THE MALAPROPISM QUEEN

Thought I'd throw in a little humor today. Wrote this a long time ago.

Around my house and with my friends, I was known as Miss Malpro--short, of course, for Miss Malapropism. I did not contest this title. I did know how to "turn a phrase." My bloopers, completely unintentional, brought varied responses--chuckles, snickers, at times, gazes of unbelief. For me, they gave me the perfect chance to laugh at myself, and with each occurrence, my laughter became more hilarious.

I learned to be cautious when I held a conversation and a "saying" was next in line in my sentence. I learned to hesitate, ever so slightly, so that I wouldn't confound folk with unexpected phrases such as "I don't want to rattle your boat." Or what about this one? "I listened with a fine-toothed comb." (I said that one in front of the whole church!)

I remember one of my famous ones years ago when as my husband and I witnessed a close call for a cat trying to use up one of his (or her) nine lives as it crossed the highway. "You almost lost your lunch," I cried to the poor fear-stricken creature. My husband just gave me a sidelong glance. I recognized the glance and fell apart with laughter. Then he laughed at my laughter!

My way with words is innocent, spontaneous, unexpected, unrehearsed. My husband, on the other hand, had his own way with words and sometimes I wonder if my "dead as a door knob" and "bull in a china cabinet" are not somewhat the result of a cruel, heartless conspiracy on his part as he carefully thought out clever ways to say normal, everyday words and phrases. Ever eaten at the "International Pan of Housecakes?" Remember that quaint and warm television series, "Little Prayer on the Housie?" And what about the all-American fast food chain, "McHammel's Dog Burgers?"

When I worked as a pharmacy technician, he approached my colleague, the pharmacist, and asked him, "What is it called when a pharmacist gives out the wrong medication?" Simple. Transaccidental medication.

One day at work, he was struggling to cut back an overgrown bush, and the homeowner, attempting to be helpful, was pushing down on the branches which only prevented the chainsaw from doing its work. "Do you know what this is called?" my husband asked with a grin. "Binding arbor-tration." Of course.

I never sing the correct words to most songs because I always heard them sung wrong. "There were tears in my ears from crying on my pillow." "Whatsa matta you, Ralphie." "Around the world in 80 payments." Some of my favorites are the very ones that cause people to look at me in unbelief, like, "I dream of Brownie with the light blue jeans." Often I catch myself only after I am well into the song. "Something in the way she cooks, gives me indigestion." Ugh! Why can't I re-program! I'm always having to appear casual, like I was fully aware that I sang the wrong words. I have perfected the "I-did-that-on-purpose" look!

Secretly, I hoped to see my husband caught at his own game, perhaps at a Round Up picnic, in front of 300 men and boys, over the loud speaker, leading a sing-along, singing one of his favorites loud and clear..."Oh, give me a home where the buffalo roam, and I'll show you a messy house." I wanted to be standing at the back of the crowd at the Chuck Wagon table in the shade of the oak tree, stirring the pork and beans in the crockpot and I'd be chuckling, "Misery is good for the gander!"

I don't do the malapropism thing much anymore. Age has groomed me into a finer, more poised woman. I "shine like a rose" now, and I "don't bat an eye" when faced with having to speak in front of others. I'm "sharp as a button." Life is too busy now. I had to "get off the whirlwind." My malapropisms are now "far and few between."

My advice? Be careful what you say and remember that "occupancy is 90% of the law."