Category Archives: Working.

I got a new job!


In San Francisco! And that has perks beyond “sometimes we provide bagels.”

And I totally feel like Frank right now.


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Perks.


ME: “Hello Author. Please be prepared to briefly discuss the approach and philosophy of your text at tomorrow’s focus group. Thanks!”

AUTHOR: “Sure thing. I will discuss my approach, which can be summed up in three statements:

1. Crush Your Enemies
2. See them driven before you
3. Hear the lamentations of their women!”

Best. Response. Ever.
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What You Can Expect to Happen if You Accidentally Spell Something Wrong in a Text You’ve Sent to an Editor


Him: Hey, I’m making diner tonight 🙂

Me: But I’m not a cannibal!

Him: …what

Me: I’M NOT A CANNIBAL!

Him: …well, I am?

Me: ::Quietly mourns lost, snarky editor joke::
***

I’m pretty sure he just ignores me most of the time.

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the editors’ curse.


Pssst. HEY. I see you over there, trying to use words you don’t totally understand.

Or maybe you know what you’re trying to say, but you use the wrong word to express it. Maybe that word isn’t even a word, but you thought Hell, this SOUNDS right, it’s fine!

Guess what? It’s not fine. It gives me a headache. It frustrates me and gives me an eye twitch when I read your blog/ twitter/ wall. And it makes me, the detail-obsessed, appropriate-context-demanding, spell-it-right-or-don’t-spell-it-at-all, FOR GOD’S SAKE IT’S ITS NOT IT’S IF IT’S POSSESSIVE editor hate you, even if just a little bit. I know this is my own fault, at least partially; I was born a bookworm, but I chose to cultivate that sweet, sweet word-love into a profession. But dude?

FEENING? Is not. A word. You cannot “feen” for cake any more than you can “reed” a book, or make a “moo” point. You can’t premonition a movie, recall the time you teached a kid how to ride a bike, have took a photography class, wave a statement aside with irregardless (I don’t give a shit if it’s in the dictionary, it is wrong), losen your tie, “feed the children there dinner’s,” be writting a song or use a comma in place of an ellipses because you don’t understand how the nature of a pause changes when indicated by one or the other.

If I see one more person post “your going to love this!” I may actually die.

Please, before I have an aneurysm. Before I burst out of my clothing in a rage of muscles and teeth. Before I say something incredibly pretentious to you because the only way to correct another adult’s grammar is to sound like an asshole– PLEASE. Just. Check. The words. The apostrophes. The commas. Before you post. Or hit send. Or tweet. I beg you.

From all of the bottoms of the hearts of all of the editors in the world. Won’t you try? For us?


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Apple!


Kids? I’m flying to New York tonight.

::SQUEE::
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Education.


(Last night)

Student: “Do you have any babies?”

Me: “Nope, no babies.”

Student: “That’s too bad. I wanted to make fun of your fat stomach.”

Me: “…………..finish your worksheet.”

Student: “It’s okay though. I can wait. Do you think you’ll have one in the next five years?”

Me: “I doubt I’ll be tutoring you in five years, dude.”

Student: “Ah, yes… that’s because I’m a genius.”

Me: ::forehead palm::

He spent the remainder of the lesson intermittently asking me really personal questions (“Why aren’t you married yet?”), trying to insult me (“Your FACE was switching tenses”), and stabbing my hand with the business end of a blue pen (the ink has yet to come off). Is it weird that he’s totally my favorite student?

*Pro tip: do not Google “teacher and student images.” It will ruin your innocence.

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Death with dignity.


Fact: Physician-assisted suicide is legal in the state of Oregon. On October 27, 1997, the state enacted the Death With Dignity Act, which allows for terminally ill Oregon residents to seek physician-prescribed drugs to be self-administered for the express purpose of ending their lives.

While my personal opinion about suicide does not align with my belief that everyone has the right to free decision, it fascinates me that we have only a single US state in which the general population’s beliefs have been trumped by our insatiably American zeal for freedom. That aside, I think it says something frightening when you view the assisted-death reports and find that, statistically, the most allegedly privileged creature in America is the most likely to swallow the deadly drugs: the white, married, upper-middle class male who holds a bachelor’s degree or higher.

I wouldn’t call suicide dignified. I would call it cowardice, and I would call it glorified and romanticized by media, and I would call it the saddest option that an unfortunate number of people make singular.

But I also call it a choice, and one that I would never want the responsibility of making for another person. I’m not terminally ill, or looking down a winding road of drawn-out pain and effort that will not only diminish my quality of life but lead me to the same end anyway. I’m not missing parts of my body or unable to control its functions. I’m healthy and whole and with luck, will stay that way until I meet what I hope is a quick snuffing-out.

I wonder where the line is drawn; when a terminal cancer patient elects to stop treatment, or when a wife makes the horrifically painful decision to remove assisted-living devices from her husband, or when a person puts a “Do Not Resuscitate” demand in their medical file. Is it really that different?

There’s no neatly-tied conclusion to this thought. I doubt I’ll ever have a solid opinion on it.

I guess I’m just glad I get to choose to end this post when I think it should be over.
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Good morning, good morning!


You know it’s about to be a good day when you have a meeting at 8:30 in the morning, wherein your boss not only uses the phrase “it looks like a spattering of Gumbies with target heads,” but also imitates a girl flapping her hands around and saying, complete with high lisp-y voice, “OMG DIDN’T BRAD BREAK UP WITH THAT SKANK ANGELINA YET? OMG!!”

I’m starting to really like this place.
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A Dork is A Whale’s Yoo-hoo


FYI, I am bleeping  COWARD when it comes to whales. They are too big. TOO BIG.

Other news: I was hired by Demand Studios to do freelance. I screeched when I got the offer, wrote my first article, it was approved, and then I danced around when I saw the nifty little honorarium deposited into my bank account.  I tweeted about this. And then…

Richard Rosenblatt, Co-founder, CEO and Chairman of Demand Media RT’d ME. AND HE SAID CONGRATULATIONS. TO ME. ME. Little ol’ makes corny and inappropriate jokes, cries over book dedications, eats burritos with a fork ME. Squee!

It’s beyond exciting when ridiculously successful people notice you. This man is worth like, over a million dollars, so, I kinda threw up in my mouth a little bit.

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