American Spanish Puns

The were The Ruff Riders.

Se habla Espan y’all.

I'm not saying I'll watch it. But there's been wurst casting.

He found his way to the men's department where a young lady offered to help him. "Quiero calcetines," said the man.

"I don't speak Spanish, but we have some very nice suits over here," said the salesgirl. "No, no quiero trajes. Quiero calcetines," said the man.

"Well, these shirts are on sale this week," declared the salesgirl. "No, no quiero camisas. Quiero calcetines," repeated the man.

"I still don't know what you're trying to say. We have some fine pants on this rack," offered the salesgirl. "No, no quiero pantalones. Quiero calcetines," insisted the man.

"These sweaters are top quality," the salesgirl probed. "No, no quiero sueter. Quiero calcetines," said the man.

"Our undershirts are over here," fumbled the salesgirl, beginning to lose patience. "No, no quiero camisetas. Quiero calcetines," the man repeated.

As they passed the underwear counter, the man spotted a display of socks and happily grabbed a pair. Holding them up he proclaimed, "¡Eso sí que es!"

"Why didn't you just spell it in the first place?!" yelled the salesgirl.

There is a poster due in my US history class about the Spanish American war. My group wants the title to be a pun, and preferably involves the USS Maine. Another group has the title "the Maine problem" so we can't use that. Please help and thanks.

When I worked for a design agency, I had two adamant higher-ups. There was a brand identity project for a new company, and I was in charge of typography, but those two disagreed with my choice of font.

The first one was this stony-looking Peruvian-American man named Esteban Ferrero, but since that's Spanish for Steven Smith, and our company had a rule that everyone has to call each other using nicknames instead of last names, everyone, including himself, just called him Steve. The second one was a Dutch woman with a sharp glare named Evelien van der Berg. She was famous for giving designers a hard time convincing her that their design choices work better than hers. In accordance with the company rules, we called her Eve.

Anyway, I showed Steve my first draft, and he wasn't convinced that I chose LinoLetter as the main font, and told me that I should use a sans-serif font. But I stood by my position that serifs add legibility to printed and digital material, that it fits the company's identity as an organic store, and that it is hard to stand out with a sans-serif. It took a lot of debate, but in the end, Steve was convinced that LinoLetter was acceptable.

A few days later, I showed Eve a more elaborated version, as for the sizes and styles of the font, and the pairing of LinoLetter with Century as the headline font. She insisted that I should have used a sans-serif font for the headline. I expressed my view that LinoLetter is a font with composed and legible shape, and Century, while it is also legible, has flair at larger sizes. She kept disagreeing with me, saying I should use something bolder and more contrasting, like Tungsten. It felt like hours had passed before the conversation went anywhere, so I had to give up and look for a sans-serif font that goes with LinoLetter.

So it goes to show that the one who gave me a hard time was adamant Eve, not adamant Steve.