This is the last OFFICIAL post of Grammarsaurus Rex.  Some of you may not know this, but this blog has been graciously sponsored by the University of Cincinnati.  I have recently ended my glorious career as a graduate student there, and as such, will no longer be writing for them.

The next phase in the UC grammar blog project will continue at english1001.weebly.com under brand new authorship and ownership.  I know nothing about this blog, except that I am certain it will be wonderful, as the author sent me a nice email and that made me feel good.  I am also unsure what a weebly is, though I have to assume that it is something like an epileptic cousin of a Furby.

At some point, I will likely transition this blog to a new domain.  It may focus on grammar; it may not.  We’ll see.  But I’ll notify you when and if that time comes.  But for now, I’m taking some time to finally get to know the real me.  Whoops, sorry: that was a typo.  I meant get to know the real Mii.  I’m going to spend a lot of time playing video games.

So this is where we end things.  You know how it goes.  All six of the friends drop their keys on the dining room table and they head down to Central Perk.  The gang is put on trial for being horrible people.  Hawkeye spies the “goodbye” message left by B.J.  Dukie’s descent is juxtaposed with Bubble’s ascent and we all weep for Bodymore, Murderland.  The island was … purgatory?

Also, my identical twin would like to point out that “it’s not you; it’s me.”  But this is less of a commentary on this psedu-breakup note and more of a thing she said looking at an old photograph.


Grammarsaurus Rex

This post is not to be confused with a current “Saved as Draft” posted entitled “Dear Don Jon previews … thank you.”


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