Ash. Despair. Anjelica Houston.
Ash. Despair. Anjelica Houston.
Yesterday I was working for five hours on a lawyer's computer because he broke his Outlook signature. In the course of this, I had to endure a staggering amount of his longwinded descriptions of how since he's an "attorney" (only assholes call themselves "attorneys" instead of "lawyers") he's obsessively precise about his grammar. Having been raised by a man who truly did not tolerate improper use of the English language and knew every little nuance of proper writing, I was getting pretty tired of this jerkoff, especially because I was spending all this time fixing the stationery of a man who thinks it's appropriate to format his professional emails in Times New Roman with both bold and italic on every part of his header, sig, and disclaimer, and on top of all that he also uses an email theme that makes all his correspondence look like it was written on a legal pad. If my lawyer sent me an email that looked like this asshole's I would have fired him.
So finally when we were all said and done and he'd written the check I said, "Oh, by the way, you might want to proofread your footer." "Why, did something happening with the formatting?" "No," I said, "you just have an unnecessary comma." Here is what I was referring to:
He read it and immediately got up on a big condescending high horse again, explaining to me that I am misinformed but it's not my fault since today's public education is so poor. "That's a special comma usage you've probably never heard of--" "A serial comma, yeah, I know what it is, sir. I worked as a legal aide for my father who graduated Harvard law with honors, he was pretty fanatical about grammar himself. What you did there doesn't qualify as a proper use of a serial comma though, you're just putting it there to force a pause in the mind of the reader which isn't its purpose." He started quoting some style guide to writing I've never heard of and I cut him off again to say that The New York Times and TIME magazine both disagree, thanked him for the business and left.Confidentiality Notice: This communication, and any documents attached to
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There's a distinct limit to how many words somebody's willing to care about your thing for. You've far exceeded it.
I know. If I don't start shaping up soon, it'll be as big as your nose.
mother fuckin' witsday.
2 oz blended whiskey
Juice of 1/2 lemon
1/2 tsp powdered sugar
1/2 slice lemon
Shake blended whiskey, juice of lemon, and powdered sugar with ice and strain into a whiskey sour glass. Decorate with the half-slice of lemon, top with the cherry, and serve.