Traveling every weekend making college visits with the teenage daughter, staggering through every week.
Looked down at my list of post ideas, decided they’d make a good post of their own.
Why is it my job to put things on your calendar? We agreed to the date and the time of the call. “Send it through” to your own fucking calendar, Miranda.
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Only a Canadian would include this disclaimer on her email: “My work hours do not always correspond to regular work hours. If I email you after normal business hours, please do not feel obligated to respond outside of your work day.” (Thank God for Canadians.)
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Why can’t jailbirds wear those striped outfits anymore? They added an element of whimsy to long-term incarceration.
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These days people don’t go to the big meeting to find out if the boss made a decision. They go in hopes of getting “directional feedback.” Please make a note.
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Helping my daughter reach out to college soccer coaches, I invented what I call the Em-Dash Humble-Brag. Here’s how it works: “I had a particularly successful junior year in soccer—I made first-team all-state, scoring hat tricks in the last six games, including the City Championship—and I’m really looking forward to working out at __________ University.”
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Do not hire a writer who claims to be “passionate about crafting copy, creating content, and driving digital storytelling.” I’d sooner hire someone who claimed to be deeply devoted to playing with shit, and smearing it all over the place.
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This may be a candidate for inclusion in my top five Writing Boots posts. Thank you.