The first installment of Paul’s Grammar Pet Peeves, “Part 1 of Literally Millions,” garnered literally fives of comments, some of them from people I didn’t even go to college with. So it’s clear to me that nothing excites you, the IBD reader, like reading about things that annoy me. With that, I give you five more pet peeves!

Comprised of/Composed of
The phrase comprise means to include or to be made up of. For instance, you could correctly say, “Shea Lewis’s wardrobe comprises many sweater vests.” The word compose means to make or form. So you could say, “Shea Lewis’s wardrobe is composed of many pastel shirts.”

When you say this: “Shea Lewis’s wardrobe is comprised of stylish and contemporary clothing,” you are both factually and grammatically off the mark. Not only does Shea look like the late Illinois Senator Paul Simon when he goes out in public, but the phrase is comprised of is grammatically nonsensical. It translates from English to English as is included of or is made up of of. (Thanks to Nick Racine for pointing out that Paul Simon was a senator from Illinois, not Minnesota, as I originally posted. I must have been thinking of Al Franken, who is a senator from Minnesota and played Paul Simon on Saturday Night Live.)

Lie/Lay
I frequently hear people say that they are tired and need to lay down. This makes sense only if they are carrying a large, heavy box, which would explain why they are tired and what they intend to lay down. Usually, however, they are not carrying anything and what they mean to say is that they need to lie down. The act of laying (time to put on our mature faces, people) requires a direct object (stay with me, I see those smirks), as in, “I need to lay down this large, heavy box.” When you position yourself in the angle of repose, you are lying down.

What complicates this one is the past tense. The past tense of lay is laid; the past tense of lie is lay. Not to mention what happens when your you’re talking about those Hawaiian flower necklaces: “I laid down those leis and then lay down.” (Note: Thanks to Sarena Gill for catching my misuse of “your” in the previous example. Sarena is no longer welcome here.)

Its/It’s
Okay, so this is one of those quirks that makes people learning English as a second language want to stab native English speakers in the neck with a fork. Adding an apostrophe-S to a word makes it possessive. Just adding an S makes it plural. So why, then, does adding apostrophe-S to “it” not make it possessive? And why is it that just adding an S to it does make it possessive? The simple answer is that “it’s” already serves as the conjunction “it is,” so to make it less confusing, we English speakers invented a new rule that applies only to this one tiny word, making “its” possessive, thereby confusing everybody. You’re welcome, speakers of other languages.

One technique to try is to replace all instances of “it’s” with “it is” or “it has” and see if it works. Then replace all instances of “its” with “his or her” and see if that works. If it does, then you’re good to go. If it doesn’t, you are ready for a career as a writer for The New York Post.

Everyday/Every Day
Everyday (one word) is most commonly an adjective, but it can also be a noun. It means commonplace or ordinary. Every day (two words) is an adjective followed by a noun. The phrase simply means daily. For example: “Every day, the everyday activities of my life make me want to stab myself in the neck with a fork.”

Here’s another sentence to consider: “Every day, I think that Dave Matthews should have had a grammarian look at his album cover before he named an entire album ‘Everyday,’ unless he actually meant to say that his music is average or ordinary.”

Presently/Currently
Presently means soon. Currently means now. If you say you’re on your way presently, it means you haven’t left yet. If you say you’re on your way currently, then you are actually en route.

I have recently been encouraged to be more emotional in my writing, and I’m not sure how that makes me feel.

I’m a highly emotional guy who is excellent at hiding my true feelings or thoughts. That may be a surprise to you coming from a guy who keeps a blog packed with insightful, hilarious, introspective, creative and clever observations (okay, perhaps hilarious was taking it too far, how about “moderately annoying”?) that he shares with the world. This post is a departure for me since it is my nature to be sarcastic and it is much easier for me to take sucker punches at Paul.

But as IBD reader Kelly Farrell has pointed out in the past, we work in a profession that has defined interpretation as “a mission-based communication process that forges emotional and intellectual connections.” If we are to connect with visitors the emotional element has to be given priority over the intellectual.

At the recent NAI National Workshop in Hartford, Connecticut, I felt a connection, a connection between IBD (Paul and me) and our readers. Let’s face it, despite a WordPress plug-in (that Paul and I place way too much value in and check way too many times a day) that monitors our visitation statistics, it has yet been determined if anyone actually reads our posts. The other element that bothers us is, of those who read, how many people are we inspiring change in?

After hearing many positive, encouraging comments (plus three negative comments and one distinct incident of the “stink eye”) from many workshop participants, I really felt part of a bigger community, a very strange, outspoken community. I wanted to take this opportunity to say thank you.

Phil Broder, thank you for sharing a copy of your kiting magazine that is now completely Comic Sans free.  The other things you shared via text message would have us arrested in several states.

Scott Mair, thanks for the encouragement and the hugs.

Jay Miller, your kind comments after the awards banquet were just what I needed to hear, thanks.

Marc Blakburn, our conversation was meaningful, I’m glad you care and I appreciate your support.

To the NAI member who bought our book and was looking for Shea so that “she” could sign it, I appreciate you for keeping me grounded. It is true, I am a man.

Lori Spencer, Julia Clebsch, and Susie Edwards, thank you.

Paul, thank you for editing my work. Being the “grammar guy” is really pretty cool.

Ted Cable, thank you for going birding with us (that was a total name drop and  that may be slightly related to a man crush).

Amy Ford, thank you for singing and sharing with me.

Sometimes in life people cross your path that just belong. Jeff Miller, I love you too.

Jane Beattie, I like the way you think. You took a picture in Italy and instead of sending it directly to Paul, you saved it, waited for the right moment and emailed it to me at the workshop so that I could make this punch line.

Caputo Appliances: Our repairman (Paul) is the loneliest guy in town.

Punch line explanation: is a play on the great Maytag tagline/slogan of the 60s (this is for all you generation y’rs that didn’t get it). Jane thank you for taking pictures of signs.

For all of the lurkers out there, thanks for reading. You know who you are, and we know your IP address.

Todd Bridgewater, you are IBD’s new creative director, thanks for the great ideas and sharing the free internet in the lobby.

Lisa Brochu (co-author of IBD who, due to creative differences, is primarily absent from IBD the blog) thank you for the kind and encouraging comments about me and the work Paul and I are doing. It is true we are writing for a “very specific audience.” An audience that is fascinated with the differences between typefaces, loves sausage, can talk about color for hours, and use the phrase World Champion New York Yankees as often as possible.

NAI Staff, thank you all (Tim, Lisa, Paul, Jamie, Russy, Carrie and Beth) for working so hard for us in Hartford.

I had one final connection while flying home from the workshop. I woke up with my head on the shoulder of a sweet lady who had the middle seat. When I awoke suddenly, unsure of my surroundings, finding myself in this embarrassing situation, she kindly said that I “was cute.” After I apologized and I asked her if I had been snoring she said “no honey, you purred.” We had a moment. I would create a different ending here if she wasn’t reading this post. Feeling the connection, I gave her my card, email address and URL. The only thing that she offered me in return was an awkward smile and silence.  Perhaps some connections are meant to be broken.

Thank you for being a part of the IBD community and making my National Workshop experience complete. I hope to see all but three of you in Las Vegas.

Noted friend of Interpretation By Design Kelly Farrell sent us this photo. One can only assume that the church gets its name from the town in which is located, though I suppose we should leave open the possibility that it’s the place of worship for some very forlorn people.

Thoughts are welcome.

For those of you who enjoy this sort of thing or are trying to further reduce your productivity at work, NAI’s Russ Dickerson directed us to a website called Fail Blog, which features this type of humorous image, among much else. (I have linked to the g-rated version of the site.) It’s only loosely related to design, but it’s a funny site.

For the last three years, NAI has presented an episode of “The (NAI) Office” to try to interject some levity at the beginning of the workshop. Above is this year’s episode, which we’ll debut at the workshop’s opening reception later tonight.

As we navigate the city, we’re learning that Hartford must be populated by giants, as evidenced by this shuttle map placed about a foot over the head of NAI membership manager Jamie King.

This is the week of the long-awaited NAI National Workshop. We’re in Hartford, Connecticut, this year, and interpreters from around the world have started trickling in for preworkshop events. Tomorrow night’s opening reception officially kicks off the event. Stay tuned to IBD all week for updates and snarky comments!