Hodgepodge for $300, Alex.

Did anyone else notice that sign in the audience that read "Cougars for David Cook" on American Idol? I might not be old enough to be a cougar, but I approve that message. Oh, DC. So delish. Remember when you auditioned and I told my family that you were my pick for the American Idol? And that I totally wanted to make out with you? Those words are still true today.

I usually avoid commenting on things that happen at work, but I had an experience yesterday that really ticked me off. A certain someone gets really defensive when I proof their writing and several times now has come up to me with a red face and somewhat angrily insisted that their way was right or that I was being inconsistent with what I had previously corrected. (I wasn't. I was very clear on my instructions.) While I disagreed, I maintained a pleasant attitude and tried to gently state my intentions. Yesterday, I proofed a couple of the person's articles and noted many, many instances of using partial quotes--taking only a few words or phrase of an interviewee's quote and placing it in the middle of the reporter's sentence. Once, I can see. Twice? Maybe. But this was several times in two articles. I made changes. The person objected in a very defensive (and loud!) manner. I told this person that she/he needed to be careful about using partial quotes and that it was better not to use them (as practiced and preached by the Associated Press). The person interrupted with a claim to have already spoken to the publisher and exclaimed "That's just good writing!" Well, no, it isn't. Taking just a few words of someone's quote is discouraged because it can be taken out of context. If you only like a little bit, or if only a little bit is truly quotable/publishable, here's a thought: PARAPHRASE. All that red ink on the story that shows mistakes/bad grammar/punctuation? That's not good writing. It's sloppy. As evidenced by our boss standing over my shoulder reading your story, shaking his/her head and saying, "This isn't good." (Also, I'm not a journalist because I choose not to be, not because I don't know how to write.)

On the phone last night with Kristen:
Me: Did you see Laura invited me to come visit her place?
Kristen: WHO?
Me: Laura Llew.
Kristen: To her place?
Me: Yup.
Kristen: Her actual house?
Me: Yup. She said I could even sleep on her couch!
Kristen: Wha? *panic* Why are I not invited?!
Me: HAHAHAHAHAHAHA
Kristen: HAHAHAHAHAHAHA
*five minutes of laughter later*
Me: What kind of English was that?
Kristen: I think I sprained my throat from laughing.
(We're now seriously looking into costs of flight vs. driving.)

(later)
Kristen: My parents keep asking me how I know Towr.
Me: Oh, yeah?
Kristen: "How do you know her? Did you go to college with her?" No, Mom. "Did you work with her?" No, Mom. "Well, how do you know her?" *sighs deeply* So then I just said, "I know her through April."
Me: ha! My grandparents kept asking me how I knew her, too. So I just said "Well, she's staying at Kristen's house, so I'm just going to visit."
*silence*
Me: And we're almost 30.
Kristen: Oh, brother.

Jersey, outside with Gram. They see a heavy-set woman walk outside next door.
Jersey: Hey, Gram. Look at that big fat woman!
Gram: No, Jersey, we don't say that. What if someone said that about Mama or Gram?
Jersey: No. *shakes head seriously* I just say, "Hey, Gram, look at that big fat bug!"

Gram reading a story to Jersey before bedtime. The book is about hands and all the things they can do.
Gram: *reading* These hands are gentle. They can pick up a kitten.
Jersey: *holds up her own hands and waves them a bit* Well, these hands can slap.