the princess of typos
I’m the princess of typos
a mistress of mistakes
the duchess of defects
a lady of lapses
the empress of errors
Let’s keep things informal
you don’t have to bow
I carry as many erasers
as the law allows
From now on, you can call me ‘Your highness,’
unless they start dusting off the guillotines.
My written French is, at best, imperfect, I make grave mistakes.
Mixing up things like my é (aigus) and è (graves).
“Without the mistakes,” the TA shrugged, “you had one of the highest marks.”
“Baiser-moi,” I whispered, disappointedly. I thought I’d written a solid paper on omega balances and oxidative stress measurements.
Now that I’m in med-school
I’ve so many things to learn.
Did dinosaurs like doughnuts?
Do squirrels tell nutty jokes?
But it’s Sunday, I’m not learning anything today.
I am, in fact, languishing in free-hours.
It’s an unnatural scene - no pencils, no books,
no studying student’s dirty looks.
Pencils are having a heyday, in Paris, this year - they’re finally chic!
I’ve always been a pencil girl (did I mention typos?). I know everyone says that now but it’s true,
I swear. (Making the Girl Scout Sign)
“Agh! I need a pencil,” someone said in class, just yesterday. I pretended not to hear them and griped my #5 mechanical-pencil a little closer and tighter.
.
.
Songs for this:
Little Hercules - Trisha Yearwood
Big Deal - LeAnn Rimes
C'est la vie - Emmylou Harris
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