Wouldn't It Be Loverly?

People call me a Grammar Nazi. That's probably because they haven't met my mother. This afternoon, my darling mom proclaimed, that when she reads my posts, although she enjoys it, she feels the immense need to edit my grammar. I write as I think. So, sometimes my English isn't going to be perfect and flawless. My mom is my own personal Henry Higgins and I'm her Eliza Doolittle-without the 18-inch waist, of course.
My mother detests it. And maybe its hereditary, but so do I. Call me snooty, but I really can't help it. When I hear incorrect English, I'm overwhelmed by the urge to correct the person and then hit them over the head. God, I'm intolerant. Sometimes I wonder why I have friends at all.
Coincidentally, I'm taking a phonetics class this semester and so, one day a week, I'm sitting in front of the computer and making short and long vowel sounds. And that just gives me the 'Eliza Doolittle feeling' even more! I'm this close to bursting into song and exclaiming, "wouldn't it be loverly?!" If only I had the looks, it would be picture perfect.
Sorry for the randomness of this post. I just felt guilty about not updating for so long.