As of writing, I have nothing to write about. I usually just write a random selection of words, and the first idea that comes to mind is elaborated upon.
This time, however, nothing springs to mind. Apart, that is, from a number of criticisms I've received over the number of commas I put into my writing. These are often voiced by dad, but my addiction has also been noted elsewhere.
Interestingly, (I find) my verbose tendencies put me at odds mainly with my co-workers. This is interesting because americans pride themselves on rote memorisation of huge lists of words. Spelling competitions are a source of pride within america, and being wordy is considered a key facet of intelligence.
It seems however, that no-one told them that knowing the entire oxford dictionary, while impressive, doesn't eschew intelligence. Being able to utilise the dictionary in an interesting manner impresses far more than simply listing words ad nauseum.
The reason I'm being so pompous today? One of my colleagues keeps taking sly looks at my screen, and I hope he/she may well learn that snooping isn't necessarily the fastest way to a mans heart.
(Make me something delicious and I'll like you far more.)
(That is more of a hint than a demand, in case you were wondering.)
The weekend was good, I'll post some picatures (sic) when I get them. I used a nice camera again, so hopefully one or two will be decent. Also, I ate a cartoon dog-head ice cream cake. Look forward to pictures of that one! (That one was a demand.)
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