punnage
I was struck by a thought the other day on my way to work: Taxi cabs unite! You have nothing to choose but your lanes!
Anyway.
Yesterday was my last at the Very Important Talent Agency. I stayed out the night before, somewhat unwisely, playing pinnochle over cocktails, but I wasn’t going to sleep well regardless; I was too keyed up about the almighty Exit Interview. With the Exit Interview in mind, I dressed to be taken seriously in my gray Arden B. suit — I even threw in a little jewelry. Perhaps thanks to my clothes, I walked out unscathed. And did I mention relieved? Very, very relieved.
On my way out, one of the boy assistants bashfully handed me a parting gift. A book! I love books. And a non-fiction book at that, which is interesting because I rarely pick up non-fiction and I certainly rarely receive non-fiction as gifts. The volume in question, Blink by Malcolm Gladwell, won me over almost immediately; I finished it within 24 hours and I’m still thinking about it. Gladwell writes like a layman, not a scholar. His sentences are clear and direct and he’s careful, as he builds his points, to continually re-process information he’s already introduced.
When I read non-fiction — or did, in college — my eye has a tendency to get lost in dense paragraphs and wander down the page for something easier to grab onto. In other words, I skim. In praise of Blink, I think I can honestly say I read every word.
Until I start my new job on Monday, I am pursuing the kind of slothful, hedonistic lifestyle that would make evangelicals indignant. And I have earned it. Bye bye, Very Important Talent Agency! Hello, future! Future, you will hopefully find me tanned, rested, and ready.
Yay for updates that distract me from my deadlines! Yay for relieved goodbyes! Yay for Future! Yay for summer! Yay for non-fiction(though non-fiction probably doesn’t make the best beach reading)! god, it’s friday and only exclamation points are helping me through the day (and updates of course).
Yay for puns. I love that taxicab line. It reminds me of an old acquaintance of mine who wrote a letter to the NYT saying Olympic athletes should compete naked to try and lower the nationalism of the whole thing. The punchline of the letter was “all the nudes fit to sprint.” Then, the NYT had the gall to print the letter, but without that last line! Talk about stuffy and an exalted sense of self…
For someone who’s fond of punnage, I’m ashamed it’s taken me until *now* to get that one…