Phrase ‘I’m Like’ Taking the World by Storm

Did you ever get something stuck between your teeth and it drives you batty until it’s gone? Or how about a pebble that finds its way into your shoe? Both are small things that grow to aggravate.
Blame it on technology where even the grandest thought must be compressed into 140 characters, or lack of knowledge how to adequately express oneself, even among friends. Regardless, does it bother anyone else that conversations today are laced with “I’m like…?” Where did that ugly phrase originate? I like pumpkin pie. I like sunny days. I like tuna hoagies, but I’m not like any of them.
Maybe you have been blessed by not hearing that cursed utterance. Here are some examples:
A young lady attempts to describe to co-workers Saturday night’s events. “We sat down to eat, and like, the place was so dark I could hardly see my legs. Then, the waiter asked if we wanted a drink, and I’m like, “If I could see what I’m drinking it would be great. How am I supposed to see my food? And like then, he says, ‘Do you want a candle?’ and I’m like, ‘Yeah, I want a candle.’ But the food was, oh my land, was it delicious. I’m like I would never have thought the food would be so good in a place like this.”
A man describes his latest venture to a sports arena to his pals. “Yeah, wow, it was like the neatest thing. We had seats in the 200 level. I’m like, ‘Wow, dude, where did you get tickets for these seats?’ Then, get this; I’m like drinking my beer and eating a hot dog. The batter whacks the ball and it pops up and up, and it’s headed right for our section. I’m like, ‘Should I catch the ball or finish my beer?” Before I could put my beer down, bam! the ball smacks me right in the head. I’m like, ‘Hey, what hit me?’ And like this kid sitting behind me, he reaches right into my lap and snatches the ball and starts yelling. I’m like, ‘Hey, kid, that’s mine, it hit me in the head.’ Then the kid’s dad stands up and says, ‘Hey you wanna make something of it, Shorty?” I’m like ‘Hey, man. Keep the ball, I’m like not hurt anyway.”
English teachers continue to fight the good fight to train up a generation that has little, if any, regard for even minimally acceptable grammar. Today’s generation would certainly benefit from membership in Toastmasters International. Sorry, there are no local chapters to join. A quick check of the organization’s website indicates the nearest chapter is in Atlantic County.
Those who have visited the Eastern Shore of Maryland and other environs in that region in rural communities off the main road may have an equally difficult time trying to understand the vernacular of locals. As with any locale, there are different phrases and dialects that make communication difficult.
Heaven forbid one of those folks, whose bucolic dialect is tinged with an Elizabethan twang, meets someone of a more urban background who greets them with “Was’sup man?” Perhaps both would look quizzically at the other and wonder from what world they originated.
Another grievance, I’m certain I am not alone here either, are nuisance robo-calls. In my estimation, one of the greatest inventions of the modern age is Caller ID. While the “Do Not Call list” was supposed to relief us of the burden of unwanted calls, it has failed miserably.
Our telephone service gives us an alert on the TV screen as well as a vocal notification of who is calling. Those alone have made the service, which we use very little any more, pay for itself many times over.
We have the ability to block up to 12 numbers. With the number of calls that come through from weird places like Montana and area codes known only to some computer that dirty dozen is quickly used to the maximum. Then what? Well here comes another call from 800 Service. At other times comes an errant call, “This is a call from your credit card company. There is no problem at this time with your…” I don’t know what comes after that, since I generally hang up by that time.
Robo-calls are getting slicker. One came through last week from Avalon. Thinking it was someone calling about something I had written I picked it up. “You may be eligible to continue your education with this…blah blah.” “No, thank you.” “You can earn your degree…” “My days in school and studying are over. Good night.”
Nightly those calls continue. Like barking dogs and nuisance newspapers that get tossed into the yard, there seems to be no way to stop the annoyance. Even folks with unlisted numbers are not relieved of the burden, since calls are placed by computers that keep dialing and dialing.
Thanks for reading. I feel better sharing those nagging points, now I’m, like, over them.