To Z or not to Z

Some people collect stamps. Others are bent on umbrella covers, air sickness bags or locks of celebrity hair. My ex-boyfriend’s Uncle Bruce, a park ranger, used to collect pieces of dried animal crap and fix them to his noticeboard until he’d identified them. What’s my hankering for, then? Well. I’ve got a thing for style guides. BBC television, Harvard medical school, the Financial Times – you name it, I know how they spell stuff. And what font they do it in. And how many line spaces should separate it all.

It’s a bit batty, I know. A bit obsessive and it certainly has its fair share of nerd about it. But it’s all about control, see. There’s nothing worse than some smarmy little goody-two-shoes from the 8:30 sparrow-fart block asking if they should put a full-stop after Mr, or a space between multiple first-name initials in academic references, when all I can think of is how I got home with one shoe last night, and why I seem to have carried a Flemish signpost with me. Or worse – just how linguistically valid the word gotten is: an unfortunate mutilation of got, or the perfectly valid present perfect form have gotten? There are only two ways out of this. Tell the smartass bastard to look it up for homework and report back to the class next week (usually a foolproof method), or, if he’s a particularly persistent breed, throw the European Commission’s Style Guide for Editors, Proofreaders and Translators at him. And hope to god it knocks him out.

Some tell me I should just relax. To lose sleep over important things, like whether my deep-red-but-not-quite-maroon cowboy boots will last another winter with the heel shorn down as it is. Instead, what really disturbs my nocturnal activity are nightmares in which em-dashes masquerade as en-dashes and en-dashes turn up ominously where hyphens should be. And hyphens popping up peskily in compound adjectives where they appear before a noun but are preceded by an adverb, dressed in black and white doing a go-go dance as if to taunt me. It’s awful.

And then there’s the political side of it all. American spelling or British? Militate for either and you run the risk of sympathising with either the colonial or the new global imperialists. Fight for middle ground and what you end up with is Australian spelling that is effectively British but for the spelling of the word program. What about something new entirely then? That’s a minefield in itself – ever heard of ghoti? It’s the phonetic spelling for ‘fish’: the gh from enough, the o in women and the ti from information. Not to mention political correctness: having to use the cumbersome ‘he or she’ all the time, or, what’s worse, the inevitably pompous ‘one’.

Even when you get on top of things at last it just won’t stay the same. It used to be that you’d be hauled before a firing squad for using the first person in an essay, and even thinking about a split infinitive was enough to get you dragged over the coals. Funnily enough though, the most famous split infinitive of the English language – Star Trek’s endearing “To boldy go” has endured in the face of militant political correctness in changing the latter half of the sentence to “where no one has gone before.”

Punctuation I’ve really got a love-hate relationship with. One the one hand, there’s the light of my life, the semi colon. Just when you think a comma’s not enough but a full-stop’s pushing it, gallantly to the rescue hastens the semi-colon. On the other hand, wayward apostrophes have become the bane of my existence, more so than my one-hinged pantry door that juts out right at smack-between-the-eyes height. I’ve steadfastly avoided Mamas’s Kitchen, Jims’ kebabs and Wynyard Stations’ womens’ toilets because frankly I’m wary of showing tacit support to those with such a tenuous grasp of possessives.

But worse than the occasional grammatical error are those unavoidable lexical misunderstandings such as telling the unsuspecting American that your thong’s dirty, or asking to borrow their rubber. It’s no wonder my students – who are mostly Dutch, and German – are so confused when it comes to English. Theoretically I’m supposed to teach them British English, but when I bloody can’t remember the difference myself between enroll and enrol and judgement and judgment that’s harder than the dried crap on Uncle Bruce’s pinboard. Then there’s the question of the z or the s: organise, realise, analyse – don’t even get me started on conceptualise and visualise. In short, the only useful function Zs serve these days is for aged cartoonists to put their characters to sleep.

Not to mention clichés, such as appropriating shamelessly overused quotes from dead white Brits. Shakespeare in particular.

Rectifying oversights

I'm loathe to let you know that you forgot one the most important party niches: Beach Parties. Sometimes combined with the Office Party or We Love Sand in our Knickers S&M Party, it is best occasioned hand in hand with a barbecue and a heavy dose of vodka. Things to do: try writing obscene words on people's backs in sunscreen. This works especially well if you can get a kid without getting noticed. Nothing's more entertaining than the sight of a rabid parent standing next to a rubber dinghy who hasn't quite yet decided where to direct their anger. Second, see if you can bring along a hefty redneck who enjoys catching eels with their bare hands. This will cut down your overheads as you can just throw it right on the barbie. What not to do: drink and dive. Nothing makes The Man happier than the sight of you and all your friends floating face down in the shallows as dusk falls ... so don't give him the satifaction. Take floaty wings.

Oh, and I've just remembered another fun-filled event which really maximises attendence and participation. It's the Party at Which Both Your Current Boyfriend and Ex-Boyfriend Are At. For optimal effect be sure to bring sumo-wrestling suits and set up a ring that is closely surrounded by glass coffee tables and expensive Egyptian vases. Liberally apply alcohol and if you're feeling really adventurous, leave the potato and mayonnaise salad out in the sun for several hours before serving to all the other guests. This will ensure that not only you and your boys get in on the action. As people start to leave with vomit dribbling down their chins or large chunks of glass embedded in their scalps, stand by the door handing out "I Survived [insert name]'s Party." They're guaranteed to cherish it forever.

Parties: A Crash Course

Since the Dawn of Time, Man has wanted to Party. Woman too. Just this year, archaeologists have discovered the remains of a 30-million-year-old human ancestor, with a brain the size of a nickel, holding a glowstick. (Come to that, I met a guy with a brain the size of a nickel in Purple Sneakers just last week.)

But, for just as long as there have been parties, people have been left disappointed, frustrated and confused. There’s a reason it’s called “throwing” a party. Throw it well, and it’ll soar. Throw it badly, and it’ll fall flat, or put someone’s eye out, and lead to messy legal proceedings.

So, before you hold your next party, think about all the best parties you’ve been at…

House Parties - No, I don’t mean parties where you play house music. I mean parties that you hold at your house. (Having said that, there’s nothing to stop you from playing house music at your House Party and having a House House Party. Go right ahead. Indeed, you can even watch acclaimed medical drama series House at said House House Party, making it a House House House Party.) What was I saying again? Oh yeah. House Parties are great.

Costume Parties - When else could you make out with Marilyn Monroe, sing karaoke with Marcel Marseau, or beat up Osama bin Laden? Anyone with a passing acquaintance with The Bard knows that Romeo and Juliet met at a costume party. And that ended up happily, right? Right? Right? Right. Themed parties also add an extra element of fun to proceedings. Why not give your party a theme, like Superheroes, Hollywood Stars, or Characters from the Collected Works of Fyodor Dostoevsky? And, if you really enjoy pretending to be someone else, why don’t you try identity theft? Try stealing mail, eavesdropping on other people’s personal transactions or hacking into computer databases.

Bachelor Parties - A Bachelor Party is the party at which you’re most likely to have two strippers turn up and lick whipped cream off each other’s private parts. (Except perhaps the Liberal Party.) Yes, yes, I know: apparently you’re only supposed to have a Bachelor Party when you’re getting married - but with divorce rates like they are and it being the 21st century, it is becoming increasingly acceptable to get married purely to have a Bachelor Party.

Dinner Parties - Traditionally the domain of married couples, Dinner Parties are a classy affair, usually involving candlelight, a nice dinner, a nice bottle of wine, a domestic spat, a spontaneous act of infidelity in the laundry room, and Kenny G records. [CAUTION: Prolonged exposure to Kenny G records may cause dizziness, mottled skin, loss of appetite, paranoia, baldness, dark urine, gastrointestinal upset and impotence FOREVER.]

Office Parties - There are some things that were never meant to go together. Nitric acid and zinc. Pineapple and pizza. Catherine Zeta-Jones and Michael Douglas. But by far the most lethal combination - far more frightening than any mere chemical reaction or Domino’s Hawaiian - is work colleagues and alcohol. Letting loose and chilling out with your workmates might sound like a good idea at first but, by the end of the night, James from IT is dancing with his shirt off, Max from Sales is telling the Boss what he really thinks of him, and Rob from Accounting is having his way with Jill from Reception in the corner… The phrase “You’ll never live it down” was invented for Office Parties.

McDonald’s Parties - We all remember these. Due to the age ceiling, having a real McDonald’s Party is a bit difficult for those of us over 10 years old (i.e. most of the 3D World readership). However, feel free to turn up to McDonald’s with all of your mates, buy 27 soft serve cones for about eight dollars, and dance the night away. You’ll have fun. Trust me.

Cast Parties - All those weeks of rehearsing have paid off, and your musical society’s production of Jesus Christ Superstar was a huge success! Ashfield Community Hall has never seen anything like it! So, it’s time to get together one last time, have some punch, play drama games and have everyone join in a lovely sing-along of I Don’t Know How To Love Him.

Tupperware Parties - In need of some plastic containers in which to store rice, pasta, Thai stir-fry or any number of other tasty dishes? Then you’re in need of a Tupperware Party. Contact your local FridgeSmart consultant (what a job!), get together with your fellow housewives, and find out about the exciting world of keeping food fresh! Mmm! For best results, combine with Bachelor Party.

Coming-Out Parties - What better way to celebrate coming out of the closet about your BIG SECRET than holding a party? If you manage to get everyone drunk, half the people there won’t even remember your BIG SECRET by the time it’s morning - except your parents, who will disown you. Sorry.

Search Parties - Trying to find a lost loved one in a national park by torchlight with police and wilderness-trained emergency medical personnel at your side can be a fun and exciting way to spend a Friday night. Make sure you don’t forget to play the Grease Mega-Mix.