Things I Don't Like vol. I

All right.  We knew this was coming.  Occasionally, instead of talking about stuff I like, I'm going to have to rant against things I don't like.  I'll try to keep this brief.

1) Leggings as pants/jeggings.  There's a classy way to wear leggings (under long shirts/short skirts).  Then there's wearing them to the gym, which, okay, I can kind of see that.  Then there's sweatshirt-leggings-uggs look that has been too justly abused elsewhere for me to feel justified in adding my own comments, beyond saying that I can't ever understand why someone would want to wake up in the morning and disguise their God-given charm and beauty by actively making themselves hideous.

Then there's jeggings. 

Maybe I'm out of the loop, but I have never seen jeggings worn well.  They always look tawdry.  Forget for a moment your concerns about how painfully unflattering they are on anyone who's not a size negative 2.  Neither is my revulsion a question of the immodesty of their clinging powers.  I'm all about skinny jeans.  Straight, super-skinny, drainpipe, sitting in a bathtub of hot water to get the second-skin fit.  Go for it, honey, you look fab.  But the jegging is, if I understand the term correctly, not quite a jean.  It's not denim, it's not even stretchy denim, it's some sort of elastic-cotton hybrid thing with maybe if you're lucky a zipper and a button.

Here's the problem: they try too hard, and fail too much, to look like they're "actually" jeans.  Instead it just sort of looks like an out-of-work Carnaval body-painter from Brazil got a bit tipsy and coated your legs with jeans-ish paint.

(If you click on that last link I apologize in advance for the damage to your retinas but sadly lack the funds to reimburse you for corrective surgery.)

Ladies: Don't do this to yourself.  Or to me.  Men: I know you're desperate to catch my eye (really, who wouldn't want to get with this?) but DON'T EVEN THINK ABOUT IT.

And for even more sartorial "EGADSWHATISTHAT," check out The Pajama Jean.

2) Microsoft Word.

Now, I love Microsoft Word in general.  It enables me to write stuff, and I love writing stuff.  I love the cornucopia of tools at my fingertips, I love the subtleties of the fonts, and I love the white expanse of paper with its gently blinking vertical line, inviting me to pour out my inmost thoughts to the comforting anonymity of my computer.  Some girls have diaries, I have Microsoft Word.

But sometimes it goes too far.

Early on I was vexed by Word's unsought commentary on my work.  We all remember the reign of the hated Clippy, who snidely questioned our abilities to compose business letters without his all-important help.  (Really, what sad soul decided that the best way to comfort and aid frustrated writers was with an anthropomorphized paper clip?  "Well, when I'm having trouble with my writing, I just talk to my favorite paper clip."  "Brilliant, Johnson!  We'll make you VP of Design for this!")  I had to train myself to ignore the red and green lines that showed a total insensitivity to what I was trying to accomplish.  (Sometimes a girl just wants to write "honour" instead of "honor."  Like, say, if she's quoting Claudius's speech from Hamlet.  Stupid Word.)  Worse, when I started writing fiction, my penchant for odd character names and burgeoning attempts at language construction meant I was spending an awful lot of time clicking the "Add to Dictionary" button. 
Now, sure, all this was tedious.  But what's really unforgivable is that Word is now commenting on my style.  It underlines things like "Passive Voice" and "Long Sentence."  Excuse me?  Excuse me?  What exactly is wrong with a long sentence?  How else am I supposed to express the idea of a subjectless action than by using the passive voice?  "Contractions."  Well, so what?  Maybe I'm writing a personal letter.  Maybe I'm experiementing with stream-of-consciousness.  Maybe I'm relating dialogue, you smug didactic software. 

And when you look at Word's suggestions for how you can make the little green line go away, you get eff-all in the way of help.  "Consider revising."  Well, I considered it, and rejected the idea, thanks.  So you can stop passing judgment on my stylistic choices.  No, really.  Stop.

Okay.  To cheer us all up here's Stephen Fry defending our right to use unorthodox English if we feel it's needed.  While I take offense to his implied attack on Lynne Truss, I do think it's very pretty.  And I will continue to boldly split my infinitives regardless of what Word or anyone else says.

Thank you, and good night.