(The following is a dramatization, paraphrasement, and embellishment of actual events. A name has been altered to sort-of-but-not-really obscure the identity of the more-or-less innocent. Also, we love our jobs. Really.)
Philbert: God, they really fucked up this layout. It's taking me forever to fix everything. And I don't know when this became my job, but I have to do all the color-correction. I don't know how I'm going to get this to the printer by Friday.
Me: Yeah, those bastards. I don't think I even know what color-correction is. I'm a little fucked myself. I double-booked QCs, I have to lay out 8 more chapters of my book by Tuesday, and I'm going to be gone Thursday and Friday. Fuck.
P: That sounds a lot like my internal dialogue.
Me: What, repeating "Fuck" over and over?
P: Yeah.
(Rueful laughter)
now, *my* internal dialogue involves repetition of the word 'fiddlesticks'. obviously y'awl wasn't raised right.
Posted by: 'nette on February 8, 2006 7:31 PM