Doesn’t it feel good to do battle with someone with whom you don’t agree behind the safety of a screen? We jump on Twitter on our smartphones to call someone a loser in all caps…

I love collective nouns. A collective noun is a name for the group of similar things. Well-known examples include a pride of lions, a colony of ants, a herd of cows, and a murder of crows. Some of my favorite, lesser-known collective nouns are a tower of giraffes...

My name is Curtis. I’m a 33-year-old man. I can’t swim.

At some point during summertime childhood swimming lessons, I flunked and didn’t receive my certificate to move to the next class. As a result, I dropped out.

Joey: All right, Rach. The big question is, "does he like you?" All right? Because if he doesn't like you, this is all a moo point. 

Rachel: Huh. A moo point? 

I can think of a few things off the top of my head that I hope never to use: math, a fire extinguisher, Pepto Bismol, and the flotation device on the bottom of my seat cushion on an airplane…

You’re not going to like this.

On the contact form on my website, I have a field where I ask people what their least favorite word is (for the record, mine is supple). The word that by far gets the most entries is “irregardless.” 

Wouldn’t it be cool to be part of the team that gets to pick which words get added to the dictionary? Maybe it’s just me, but I feel like my fellow word nerds would geek out to sit on the Oxford English Dictionary (OED)’s new words team.

I’m nostalgic for the past. I collect vinyl records and listen to them on my vintage turntable. I live in a house that was built in 1890. I write a newspaper column, which is something at this point I’ll have to explain to my grandkids from our colony on Mars.

Everyone’s on the lookout for their next clever party anecdote for that awkward pause between the cheese course and dessert  (I know I am). The perfect quip at the perfect time will make you feel like a million bucks in the tuxedo people are now assuming you own.

When it comes to the finer things in life, some people have distinctly refined tastes. They can tell the difference between a St. Francis and a Sterling Cabernet Sauvignon. And—yes—I did just ask Google about fancy, expensive red wines in order to make that comparison.

Believe it or not, correcting other people’s grammar isn’t going to win you any friends. And you might also have trouble keeping the friends you do have if you follow them around with your figurative red pen poised in conversations.

No, this isn’t going to be some kind of meta article on the state of newspaper journalism, nor is it about the Greek god of creative painting, Articles (okay, I just made that up).

The month of May in Indianapolis is a wonder to behold. This time of year, Hoosiers’ front lawns begin sprouting tiny checkered flags as if they were dandelions. We go crazy for horsepower and prognosticate about who will drink milk in the winner’s circle.

I think I peaked around age 25, which was longer ago now than I’d like to admit. 

When I was a boy, I peeked at my birthday presents because I couldn’t wait until the big day.

Understanding grammar has always piqued my interest.

If your goal in life is to spend your weekends perusing chandelier catalogs while wearing a gold-rimmed monocle in one of your five lake houses, you probably should brush up on your grammar.

Let’s think about Lord of the Rings for a minute (and all word nerds rejoiced!). Remember Sméagol/Gollum? Whether you read Tolkien’s three-part epic or you watched it on the big screen (or both), Sméagol is an unforgettable character. He can turn from endearing and sweet to greedy and vengeful within the same breath.

I’ll be the first to admit I didn’t understand or enjoy much of the Shakespeare assigned to me in high school. I hope that doesn’t ruin my reputation with my fellow word nerds. On the other hand, I love how Shakespeare invented words that are still common in our modern lexicon, including wormhole, swagger and skim milk.

Welcome to the golden age of outrage. If you’re just finishing a three-year social media cleanse, I’ve got some bad news for you: people are ticked off.

I truly believe good grammar can make your life more awesome. It can lead to job opportunities, romantic relationships and even a syndicated column that makes you hyper-specifically famous. Conversely, bad grammar can turn your life into a country song.

I hope somebody invites me to a party on a roof someday. This not-quite-bucket-list dream of mine would make me feel like I have finally achieved a (literally) high social status. I can picture myself swirling a martini, talking about horses and stocks with some guy wearing a monocle—it would be so luxurious...