stella and her asshole linguistic ways.

stella occassionally likes to think i don't know how to pronounce words in English or Spanish or Latin. and because she's got this big fancy linguistics degree, she like to sometimes correct me in her 'grammar nazi' voice (the truly annoying thing about this is that 9.5 times out of 10, when i mis-pronounce something, i'm doing it on purpose. hello. except the Latin, i'll admit to screwing up the Latin every single time). the point of this?

she ruined my becks dream last night!

earlier yesterday i watched her posting of the beckhams, posh and hottie mchottiestein beckham, on the ali g. show. pretty funny. it's true, my boy becks seems to be a man of few words...er...grunts...er ...thoughts.

but, if we're all honest here, we don't love the becks for his brain. we love him for his athletic prowess. the man is a soccer god. no one runs up and down the field like becks.

or, as stella kept insisting in my dream last night, like beaks. there i was, hanging out with becks at some fancy schmancy bar or bordello or something, saying 'becks this' and 'becks that' and suddenly there's stella, shaking her finger at me.

'inga,' she said, emphasis on the 'ga.' she shook her finger some more. 'honestly. it's beaks, not becks. they're the beakhams. not the beckhams. my father, you know, lives in England.' then she looked down her nose at me and shook her head sadly. voila. then becks was gone, and poor old inga was alone at the bar, yelling, 'becks! come back! becks!'

stupid linguists.