Apostrophe’s

I’ve written before about my intense annoyance with people who can’t quite figure out how to use apostrophes and quotation marks. In fact, I’ve often thought about sending violators on my message boards a link to this site with a plea that they read and study it before embarrassing themselves further.

Here’s a related annoyance: people who add a possessive to a business name when there isn’t supposed to be one. I noticed this years ago when I kept hearing people refer to a local queer bar in Charlotte as “Scorpio’s” when the name, in fact, was “Scorpio”. People apparently assumed (erroneously) that it was founded by some guy named George M. Scorpio or something. I also noticed that people said things like “I’m going down to Kmart’s”, which no doubt was named for famed retailing genius Abraham J. Kmart.

I assumed it was just another southern oddity — like “license” being treated as a plural word because it ends in an “s” sound — until I moved to California and heard people talking about shopping at something called “Lucky’s”. There was never a supermarket chain called “Lucky’s” in California, although there was one called “Lucky”. Even today, newspaper columnists — who should know better, at least in theory — make the same mistake.

It’s OK to do this with stores that really DO use the possessive in their names and advertising, like Kinko’s (actually named after a guy whose nickname was “Kinko”) and Macy’s. I can even forgive it in cases of companies that used the possessive in their names in the PAST, like J.C. Penney, which was still installing “Penney’s” signage as late as the early 1970s, and Belk, which caused a little bit of controversy in North Carolina when it lost its “s” in the late 1960s. Lucky and Kmart, though, don’t fit into either of these categories.

Saying “Lucky’s” or “Costco’s” or “Kmart’s” sounds just plain silly…

I Like It Here

After more than six months, the strangest things still make me almost giddily happy to have departed The City of Doom for good. Like, for example, the beef tips and fried squash at Gus’ Sir Beef or the fact that I can go to the grocery store pretty much any time of day, find what I need, and buy it without spending a half hour in line and another half hour trying to park when I get home…

Today’s thing that makes me excited, oddly enough, is that I’m going to the auto glass place to get a repair done on Mark‘s car. I spent a lot of time at the auto glass place in San Francisco, but it’s different this time. I’m getting a naturally-occurring crack in the windshield fixed rather than a broken window…

Yes, I’m going to the auto glass place. And it excites me because I’m not doing it as a result of the actions of some differently-socialized substance abuser with no options in life slimy crack-addled piece of shit, but as a regular bit of routine maintenance. Plus, it’ll probably cost less here too…

That Spunky Clay Aiken

So apparently Clay Aiken had unprotected boysex in a Quality Inn (per the National Enquirer and via Stumble):

The paper says “Paulus passed a polygraph exam” and “provided copies of instant message conversations he claims he had with bachelor Aiken over a two-week period.” He also says he “has towels he says were used by Aiken from the sexual encounter which he claims contains the singer’s DNA.”

Hmmm. I’ll bet the Quality Inn folks would like to talk to Mr. Paulus about the whereabouts of those towels. I don’t think you’re really supposed to take them out of the room with you when you leave…

“See this hat? I bought it at the cutest little store in Charleston. Check out my cool refrigerator magnets and postcards from Savannah. And don’t forget my spooge-encrusted towels and DNA samples from the Quality Inn in North Carolina.”

I miss the old days when people collected normal things like matchbooks and ashtrays…