And how exactly should we refer to a person's co-habitant without the formality of marriage? Somehow the use of "live-in" in my last post seemed somewhat vague. Using the term "live-in lover" seems a little over-the-top and frankly paints a picture I don't want to look at. And once people are in their 50's, "boyfriend" and "girlfriend" should no longer apply. Ladyfriend? Manfriend? I'm afraid they're simply dating. Husband and wife are clearly incorrect because these people have made a conscious decision to not be exactly that.
Oh well, I'll just ask my roomie.
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Why do we have such nondescript terms to reference our loved ones? Think about spouse, lover, live-in, roommate, etc. In France, they have ways of distinguishing the sex by the form of word used. Those wiley French have thought of everything. They would be perfect, but too bad they worship Jerry Lewis. Now, I like the Nutty Professor as much as much as the next guy, but they think the guy is an idol.
I think every inanimate object in Europe is categorized as either feminine or masculine. What little I remember of high school German, I do recall various forms of "the" depending on the gender of the object (e.g. die tur, der tisch for "the door" and "the table"). To clarify, in German, my co-author for this blog would be die mitautor.
Strange that you bring up German, because I heard an interesting story about repression recently. There is a theory that we all have repressed something in our lives, and therefore, we are somewhat below our potential. For example, some of us may have wanted to be a doctor, but got sidetracked, didn't have the money for medical school, or had other priorities, such as kids to consider which eventually distracted us from our goals. The theory is that we somehow repress these dreams and end up in situations or jobs or whatever in less than what we are truly passionate about, and eventually in less than satisfying results.
So what's the link to German, you may say, Sauer-kraut? Well, there is a story about Adolf Hitler who initially had been interested in Art, but for some reason was not admitted to a famous Art School. Instead of pursuing his passion, he became sidetracked and the rest is history. Imagine, his repression resulted in WWII.
I always wanted to be traffic light repairman that only worked in the summer. Instead I ended up with this dead end job posting comments on the Internet.
I think you should utilize some caution before u-turn this into a turnabout blog for rotary club members. I know it's a slipper slope and may thing I'm all wet, but you seem to be running into some bumps like you're on speed or something.
I realize you like to drive the dialog, but think you need to curb your enthusiasm as you pave the way with your ideas, or else we'll be on the road to having too much rage from our visitors and may not keep up with all the web traffic which could bring down our site. And then what? We'd be under construction awaiting a new site!
Then it would be your dumb, fat, hairy as-phalt!
Hey pal, it's my way or the highway.
This is sure taking its toll on me. Kind of like the new math where everything seems like sub-division.
This new math wouldn't be so difficult if you had an IQ higher than the median IQ of common houseplants.
Wow, this post is really taking a left turn. Perhaps, you should have signaled your intentions early on, if that's the direction you are really headed.
I wasn't trying to mis-street you; I thought you road those jokes of yours as far as you could. Avenue 'ad enough of this subject?
What? I seem to recall that you stood up in a crowded theatre during the last showing of Roots, and Bou-Levard Burton before you were taken away to jail. Before your court date, it was a shame what happened to you when your jailmate began to cul-de sac.
If you get tarred of working one day, come over to the jail and oil give you de-tour.
Guess you're not such a bump on a log afterall, but heard you were getting congested from the recent change in weather. Guess we'll cross that bridge when we come up to it. Did you ever run into that Lane alumni who is in that dead end job?
You mean that "Roads Scholar" who tried to sell me hazard insurance? I remember he wanted no money down but three years of "easy" pavements.
This is really going downhill. I think I'll just work on my cross road puzzle instead.
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