A Dumb Girl I'll Never See Again
At my former place of employment, Amanda recently sent out a department-wide e-mail asking if anyone had seen an extra copy of the Chicago Manual of Style; the e-mail actually said it in the cutesy/mildly retarded prose to which many women seemed to gravitate in that office, saying that the style book had "sprouted legs and walked away," which I think we'll all agree is a pretty elementary way to address a group of working adults.
But the best part of her e-mail is her typo, one that, tragically and more than a little ironically, could have been prevented if she'd actually had said manual in the first place. She asked in her letter: "Has anyone seen an extra Chicago Manuel of Style"?
I've never seen Manuel of Style, but I bet he's one smooth operator. I'll keep an eye out for him.
[She's never going to find the style book, either, since it's currently sitting on my bookshelf. Suck on that, nameless academic publishing company in Thousand Oaks.]
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