A rant

Don’t know whether it’s “peek” or “peak”? Split the difference, like HP did in this email I received:

Maybe the ad writer is smarter than the person who wrote the subject line? I promise you, if you haven’t noticed this ubiquitous error before, you will now. Are there so many flatlanders around that no one knows what a mountain peak is? The fact that “sneak” and “peek” rhyme is not a reason to assume they’re spelled the same way – this is, after all, English.
My oy vey for today…

Destination: Sicily

I don’t know where to begin. Sicily was a life-changing experience, thanks in large part to my dear friend Sally, who brings worlds together on a daily basis there. Still recovering from a bit of jet lag (though something about the Mediterranean sun and sea made it much easier to adjust than every before), but I thought I’d at least prime the pump for more posting with one of my favorite catches of the trip:

Despite the gaffe, Quattro Gatti in Ragusa Ibla was most accommodating with our ragtag party of about 16, and the antipasto misto and pasta con le sarde were al di la di ottimo.

Drinking with my ladybrain V

I promised; now I’ll deliver. Here it is once again, Nuvo:

I’ve kind of dumbed down the drama of the bottle by photographing it on my dining room chair against my dull gray dining room wall (gotta get that repainted one of these days!) Here’s how it appears on the Nuvo website:
Nuvo Sparkling Liqueur
Definitely a more feminine look than in my photo. Still, this photo doesn’t begin to capture just how electrically pink Nuvo was when I poured it; it’s nearly neon in its intensity.
Nuvo markets itself as “a lifestyle choice for trendy individuals.” (And may I also add that it’s clumsily and incorrectly marked as “NUVO©“?) Whoever those individuals may be, the web copy also advises that drinking Nuvo is for “Celebrating Life Everyday [sic]” and that it “comes housed in a gorgeous, perfume-like bottle that adds flare [sic] and decor to any event.” Again, whatever that means.
So what does it taste like? The site says it’s made with premium French vodka, sparkling white wine, and passion fruit nectar, intended to “dazzle your taste buds and delight your palette [sic].” Dear Reader, I am sad to report that my palate was not delighted. Fizzy vodka with disinfectant is more like it. It’s also very strong, with a kick like wasabi. Lest you think that this is just my own bias, I can promise you that the four other adults who tasted it this weekend also marveled at Nuvo’s harsh and astringent character. The pink perfume flask was definitely deceiving.
A few things I don’t understand, though: The Nuvo website’s “mixology” section suggests mixing Nuvo with … wait for it … more vodka, for a new sensation. Another variation includes mixing tequila with Nuvo, which sounds just disgusting. And while I see from the website that Nuvo is targeting both the “urban lifestyle” and “Latin spice” markets, I have a hard time picturing anyone other than a woman picking up this pink bottle. Perhaps that’s why Nuvo has branched out to add Nuvo Lemon Sorbet, which they refer to as being “sleek like a yellow Lamborghini.” Sleek it may be, but at 25% alcohol, I think I’ll have to pass. 
The good thing about Nuvo? One, despite my kvetching about its taste, it’s a pretty good name – a phonetic spelling of the French word nouveau, so its appearance is really distinctive. And two? It’s a liqueur, so it should stay drinkable for a while after opening, which will enable me to use this with guests as a cocktail conversation piece, if you will. Not bad for an investment of $10! 
(And for Nuvo’s website’s copywriters? Check out this invaluable resource so you don’t make me [sic] again: http://public.wsu.edu/~brians/errors/errors.html !)

Waiting for the markdown

As you know, I am a sucker for lavish misspellings, particularly French ones. I recently bought a globe at T.J. Maxx that featured the continent of “Norta America.” Now I need to stalk my local HomeGoods store (the non-clothing offshoot of T.J. Maxx with a positively awful name, IMHO) until this chef d’oeuvre is reduced from its original price:

Once in a while I think about the treasures I’ll leave my daughters one day: Silver, jewelry, books – and a whole lot of tchotchkes bearing hilarious misspellings. Pretty much me in a nutshell.

A really lousy name

I have no choice but to assume that these socks are uncomfortably itchy:

NO, IF YOU CHANGE THE SPELLING OF A GENERIC TERM IT DOES NOT ENABLE YOU TO CLAIM TRADEMARK RIGHTS. How many times have I said that in my 22-year career in trademark law?

BUT THERE’S MORE: If you are going to change the spelling in a misguided attempt at distinctiveness, could you try not to change it to a word that brings horror to the mind of mothers everywhere?

BONUS POINTS: Alaskan Nits? Made in North Carolina. 

Why not just spell it “roo-ee”?

Help me out here:

It’s not a roux – that’s a flour and fat-based thickener for a sauce or soup.  If they mean rouille – a garlicky, peppery sauce for bouillabaisse – maybe they need to go back to the old Larousse Gastronomique for some spelling help.  (Rouille, by the way, means “rust,” hinting at the color of a good rouille.)

What I suspect, however, is that “roui” is merely an attempt to simplify the spelling to aid in the pronunciation of the word.  This dumbing-down has the unfortunate effect of ripping the term away from its roots and meaning.

Worst of all, however, is the extremely unappealing photo of the so-called roui atop a tomato round, then perched atop a slice of melba toast that’s far too large for the tomato round.  Hors d’oeuvre faux pas, to say the least!