The inimitable Jill Margo's recent Mini-Mag issue was focused on typos.
I have a love/hate relationship with typos. I hate them because they are tiny, disguised reminders of the fallibility of human beings. How often have you proofread something (whether it's an email or a story draft), sent it off to someone, and then realized you wrote 'you're' instead of 'your'?
And then you get that hotflash in your armpits and the panic sweats commence, because you need that person to know that you know the difference between 'you're' and 'your'. That it was a silly mistake, that it means nothing. But are you supposed to send a follow-up communique just to state that? Are you supposed to write "OOPS! I meant *your, not 'you're'. Durrrrr." Isn't making a big deal of it letting your Poor Spelling Skills slip show?
But there's also the love part of my relationship with typos. I tweeted a few weeks back that of all the typos in all the towns in all the world, my favourite one is when you write: "it is worth nothing that" instead of "it is worth noting that". I love how absolutely, colossally opposite of your intention it is. It's a big ol' slap in the face from your computer. It's your computer saying, "I OWN YOU, ASSHOLE!" Writer Chris Kuriata responded to my tweet saying 'My worst typo? Trying to type to a friend, "When your baby does" but actually typing, "When your baby dies"'.
I like to imagine that in some alternate universe, where typos are allowed to run free, somewhere, one was just sent that begins: "When your baby dies, it is worth nothing that..."