I am endlessly amused by people who are SURE that The Rules (not the regressive dating book; just, you know, Life's Rules) don't apply to them. That they are SO special, and such a shining star in the firmament that they don't NEED to have a professional-looking resume, and OF COURSE the Intern Coordinator should drop everything to get back to her immediately and soothe her delicate baby feelings.
These people baffle me. Sometimes they don't even have the arrogance and entitlement, just the firm conviction that the Rules don't make sense. There's a man in my critique group who is on many levels a better writer than I am, but I swear I'll be published first just because I'm happy to submit my work in standard format. He thinks his 1.5-spaced sans-serif font stuff "stands out" and is "easier to read" than doublespaced Courier or TNR.
But Allyson, you don't want it for YOU. Asking for others is a whole 'nother thing.
she'll just get married next.
Just so she doesn't move to Seattle and try to marry in my church.
I'm fairly certain I've seen chainmail bikinis offered for sale.
Oh, sure. At any science fiction convention, renaissance faire, and so on.
Just so she doesn't move to Seattle and try to marry in my church.
What? You don't want to stick around for the second half of the double-feature:
Return of Bridezilla?
No, you do not get to ask why I know this.
Well, I hope you learned from Red Sophia's mistake and wore nipple shields.
Just for fun, here's what I could buy in the town where I grew up for roughly the list price of a little 2-bedroom 900-square footer like where I live in Seattle: [link]
And here's the most expensive house for sale in my old zip code: [link]
I've driven past it a number of times. I wouldn't pay that much for it even if it were somewhere I wanted to live.
Here's one
I always liked them, but now I'm thinking more "ouch" than anything else.
