'Cause If You Were Laying, There'd Be Eggs...
Nathan: The meeting's canceled. Ann just went home.
Me: Is she sick?
Nathan: I guess. She said she felt "nauseous."
Me: Nauseous? She seriously said that?
Nathan: Uh-huh. That's exactly what she said.
Me: *doubles over laughing*
Nathan: I know! Can you believe it?
Me: Well, did you say anything?
Nathan: Not really. I mean, I agreed with her. She really is nauseous.
Me: *dies laughing* Heh. Nauseous.
That's not really funny to anyone here, is it? Sometimes it sucks being a certified Grammar & Definition Whore. I always have to explain why I'm laughing at people. That said: nauseous means "sickening to contemplate." Nauseated means "sick at the stomach." It's funny when people mix them up. Hello? Is anyone there? Hello...lo...lo...lo... Oh, the hell with you all. Illiterate rubes. It's not like I was making a joke about showing someone their insect reflection. (Joss sucks. Seeing Red? I'll make him see red, the bastard. *stomps off grumbling about Tara* Ahem. Better now.)
Anyway. I don't think I've mentioned it here, but I just started an editing gig at the beginning of February. I get paid to be a grammar whore. Very nice. Except when it's not. I'm turning into such a snob. Well, I was a snob to begin with, but I'm getting worse. I watched a rerun of Frasier the other night, and found myself shaking my head and saying, "Oh, that is so true." I used to say, "Frasier? Ugh, change the channel. Unless that chick with the cool accent is on. Or the dog..."
I do like the job, though, and my copyediting partner, Nathan, is a lot of fun to work with. And he has yet to show me his underwear. This is the first time I've had a job for almost a full month without having anyone offer to show me their underwear. It's a nice change.
Man. I really hate this damn journal. I always feel like I have to justify my life. Maybe I should give the "Woke up. Ate breakfast. Went to work." approach a try. Although, I suppose here in LJ-Land it would be, "gut up, 8 brekfast, went 2 werk." I'd have to shoot myself in the head, though, so I'd only be able to do it once. I guess I'll stick with the "one entry a month to get you jerks off my back" approach.
(Side-rant: Lie, lay, lain, lying. Lay, laid, laid, laying. Is it really that freaking hard?)
Me: Is she sick?
Nathan: I guess. She said she felt "nauseous."
Me: Nauseous? She seriously said that?
Nathan: Uh-huh. That's exactly what she said.
Me: *doubles over laughing*
Nathan: I know! Can you believe it?
Me: Well, did you say anything?
Nathan: Not really. I mean, I agreed with her. She really is nauseous.
Me: *dies laughing* Heh. Nauseous.
That's not really funny to anyone here, is it? Sometimes it sucks being a certified Grammar & Definition Whore. I always have to explain why I'm laughing at people. That said: nauseous means "sickening to contemplate." Nauseated means "sick at the stomach." It's funny when people mix them up. Hello? Is anyone there? Hello...lo...lo...lo... Oh, the hell with you all. Illiterate rubes. It's not like I was making a joke about showing someone their insect reflection. (Joss sucks. Seeing Red? I'll make him see red, the bastard. *stomps off grumbling about Tara* Ahem. Better now.)
Anyway. I don't think I've mentioned it here, but I just started an editing gig at the beginning of February. I get paid to be a grammar whore. Very nice. Except when it's not. I'm turning into such a snob. Well, I was a snob to begin with, but I'm getting worse. I watched a rerun of Frasier the other night, and found myself shaking my head and saying, "Oh, that is so true." I used to say, "Frasier? Ugh, change the channel. Unless that chick with the cool accent is on. Or the dog..."
I do like the job, though, and my copyediting partner, Nathan, is a lot of fun to work with. And he has yet to show me his underwear. This is the first time I've had a job for almost a full month without having anyone offer to show me their underwear. It's a nice change.
Man. I really hate this damn journal. I always feel like I have to justify my life. Maybe I should give the "Woke up. Ate breakfast. Went to work." approach a try. Although, I suppose here in LJ-Land it would be, "gut up, 8 brekfast, went 2 werk." I'd have to shoot myself in the head, though, so I'd only be able to do it once. I guess I'll stick with the "one entry a month to get you jerks off my back" approach.
(Side-rant: Lie, lay, lain, lying. Lay, laid, laid, laying. Is it really that freaking hard?)