Keyser Söze. That arch-villain makes me happy.
It's a stormy night, one that's been marked by lightening and tornado warnings. The Cub game was called because the weather is so violent. But I'm safe and dry, wearing my pjs, curled up on the sofa, watching The Usual Suspects yet again. Gabriel Byrne is yummy and Kevin Spacey has never been better. The script is delicious. Knowing this movie as well as I do makes the repeat viewings more satisfying. So right now, at this moment, I'm enjoying the happiest moment of my day.
These are the thoughts and observations of me — a woman of a certain age. (Oh, my, God, I'm 65!) I'm single. I'm successful enough (independent, self supporting). I live just outside Chicago, the best city in the world. I'm an aunt and a friend. I feel that voices like mine are rather underrepresented online or in print. So here I am. If my musings resonate with you, please visit my blog again sometime.
Monday, August 04, 2008
Manic Monday #17
Using no more than 10 nouns, and ONLY nouns, describe yourself. Daughter, sister, aunt, friend, writer, loner, activist, partisan, dreamer, "hormone hostage."
If you owned your own store, what would you sell? Predominantly books, with a stack or two of greeting and notecards.
If you were to name the most comforting thing for you to hold in your hands, what would it be? My ginormous gray and white tomcat, Joey. Only technically speaking, he doesn't like to be held if that involves lifting him up. He does adore being petted and hugged, and it's incredibly comforting when he just comes over to be near me. He presses his warm old furry bod against me and purrs. In those moments, we are both the picture of "contentment."
To play along yourself, or to see how others answered, click here.
If you owned your own store, what would you sell? Predominantly books, with a stack or two of greeting and notecards.
If you were to name the most comforting thing for you to hold in your hands, what would it be? My ginormous gray and white tomcat, Joey. Only technically speaking, he doesn't like to be held if that involves lifting him up. He does adore being petted and hugged, and it's incredibly comforting when he just comes over to be near me. He presses his warm old furry bod against me and purrs. In those moments, we are both the picture of "contentment."
To play along yourself, or to see how others answered, click here.
What's the status of the death penalty in this state?
Thought I'd check before I strangle my coworker with my bare hands.
These offices officially close at noon at Fridays in the summer. Whether or not an employee gets to leave is dependent upon work load and deadlines. Friday at about 10:30 our boss gave us his input on a project that's being presented to the client tomorrow morning (meaning it has to be done by end of day today). She didn't like his changes because they made the copy too long for her pre-established layout. The thing of it is, the new copy was all quotes. It's unethical and (perhaps) illegal for us to edit the quotes as extensively as she'd like. She didn't want to revise her layout too much because, well, she had a hair appointment at noon.
Did she come back to the office after her hair appointment? No. Did she take the work home with her so she could work on it over the weekend? No. As soon as she left the office Friday, she forgot all about it.
Well, now it's Monday. The morning she just kinda figured would never arrive has. No, she didn't come in at dawn to catch up. And she forgot that we have a meeting that will run from 10:00 to 11:00. We were originally supposed to present it internally immediately after that meeting ends. I don't know how she will incorporate the revisions -- and do the good job our client deserves-- in less than an hour.
I hate this! My work -- the words -- is done. But I have to sit here, helplessly worrying about quality control and getting stress stomach waiting on her. She, naturally, is the victim in all this. All those pesky words have ruined her layout, she has to do it over again, and there simply isn't time!
My boss, God bless him, got us until 1:00 to present it internally. I asked him when he was going to tell her. Crafty old dog that he is, he smiled and said, "Not now but soon. I just want to push her a little this morning."
You know, if it was really a jury of my peers -- writers who have endured art directors like her -- I may just get off with a light sentence.
These offices officially close at noon at Fridays in the summer. Whether or not an employee gets to leave is dependent upon work load and deadlines. Friday at about 10:30 our boss gave us his input on a project that's being presented to the client tomorrow morning (meaning it has to be done by end of day today). She didn't like his changes because they made the copy too long for her pre-established layout. The thing of it is, the new copy was all quotes. It's unethical and (perhaps) illegal for us to edit the quotes as extensively as she'd like. She didn't want to revise her layout too much because, well, she had a hair appointment at noon.
Did she come back to the office after her hair appointment? No. Did she take the work home with her so she could work on it over the weekend? No. As soon as she left the office Friday, she forgot all about it.
Well, now it's Monday. The morning she just kinda figured would never arrive has. No, she didn't come in at dawn to catch up. And she forgot that we have a meeting that will run from 10:00 to 11:00. We were originally supposed to present it internally immediately after that meeting ends. I don't know how she will incorporate the revisions -- and do the good job our client deserves-- in less than an hour.
I hate this! My work -- the words -- is done. But I have to sit here, helplessly worrying about quality control and getting stress stomach waiting on her. She, naturally, is the victim in all this. All those pesky words have ruined her layout, she has to do it over again, and there simply isn't time!
My boss, God bless him, got us until 1:00 to present it internally. I asked him when he was going to tell her. Crafty old dog that he is, he smiled and said, "Not now but soon. I just want to push her a little this morning."
You know, if it was really a jury of my peers -- writers who have endured art directors like her -- I may just get off with a light sentence.
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