I don't know if it's the snob in me, the snarky / immature teenager in me, or a combination of both, but I get real persnickety when I hear someone refer to a woody perennial (and not a tree) as a bush.
President Bush, and which one? You got one, you got the other.
Bush beer? I don't care for beer that much. Go away.
Bush Gardens? Makes me vomit.
Female anatomy? (tasteless, oh so tasteless for you to include that one)
Don't beat around the bush, Mr. Deep Middle, tell us how you really feel.
Talking about bushes makes me feel bushed. And I mean bushels of bushed. It's like when you make borscht for 20 people, that leaves you bushed. Not shrubbed. There's a reason you don't drink Shrub beer--though someone ought to invent beer made from shrubs. This whole conversation makes me so incredibly shrubbed.
Look folks, it's a shrub. Not a bush. If it's in your garden or cultivated landscape, and it isn't a tree or a coneflower or some such herbaceous perennial, 'tis a shrub. SHRUB. SHRRRUUBB. And while you're practicing this new word, I say let's go ahead and start using some latin names--if anything, just to annoy our spouses and appear to know what we are doing outside, as if it were work and science and method vs. joy and luck and diversion.