Taxing on the nerves

Oooooh a rant!

In writing a piece at work, I had one proofreader correct me to say "A & B" in my document.  The next proofreader then asked me to change it to "B & A" in my document.  A third hadn't noticed either way.  After a quick google search, I found it was customary to go with "B & A," but asked the first proofreader if she knew explicitly which way was the correct according to company standards. 

She could not give me a yes or no answer.  She danced around the question through IMs and emails and phone calls.  In the meanwhile, I phoned the third proofreader and together we decided to go with what was generally accepted as customary.  But when the first reader found out what I'd taken the initiative to do, I got shit on it regardless of my sources or reasons.  She basically patted herself on the back for "doing the legwork" to decide that her way was right and that the rest of us were wrong.  All I wanted was for her to tell me to either cite her source, or give evidence either way and she took hours to do so and then sulked when my research contradicted hers, but in the end I was forced to concede because her role as the proofreader trumped mine as the writer.   

This sounds like nothing, but it totally grated on my nerves today.  Shredded them.  And now I'm ranting. 

Tax sucks.

Song of the Moment: "Too Close" - Alex Clare

You know I'm not one to break promises,
I don't want to hurt you but I need to breathe.
At the end of it all, you're still my best friend,
But there's something inside that I need to release.
Which way is right, which way is wrong,
How do I say that I need to move on?
You know we're heading separate ways.

And it feels like I am just too close to love you,
There's nothing I can really say.
I can't lie no more, I can't hide no more,
Got to be true to myself.
And it feels like I am just too close to love you,
So I'll be on my way.

You've given me more than I can return,
Yet there's oh so much that you deserve.
There's nothing to say, nothing to do.
I've nothing to give,
I must live without you.
You know we're heading separate ways.

And it feels like I am just too close to love you,
There's nothing I can really say.
I can't lie no more, I can't hide no more,
Got to be true to myself.
And it feels like I am just too close to love you,
So I'll be on my way.

So I'll be on my way.

And it feels like I am just too close to love you,
There's nothing that I can really say.
I can't lie no more, I can't hide no more,
Got to be true to myself.
And it feels like I am just too close to love you,
So I'll be on my way.

So I'll be on my way.
So I'll be on my way.
...

Heard it on the radio halfway through the song and forced myself to remember as many of the lyrics as I could so I could Google it later.  Totally worth it.

Corporate culture can be enthusiastic

   "Hey, oh my god it's sunny!  The sun is out!  Oh, sorry guys, I was just so excited that it was sunny out.  Like 'what IS that big orange thing?'  Oh my god, don't mind me, guys."
   --my Director this afternoon as she passed by the windows by our row
...

Have I mentioned I love working here?

Friday randoms

It's Friday.  It's lunchtime.  I'm ready for the weekend.
...

My work email spellcheck accepts "guesstimate" as a legitimate word.  Huh.
...

Is it bad that I read this article and found it (morbidly) amusing?  Yes, I know there's not much information, and yes, I know that it's sad that a man was killed in this accident, but the circumstances just take a turn for the ridiculous without that vital extra information.  From what I could glean from the article, my brain rewrote the events as this:

It was a dark night as a man walked down the lonely road at 3:30 am.  Suddenly, out of the darkness, a car appeared, driving too fast.  So fast, the man was struck in a instant.  While the car took off, the man stumbled, dazed and disoriented, now in the middle of the roadway.  Being as dark as it was and the hour that it was and at that particular intersection, a second, smaller car appeared too fast and struck the man again. 

The little car screeched to a stop.  Panicked, the driver dialled 911 and desperately called for help for the man on the road.  The driver jumped out after the call and ran to the man who was amazingly intact and trying to pick himself up a second time.

  "Holy shit, are you okay?!"
  "Yeah, I think so," came the disbelieving reply as the man swayed unsteadily to his feet.
  "Dude, take it easy, I just called the cops - they should be here any second."
  "Thanks - I think I might be okay."

Sirens could be heard approaching the scene.  The driver called after the man, trying to convince him to stay, but he had already begun to swagger off into the night.  A moment later, a police cruiser swung into view going too fast and struck the poor man a third time.

  "Aw fuck."

I know, I know, it's not funny...but it kinda is...
...

Dear Winning Lottery Ticket,

I know we haven't met and we've never actually spoken in person before, but I was kind of hoping we could change that this weekend.  Whadda ya say?

melody

C'mon lotto!

let's get rich and buy our parents homes in the South of France
let's get rich and give everybody nice sweaters
and teach them how to dance
let's get rich and build our house on a mountain
making everybody look like ants
from way up there, you and I, you and I, you and I
   --from "You and I" by Ingrid Michaelson
....

Winning the lottery takes an astronomical amount of luck and realism.  I know we're probably not going to win the $50 million tonight, nor one of the 50 $1million prizes...but it's always nice to dream.

A dark and stormy night

Hurricane Sandy was to make her full-force debut and performance on Monday night.  Unfortunately, that was also the night I had made reservations for Señorita, Malcolm and I to join a tour of the Haunted Streets of Downtown Toronto.  Even more unfortunately, that was the night Malcolm forgot to bring his rain shoes to work ("I have a change of warm clothes, my rain coat, my rain pants, an umbrella - everything except my shoes!").  :(  What with Sandy lurking about, we decided it was not a day to take chances with your gear.  And so, it was up to Señorita and I to press on alone, and that's exactly what we did.

Blustery as she was, Sandy had no bite.  Being on a budget as we were, Señorita and I hoofed it from work to dinner and from dinner to tour.  Not even halfway to each destination, we were already shedding gloves and scarves and hoods.

   "Is that all you've got, Sandy?!"

Of course, every once in a while, we'd get caught off guard by a gust of wind or by a random spray of rain, and our taunts would change.

   "What ya gotta be such a bitch for, Sandy?!"

However, despite Sandy's (dismal) efforts, Señorita and I arrived at the tour site, convulsed in giggles as we cursed the weak randomness of the Frankenstorm.  We made it through our tour of the Ghosts of UofT (route changed to accommodate the weather for fear of flying debris) warmly enough, except for during the parts we were chilled to the bone by the tour's stories.  The rain even held off right until the last 10 minutes of the tour.  We had a great time, with the weather only adding to the effect and making our warm drinks at the end even more satisfying.

Despite all the calls and emails and texts from our parents (and there were a lot of them) scolding us for being outside at all and horribly worried about how we'd get home, we had a great time even with Sandy.
...

On the train home, Señorita and I learned that both our parents experienced a power outage for some time that night, so when I arrived home to a lit house, I was a little relieved. However, moments after arriving home, Malcolm scurried down the stairs to greet me while wearing a headlamp. I asked the obvious question.

   "Oh, honey, did the power go out on you?"
   "Nope, but I'm prepared!"