One Giant Leap for Grammar Sticklers

Having lived on the Greek island of Mykonos for several years, and adopting phrases like- “I go make shopping now” and “I no want more ouzo”- I’m the first to admit that grammar is no longer my strong point.

But after years of being chided by historians and critics (I mean, isn’t enough that he walked on the moon people?), for not uttering the more dramatic and grammatically correct phrase “One small step for a man. . .” (um, he left out the “a” which according to those in the know, made one of history’s most famous quotes no more than a bunch of redundant gibberish, ultimately translating to “One small step for mankind, one giant leap for mankind"), Neil Armstrong has finally been redeemed.

Thanks to some high-tech, sound-editing software, computer programmer Peter Shann Ford found evidence of the missing “a” that was not only spoken, but transmitted to NASA, and so was able to prove that Armstrong had said it right (or would that be correctly?) all along.

Now if we could just clear up that whole “I’m a jelly donut” JFK debacle!

Only 87 days until Christmas!

I'm taking part in the awesome TeensReadToo 31 days of giving!

Click HERE to see how you can win an autographed copy of Faking 19, Art Geeks and Prom Queens, and Laguna Cove, along with a Sephora gift certificate- from me!

P.S. I'm Day 19!

15 Questions

I just completed a fun interview with YA Books Central! Click HEREto read it!

Mars & Venus

It was sometime around the second grade when it became known that my middle name is Noël. Not knoll, like Noel Coward. But Nowell. Like Christmas. Only French.

And even though there wasn’t a single eight-year old among us who could speak a foreign language, much less recognize one on paper (we just figured those were words we didn’t know yet), from the moment Mrs. Parker got called out of class, and Scott, who was well on his way to being Most Likely To End Up On America’s Most Wanted, ran to her desk, snatched the class roster, and scanned the list for embarrassing middle names to make fun of, life as I knew it would never be the same.

Recess, which once consisted of much anticipated cartwheel competitions, now became mini marathons, as I did my best to flee the surly band of thugs, armed with the lyrics of “The First Noël” that they sang at the top of their lungs. And it took me two full days to discover the one place, (besides the principal’s office), that none of them would willing enter.

But after nearly a week of being camped out in the girl’s bathroom, while my friends all progressed from cartwheels to back hand springs, I finally emerged, sweaty and defeated, head bowed in shame, as they descended upon me, harmonizing together in a lofty, prepubescent soprano.

“Why do they do it?” I wailed, looking to my mother for insight, while knowing that she alone was completely to blame, for giving me such an awful, horrible middle name.

But she just shook her head as she sat down beside me. And after pouring me some milk and passing me a cookie, she told me the scariest, most confusing thing I’ve heard to this day. “That’s what boys do when they like you,” she said, nodding as though it made sense.

Virtual Laguna

So apparently MTV has come up with a virtual version of Laguna Beach. One where according to the president of the MTV Networks Music, Film, and Logo Group, “You can not only watch TV, but now you can actually live it.” And with a virtual house and car costing as little as $4.99 a month, (which is about $1,999,995.01 than it costs just to own those two necessities in the real Laguna), I’m ready to move.

In pretend Laguna I can chose my height, weight, skin tone, and hair color (as opposed to relying on unpredictable things like genetics, carb consumption, malfunctioning mystic tan machines, and the whims of my colorist). And I’ll even have unlimited wardrobe choices where I can wear whatever I want without having to worry about my butt looking fat. Unless of course I want it to.

And with cute sexy lifeguards on stand by to greet all new arrivals, it’s clear that the real Laguna can no longer compete.

So I’m packing my bags and loading up the car. You can have your Real OC, I’m going virtual.

Want to come with me? Click here

Black vs. Pink

All this chick lit bashing is really starting to wear on me. For one thing, I think it’s ridiculous. Let people read and write what they want for gosh sake, I mean, what’s with all the harsh judging? And second, it’s all starting to seem so dismally junior high, a time I never hoped to revisit, with all it’s insult hurling, eye rolling, clique snubbing, and brainiacs versus the girls with good shoes war mongering.

And it’s not like this literary vs. commercial debate is anything new, that battle has been raging for years, and it’s really no secret who’s been wearing the dowdy stained apron and stirring the pot. But as much as they try to make it go away, chick lit is not going anywhere. Oh sure, they may tone down the covers, or even give it a new name, but as long as there are women, struggling to find the right job, the right guy, the right zip code, and yes, the right shoes, there will be fictional heroines to represent them.

Sometimes you want a heavy read, sometimes you want a light read- the freedom to choose without persecution is what really matters.


For a pretty hilarious take on all this click here