Yes, Mother Theresa had some admirable qualities, but really, the person who should be nominated for sainthood is the guy who invented Spell Check. While Mother T. ministered to the poor, sick, orphaned, and dying, Spell Check has literally saved the ass of many a lazy executive assistant, such as myself. I only wish Spell Check caught some of my more egregious typos. One additional letter in an email to my eight year-old niece was turned into an international incident. I meant “Double dog dare” but wrote “double dong dare” and after a few Google searches on her part, I was in the double dong dog house. Eventually it all blew over -- I’m pretty sure her parents will let me see her again when she turns 21.

I’ve also made a few alcohol-induced errors, I like to call them my “tipsy typos.” Instead of emailing a friend to let her know that her bridal shower was an “enormous hit,” a slip of the finger turned it into an “enormous shit.” All the Tide Pens in the world couldn’t clean up that mess. Ironically that extra “s” turned my Bridezilla-slash-friend into an enormous shit, so maybe I’m the Nostradamus of typos? Maybe my niece will eventually appreciate a double dong dare? I’ll keep you posted.

My apologies for the typo infused blogs of the past and future. I’ve thought about asking my friend to proofread my blogs, but then she’ll stop me from sharing stories -- like the time she put in her NuvaRing after chopping hot peppers. (Let’s just say Lindsay Lohan isn’t the only girl called “Fire Crotch” behind her back.) I’m grateful for typos because they clearly show I don’t have an editor or proofreader to correct -- or muzzle me. I only wish I was more diligent, but as you know, I’m so lazy, I can barely be bothered to take the plastic wrapper off my Kraft Singles before I make a grilled cheese. From now on, I’m going to try much harder to proof my copy, I apologize in advance for any incontinence.

Today I’m grateful for typos.