Here’s another always-overdue installment in my malapropism series, in which I and my crack
addicts team of helpers collect real-life mistakes and misspellings, which I combine into some semblance of a coherent composition. Malaprop count: 47. See previous malaprop posts by clicking here.
I don’t want to be the barer of bad news, so let me say right now that my health is in tack and the nogules in my throught are gone. Good riddens! I guess I have good kharma. Thank goodness for a tight nit group of friends that shows old fashion kindness and would go to the mattress for me.
Sense my last addition, so much has happened, and I want to insure I cover my basis. Rumors have been running rampid! Encase you heard something ridicules about me, let me say that this summer I have not sewn my wild oats. It is all heresay. To give you an inkling into the situation, all you have to do is go out to dinner with someone at some whole in the mall, and, whala! people are all disproving. I don’t see why they make such a gynormous deal about something as trifle as that. I’m not nieve or fridged or anything, but believe me, this relationship is not going at mock speed, and the guy is anything but a stocker. In fact, for the timebeing his disinterest is starting to make me think I don’t pass mustard. It’s too bad, because as a perspective partner he suits me to the tea, but I’m not so self-diluted as to think he’s showing a smigin of interest. Sometimes I even think the forces of nature are colliding against me and I will be that old bitty who never finds her sole mate.
Well, need less to say, this is barely scathing the surface, but the rest is self explanitary. With no further adieu, it’s just the stero-type story of a girl who is still hoping, albeit the lack of a financee. But such as life.