English is a crazy language.*  For those of us who enjoy playing with words, it is therefore quite amusing, though the many peculiarities of the language must be very frustrating for people who learn English as a second language.  Much of the grammar of the language has a certain logic, but other matters – such as spelling, idioms, and irregular verbs – must cause considerable head-scratching among non-native speakers.
[*Richard Lederer, who has written several books that focus on the idiosyncracies of English, has, in  fact, titled one of these books Crazy English.  We have drawn some examples from this and other books by Dr. Lederer, though most of the examples are our own.]

Let's begin with English verbs.  If the past participle of sing is sung (we sing, we have sung), why isn't the past participle of bring brung (we bring, we have brung)?  If something I catch is caught, why isn't something I thatch thaught or something I match maught?  Or, as Richard Lederer notes, if we say that the teacher taught, shouldn't we say that the preacher praught?  If the principal parts of give are "give - gave - given," the principal parts of live should be "live - lave - liven":  "I lave in New York as a child; then we moved here, and I have liven here ever since."  The past tense forms of sleep and keep are slept and kept; why isn't the past tense of beep bept, as in, "She bept me on my pager."  If shook and took are the past tense forms of shake and take, shouldn't mook be the past tense of make?  The airplane flew (past tense of fly) over yesterday, but we can't say that we frew (past tense of fry) anything.  A light is lit but never lought; a fight is fought but never fit.

Irregular plurals of nouns are no less wonderfully inconsistent than irregular verbs.  House gets a "normal" plural by adding s, but mouse is changed to mice.  We say one mouse - two mice, but we may not say one house - two hice – or two mouses.  One goose, a flock of geese; one moose, a herd of meese? one tooth, several teeth; one booth, several beeth?  One thief, a lot of thieves; one chief, a lot of chieves?  And don't even think about Latinate plurals:  one alumnus, several alumni; one airbus, several airbi?

Regarding the plurals of some things that come in pairs, we are apparently a bit confused.  "One shoe and a pair of shoes" makes sense.  But why do we refer to a pair of pants and a pair of scissors when nobody talks about a pant or a scissor?  True, a pair of pants has two legs, but we don't speak of a pair of brassieres.

Opposites supply numerous curiosities.  If something we cannot erase is indelible, is something we can erase delible?  When I'm upset, I'm disgruntled; therefore, when I'm not, may I say that I am gruntled?  When our hair or clothes are in disarray, they are disheveled; when they're not, may we say that they're heveled?  We know what it means to be nonchalant, but what is the meaning of chalant?  Indifferent is not the opposite of different; in fact, it has nothing to do with difference.  Why is that?  Why do ravel and unravel have the same meaning?  Why are things that are likely to catch fire both inflammable and flammable?  "I'll be there shortly" means "I'll be there soon," but if it's going to take a while to get there, we don'y say, "I'll be there longly."

A student once wrote that someone who broke the rules of an organization should be dismembered.  He thought that the word dismember meant to revoke membership.  Well, it's logical, isn't it?  Or perhaps, since one starts membership by joining, the man should have been unjoined or disjointed. 

Phrasal verbs and verbs that are part preposition and part verb often defy logic.  Why does looking over something mean to examine it, while overlooking something means not noticing it at all?  Supposedly someone who supervises a project oversees it, and the process may be called oversight – but an oversight is also something that is caused by carelessness or neglect.  And undertaking something does not mean that we take it under but that we take it on – or maybe even take it over.  In the last analysis, what's the difference between something that burns down and something that burns up?

We seem to apply prefixes haphazardly.  We all know that postponing something means to put it off until later.  Can we prepone anything?  If anyone used the word postposterous, we might accuse the the speaker of being preposterous.  We all know what it means to overhaul something, but what happens when we underhaul something?  We sometimes speak of being overwhelmed but never of being underwhelmed or, for that matter, simply whelmed.  To underline or underscore means to draw a line under something, but underwrite has an entirely different meaning.  Why?  For that matter, we have prefixes and suffixes.  Why aren't they called prefixes and postfixes? 

Sometimes the way we use words contradicts reality.  When we say we're swimming underwater, aren't we in the water, not under it?  And isn't a subway in the ground, not underground?  When something gets lost, misplaced, or overlooked, we tend to say that it fell between the cracks.  Wouldn't it be more likely to be lost, misplaced, or overlooked if it fell in the cracks?  Why do signs tell us to watch our heads?  How do we do that when the eyes we use to watch with are in our heads?  As a comedian has noted, we drive on a parkway and park in a driveway. 

The above are idioms, and many idioms are peculiar.  We may give something "short shrift, but what would it mean to give something "long shrift"?  If a person who is quick to anger is short-tempered, why don't we say that a person who is slow to anger is "long-tempered"?  When we're sick, we're under the weather, so supposedly when we get better, we are over being under the weather.  Weird.

English spelling is notoriously illogical and unphonetic, but for weirdness, nothing beats the words with the same spelling and different meanings.  If I write about a sewer, you would have to see the context to know whether I'm writing about someone who sews or a place for collecting human waste.  Since minute can be a measure of time or an adjective meaning "extremely small," I can speak of things that happen hourly, weekly, or monthly – but not minutely, since that means "in great detail" or "very closely."

Numerous as these examples are, they hardly scratch the surface.  The more one looks at the language, the more (like Alice in Wonderland), we scratch our heads and say, "Curioser and curioser."  We encorage readers to post more examples of weirdness on the messge board – and stay tuned for a sequel.

Note:  I am fully aware that there are etymological and historical explanations for many of these curioisities, but please don't tell me.  It's more fun not knowing.