Mmm. Chocolate Pudding

They had chocolate pudding at the Indian restaurant where I ate lunch.

Also, the Butcher washed my iPod (I KNOW!!!!) and yet, today, it magically came back to life.

Let us sing a little song for chocolate pudding and my iPod.

Ha, but first, can I make a confession?  Some days, it’s all I can do not to teach this nine year old kid the song that never ends, just so that I can imagine him singing it endlessly from the back seat of his father’s car.

Do not leave me alone with your 9 year old sons or I will have them singing, “This is the song that never ends.  It just goes on and on my friend.  Some people started singing it, not knowing what it was.  Now they’ll continue singing it forever just because…”

Chocolate pudding and magical iPods….

Oh, chocolate pudding is so sweet

And, it makes an awesome treat.

But there’s nothing better in the world

Than finding out that your iPod is not squirreled.

Ha, okay, maybe not.


For you, dear Plimco, I will try to address the comma rule.  I must say, though, that this is difficult for me because I love commas.  I throw them in whenever I think two clauses need a tiny break between them.

That, I think, is the comma’s main job–to give your eye a chance to rest before scurrying down the rest of the sentence.

So, you can use a comma between clauses: I saw Mrs. Mustard in the library with a candlestick, but I was too afraid to scream.

You can use a pair of commas to set off part of a sentence that’s less important than the rest.

Say Don Coyote burst into the room, yelling, “Which way did that girl go with my tamales?”

We could say, “Don Coyote, the girl, who was wearing blue shoes, went that way.” and it would be fine to set “who was wearing blue shoes” off with commas, because that’s just added information.  He’ll still be able to find the girl whether or not she has blue shoes on.

But say that Exador burst into the room and said, “Did you see that stripper who ran off with all my money?” and say that we’d actually seen two women in g-strings come through, each with a load of cash.

Then we would say, “The girl who was wearing the gold g-string is upstairs.”  See, if we take out the clause “who was wearing the gold g-string,” Exador loses vital information that would let him discern which woman he should chase.

You can also use commas to separate items in a series.  I went on a walk, had some breakfast, and typed on the computer.

But you must never use a comma to break up two complete thoughts. 

Let’s use this example:

I cannot leave.  I’m having your baby.

Right now, with a period separating them, they seem like two very distinct thoughts.  I cannot leave.  Also, I am having your baby.

But say that I want you to get that I cannot leave you because I’m having your baby.  I may feel that the period is too strong a break between them, that those two clauses need to be joined by something softer, more delicate.

I cannot leave, I’m having your baby.


No, for sentences whose meanings are more closely linked than could be implied by a period and yet are too independent for a comma (note that, in order to make the sentence above correct, I could add a conjunction of some sort–but, and, if, therefore, etc.), I must reach for that rarest of punctuation mark: the semicolon.

I cannot leave; I’m having your baby.

Tada!  Oh, semicolon, I love you.  Have my babies.  No, wait, I’ll have yours.  Depending on the font size, I should be able to squirt out your kids no problem. 

Little Love Notes from B.

Dear Mrs. Wigglebottom:

I don’t know if you’ve noticed but the garbage men are just as afraid of you as you are of them.  If you would please stop shaking and cowering when we go by them, I would appreciate it.


Aunt B.


Dear Garbage Men:

That’s right.  My dog will eat your face off if I just give her the word, so don’t fuck with us.  You seem nice, but don’t try anything hinky.


Aunt B.


Dear Old Man:

I’m trying to eat.  Look, right here, you’ll see a plate of food that I was ingesting.  But I’m not now.  You know why?

Because I watched you pull your contact out of your eye, swish it around in your mouth for a good five minutes, and then put it back in your eye.

I could have forgotten about that, except that you spent the rest of the meal facing away from me, picking at whatever was on the back of your head that was leaking puss all in your hair.

Can I reiterate?  I was trying to eat.  If you have to pick at some kind of puss-filled head sore and then twirl your hair around in the excess, go out in the hall.  Better yet, seek help.

Gah, it makes me want to throw up just to type this.


Aunt B.


Dear Plimco,

Holy shit!  I’d say more, but I don’t want to compromise your anonymity.  Still, wow, and holy shit.

You’ll have to tell me how your yodeling went. Did you have to yodel?


Aunt B.