My head is killing me, and despite today's title, I'm not dead but I wish I were. I've had this damn migraine on and off since Thursday, and today it's bad bad bad. As Olivia Soprano used to say, I wish the good Lord would just take me.
However, since I have to blog anyway because Y'ALL ARE RELENTLESS, I thought I'd ask you to play a game with me. Yesterday at work, my coworker who sits in my row but who is the only non-copy editor to sit in our row, so you can imagine his fun all day.
"Would you hyphenate this?"
"Well, I might, but AP Style wouldn't."
"Yes, AP Style wouldn't, but the ancient Romans used to hyphenate it, and based on a little-known study about the Middle East during the Achaemenid Empire, a hyphen was used for that word, so we should use it now." (That was an impression of my boss, who does things like that ALL THE TIME.)
Anyway, imagine being the one guy who doesn't give ANY SHITS, ZERO SHITS, about whether something needs a hyphen, but yet you're stuck listening to the whole hyphen talk all day.
So that guy went to make microwave popcorn yesterday, and why is it I'd never think to make microwave popcorn at home, mostly because I have no microwave, but when someone makes it at work you'd glue feathers to your hind parts or invent an interpretive dance about the Achaemenid Empire just so you can eat some of it?
Anyway, we were expecting a big storm and tornado and already had a shelter picked out and everything, so the guy who isn't a copy editor said, "Well, if this storm comes, at least I'll have died doing what I loved: shoveling popcorn in my mouth."
Then I'm sorry to tell you that the whole open floor plan discussed whether popcorn is good for you or not (sure it is. Someone said Dr. Oz said so, and you can't go wrong with Dr. Oz), but what I said is, "This would be an excellent blog topic." Guess who's probably also sick of hearing that? Is it the guy who isn't a copy editor in our row?
So that's what I wanted you to fill in the blank on, there, either about me or about yourself: She (or he, for the .0004 men who read this) died doing what (s)he loved...