Having learned that my all-time favorite teacher, Rita Kelly, who attempted to teach me journalism in high school, knows about this blog, I feel the urge to post something. (I have a sneaking suspicion that Rita would disapprove of that sentence structure, but I'm not sure how to fix it.)
This morning I was discussing an unnamed person with my amusing editor. I allowed as how this person's ego needs its own ZIP code.
"Yeah, and his talent doesn't even need a post office box," my editor (accurately) pointed out.
Snarky editors rock.
Cranky Pants
I fell in a pond and was attacked by great toasted newts.