Call 911! Call 911!
Did you ever see Down and Out in Beverly Hills, when Richard Dreyfus is yelling that while the phone is in his hand? I would giggle about that if I weren't near death.
I just spent 43 minutes and nine seconds going three miles on the treadmill as fast as I could. I think I'm gonna barf. Which, in case you didn't know, I haven't done since October of 1982 when I drank two bottles of pink champagne, and I do not wish to pick back up with the barfing just yet.
So, my pace is 14 minutes and 36 seconds. Kenya called. They never want me to use the word "marathon" again. A Kenyan can run about four miles for every one of mine. Dang Kenyans.
Perhaps you have noticed that I said I'd do my three miles on the treadmill last night. Turns out, all that grocery shopping? Made me hungry for the groceries I bought. So I came home and ate rice cakes instead.
Then today, as per usual, I thought, "Oh, I'll just do this proofreading and get it out of the way. It'll take an hour or two." Why do I always do that? I finished at SIX.
The reason is because there was a new girl proofreading. Here's the thing. Part of my job is that I look at the corrections all of the proofreaders made, including me, and I look at the new clean copy to make sure all the changes were incorporated. Well, one of the proofers is new, and she did new-proofer thing.
If you are ever thinking of becoming a proofreader (and why? Do you want to be blind? And persnickety? And have people be afraid to email you?), and you get hired somewhere, do not do the thing where you correct every single little thing that could POSSibly be wrong just to show that you have a good eye. We KNOW you have a good eye, or we wouldn't have hired you.
Find out what the client WANTS corrected. Find out what STYLE GUIDE they use. Do not be annoying and use up one red pen per page. Okay?
So, in a nutshell, I hate new girl. If I had any strength left, I'd beat her. I'd poke out her retinas with my White-Out pen. New girl is an evil beast.
She's probably Kenyan.