this absolutely sucks. i hate staying home sick.
1- i'd like to think that it's a nice break from my clients and their problems, but it's so not, cos i know that when i go back into work that they'll have made decisions on their own and totally screwed any number of things up. so it just means more work when i get back, that could last weeks if not months to sort out, especially if it's housing.
2- i am losing money staying at home, despite the fact that i get paid sick leave. I get paid... hmm... not sure, around $230 a day before tax. Friday alone: i drove dangerously with an eye patch on to the local shopping centre, bought a coffee $4, bought macdonalds $7.50. then drove to the doctor's, bought iron tablets, eye ointment and eye drops $46. went home, was bored, bought André Rieu tickets in the Netherlands for 75 Euro ($147). so total expenditure for Friday alone was $204.50 which you'd think is ok - i'm breaking even BUT NO! because yesterday and today i have spent all day trying to work out flights from Rome to Maastricht and it's terrible, i'm going to end up spending around $600 to fly Rome to Brussels, take a train to Maastricht, then back to Brussels, then fly to Florence. Not to mention the $70 per night hotel in Maastricht. And the fact that I think i'm going to have to forward my large suitcase from melbourne directly to Florence as i don't think i will be able to take a local train lugging my large suitcase plus my hand luggage plus a handbag and stay on top of not getting robbed. This conjunctivitis is costing me an arm and a leg; it should know that when I am bored I do things like this.
3- I'm struggling to see because of my eyes, yet i've never blogged so much, spent so much time in front of my laptop, read so many travel brochures, studied so many maps in my life. I could have gone for months without doing all this, but the second i know it's difficult for me i suddenly REALLY need to read non stop for 12 hours a day. and i can't even tell if my eyes are hurting from it all cos i'm already in so much pain.
the trouble is - my eyes sort of feel okayish now, and i wouldn't mind going into work tomorrow as i have so many clients to see, but my eyes are blood red, i look like i've escaped from the set of 28 days later. so i might go to the travel agent and back to the doctors... have to stay away from shops and my laptop as much as possible; it only results in more spending.
Showing posts with label sheer stupidity. Show all posts
Showing posts with label sheer stupidity. Show all posts
Sunday, November 16, 2008
Monday, August 25, 2008
microsoft publisher...ugh
once upon a time, before i was a youth worker, i did graphic design. i stopped only because i didn't have the drive any more (and because i couldn't handle pulling three all nighters in a row, getting glandular fever from being so run down and trying to think of concepts for stuff i hated). Basically, though, i didn't give it up because i was a crap designer; i just realised that I wasn't right to be in that field cos of everything else that goes hand in hand with it.
all i do now is tiny stuff on the side; invitations for 21st and other celebrations, advertising for my uncle's business etc. and it's great, cos now i love doing it as opposed to before when i was forced to do it.
so, i work with youth workers. and they have to advertise all the time with fliers, newsletters, posters etc.
and they use publisher.
and don't get me wrong - publisher isn't the issue. when i've been on other people's computer i've used publisher and made simple, yet effective, brochures and stuff. it's not the program; if they were using Adobe or Indesign or Quark the problem would still be there.
it's like they're blind. mish-mash of colours, no thought as to whether or not their colour design is going to end up being printed in black and white, no thought to legibility, fonts. These youthies; they're into Comic Sans and Curlz.
stop and think about that for a moment.
Comic Sans
Curlz.
so then! they see me walking past and they jump out of their chairs and yell 'Bee! Bee! you're into design can you have a look at this for me and tell me what you think' and they drag me over to their computers.
and i feel like i'm going to a funeral.
i look at the screen and i see illegible fonts. i see words that are meant to stand out so they've changed the font size for each letter. i see fucked up kerning cos of the size differences. i see widows everywhere. i see text justified wherever they see fit. i see everything in the centre of the page. i see hyphenations from one line to the next - not one, but several. i see... wait for it... clip art images. Or, worse still, images that they've taken from google image search and they've used without a thought to, well anything, and they've blown it up and it's all pixellated.
what can i say?
and! don't even get me started on the language used, or their mispellings, or grammatical errors.
so i end up saying something vague like 'oh... well, um, i'd probably maybe just fix up where that hyphenated word is... and that one... and that one...' and then i have to totally lie and say 'but other than that it looks fantastic! wow - it's great!' and they kind of frown when i say my one little problem too, as though they can't work out what's wrong with having 4 hyphenated words on one poster that only has 40 words on it.
i don't want to go back to graphics - but i really struggle with this.
all i do now is tiny stuff on the side; invitations for 21st and other celebrations, advertising for my uncle's business etc. and it's great, cos now i love doing it as opposed to before when i was forced to do it.
so, i work with youth workers. and they have to advertise all the time with fliers, newsletters, posters etc.
and they use publisher.
and don't get me wrong - publisher isn't the issue. when i've been on other people's computer i've used publisher and made simple, yet effective, brochures and stuff. it's not the program; if they were using Adobe or Indesign or Quark the problem would still be there.
it's like they're blind. mish-mash of colours, no thought as to whether or not their colour design is going to end up being printed in black and white, no thought to legibility, fonts. These youthies; they're into Comic Sans and Curlz.
stop and think about that for a moment.
Comic Sans
Curlz.
so then! they see me walking past and they jump out of their chairs and yell 'Bee! Bee! you're into design can you have a look at this for me and tell me what you think' and they drag me over to their computers.
and i feel like i'm going to a funeral.
i look at the screen and i see illegible fonts. i see words that are meant to stand out so they've changed the font size for each letter. i see fucked up kerning cos of the size differences. i see widows everywhere. i see text justified wherever they see fit. i see everything in the centre of the page. i see hyphenations from one line to the next - not one, but several. i see... wait for it... clip art images. Or, worse still, images that they've taken from google image search and they've used without a thought to, well anything, and they've blown it up and it's all pixellated.
what can i say?
and! don't even get me started on the language used, or their mispellings, or grammatical errors.
so i end up saying something vague like 'oh... well, um, i'd probably maybe just fix up where that hyphenated word is... and that one... and that one...' and then i have to totally lie and say 'but other than that it looks fantastic! wow - it's great!' and they kind of frown when i say my one little problem too, as though they can't work out what's wrong with having 4 hyphenated words on one poster that only has 40 words on it.
i don't want to go back to graphics - but i really struggle with this.
Saturday, July 12, 2008
i need closure!
firstly, refer to my last post if you haven't already.
oh and also read this.
now. when i went on the Personal Development thingy i had an older man in my group, and on the second night i had a feeling that he was interested in me. I had a conversation with him and i brought up our ages. after explicitly saying that i was 24 i asked him how old he was. I would never ever do that normally to someone older, but I really wanted to reiterate to him indirectly that there was a huge age difference. so i found out he was 42.
so on the second last night i saw him coming towards me with his mobile phone, looking quite nervous. dammit, he's going to ask me for my number.
Old Man: So, Bee, i was wondering... uhm... are you going dancing tonight?
Me: ah, no, my knee has been clicking for the past hour and i don't want to push it.
Old Man: oh, ok, because i was wondering, if maybe you wanted to possibly go out now, and just catch up for a drink, like we could go and have a coffee somewhere in the city... (really hopeful, puppy-dog expression on his face)
Me: (enter rambling bullshit cos i'm lying) ah, well, wow, i'd love to, but you see, uh, i just spoke to my little sister in the toilet (firstly i didn't speak to her, secondly, when i lie why do i say doubly stupid things like i was on the phone in the toilet?) and uhm she really wants to see me, cos you know she hasn't seen me all weekend and you know she's little, she's only 14 (blatantly lying again) so i already promised her that i'm going to go home and spend some time with her, cos i haven't seen her you know? (ramble-ramble-ramble)
Old Man: oh, oh, uhm, oh, well ok....
and then i did what i always did. I GOT SUCKED IN TO FEELING SORRY FOR HIM. and before my mouth could tell my brain what it was saying this came out of my mouth:
Me: but, uhm, did you want my number?
whaaaaaaaaaaaat on earth is wrong with me. he looked surprised, and then handed his phone over to me. I realised that he probably hadn't taken his phone out for my number at all. I typed in my number while repeating 'IDIOT' over and over again to myself silently.
i finished typing it in and looked up at him. he still looked really upset and he was looking at me as though he wanted to speak but was stopping himself. he went to speak a few times but nothing came out.
so again... i felt sorry for him, sympathy not empathy, and i said:
Me:well, tomorrow we start at 6, did you want to come past the city a little earlier tomorrw, say 5, and we can catch up for a coffee then?
this time he looked even more crestfallen.
Old Man: no, uhm, i can't, unfortunately 6.00 is the absolute earliest i could come... i'm at work, oh... uhm
as he 'ohed' and 'uhmed' with his worried expression i bit my tongue, as in a literally BIT MY TONGUE. i kept on feeling sorry for him and i was one step away from offering something even more ridiculous, like 'oh, look, would you like me to be the mother of your children?' just because i felt sorry for him.
so that was a perfect example of my movie.
BUT WAIT; THERE'S MORE!
i'm about to head out the door tonight, just running around grabbing shisha and coal to have at my friend's house, and a number called my mobile that wasn't saved in there.
Me:Hello?
Old Man:Hello Bee
Me:Who's this?
Old Man:It's Old Man
Me:(omgomgomg) Old Man! How are you? (fake enthusiasm, want to die on the spot)
Old Man:good good... are you going out dancing tonight?
Me:Me? no, no, tonight i'm just hanging out with my friends, quiet one. (stop rambling)
Old Man:Oh, because i wanted to know if you'd like to come to a greek cafe with me tonight and have a couple of drinks?
Me:ah, well Old Man, my friend is expecting me (mistake number 56 - it sounds like i would go had i not already made plans)
Old Man:Oh, so you wouldn't like to come to have a drink?
Me:(fuck! i struggle with confrontation withOUT people directly asking me) uhm well, no, she's been sick for a couple of weeks and i haven't seen her in a while (total lie and rambling)
Old Man:oh ok, well what are you doing tomorrow between 10 and 1?
Me:I'm going to my accountant (finally i said something that was true, and i was so excited by this that i subconsciously sabotaged it) and we made the appointment months ago and i can't change it (SHUT UP)
Old Man:oh, ok, it's just that i'm doing another personal development program and i thought you'd like to come as my guest
Me:(hell no) wow Old Man, that sounds really great, but i can't because of the tax man, my family would kill my because we have to do our taxes together (why the hell am i telling him this?)
Old Man:so you're not dancing tonight?
Me:Mope, night off.
Old Man:I borrowed a ballroom dancing book from the library. is that what type you do?
Me:(by this point i was hysterical and i freaked) when did you borrow the book? (for some reason i desperately wanted him to say 2 months ago, before he met me, and it was just a coinkidink that he then met someone who danced)
Old Man:uhm, oh... so do you do ballroom?
Me:No. when did you borrow the book?
Old Man:oh, uhm i cant remember.
after that point i think i was so frustrated that i managed to finish the conversation without agreeing to anything, without telling him where i go dancing, without making a coffee date etc. the whole call went for over 20 minutes so it was quite a lot of distress going on on my end.
anyway, i am now saving his number as DO NOT ANSWER OLD MAN.
oh and also read this.
now. when i went on the Personal Development thingy i had an older man in my group, and on the second night i had a feeling that he was interested in me. I had a conversation with him and i brought up our ages. after explicitly saying that i was 24 i asked him how old he was. I would never ever do that normally to someone older, but I really wanted to reiterate to him indirectly that there was a huge age difference. so i found out he was 42.
so on the second last night i saw him coming towards me with his mobile phone, looking quite nervous. dammit, he's going to ask me for my number.
Old Man: So, Bee, i was wondering... uhm... are you going dancing tonight?
Me: ah, no, my knee has been clicking for the past hour and i don't want to push it.
Old Man: oh, ok, because i was wondering, if maybe you wanted to possibly go out now, and just catch up for a drink, like we could go and have a coffee somewhere in the city... (really hopeful, puppy-dog expression on his face)
Me: (enter rambling bullshit cos i'm lying) ah, well, wow, i'd love to, but you see, uh, i just spoke to my little sister in the toilet (firstly i didn't speak to her, secondly, when i lie why do i say doubly stupid things like i was on the phone in the toilet?) and uhm she really wants to see me, cos you know she hasn't seen me all weekend and you know she's little, she's only 14 (blatantly lying again) so i already promised her that i'm going to go home and spend some time with her, cos i haven't seen her you know? (ramble-ramble-ramble)
Old Man: oh, oh, uhm, oh, well ok....
and then i did what i always did. I GOT SUCKED IN TO FEELING SORRY FOR HIM. and before my mouth could tell my brain what it was saying this came out of my mouth:
Me: but, uhm, did you want my number?
whaaaaaaaaaaaat on earth is wrong with me. he looked surprised, and then handed his phone over to me. I realised that he probably hadn't taken his phone out for my number at all. I typed in my number while repeating 'IDIOT' over and over again to myself silently.
i finished typing it in and looked up at him. he still looked really upset and he was looking at me as though he wanted to speak but was stopping himself. he went to speak a few times but nothing came out.
so again... i felt sorry for him, sympathy not empathy, and i said:
Me:well, tomorrow we start at 6, did you want to come past the city a little earlier tomorrw, say 5, and we can catch up for a coffee then?
this time he looked even more crestfallen.
Old Man: no, uhm, i can't, unfortunately 6.00 is the absolute earliest i could come... i'm at work, oh... uhm
as he 'ohed' and 'uhmed' with his worried expression i bit my tongue, as in a literally BIT MY TONGUE. i kept on feeling sorry for him and i was one step away from offering something even more ridiculous, like 'oh, look, would you like me to be the mother of your children?' just because i felt sorry for him.
so that was a perfect example of my movie.
BUT WAIT; THERE'S MORE!
i'm about to head out the door tonight, just running around grabbing shisha and coal to have at my friend's house, and a number called my mobile that wasn't saved in there.
Me:Hello?
Old Man:Hello Bee
Me:Who's this?
Old Man:It's Old Man
Me:(omgomgomg) Old Man! How are you? (fake enthusiasm, want to die on the spot)
Old Man:good good... are you going out dancing tonight?
Me:Me? no, no, tonight i'm just hanging out with my friends, quiet one. (stop rambling)
Old Man:Oh, because i wanted to know if you'd like to come to a greek cafe with me tonight and have a couple of drinks?
Me:ah, well Old Man, my friend is expecting me (mistake number 56 - it sounds like i would go had i not already made plans)
Old Man:Oh, so you wouldn't like to come to have a drink?
Me:(fuck! i struggle with confrontation withOUT people directly asking me) uhm well, no, she's been sick for a couple of weeks and i haven't seen her in a while (total lie and rambling)
Old Man:oh ok, well what are you doing tomorrow between 10 and 1?
Me:I'm going to my accountant (finally i said something that was true, and i was so excited by this that i subconsciously sabotaged it) and we made the appointment months ago and i can't change it (SHUT UP)
Old Man:oh, ok, it's just that i'm doing another personal development program and i thought you'd like to come as my guest
Me:(hell no) wow Old Man, that sounds really great, but i can't because of the tax man, my family would kill my because we have to do our taxes together (why the hell am i telling him this?)
Old Man:so you're not dancing tonight?
Me:Mope, night off.
Old Man:I borrowed a ballroom dancing book from the library. is that what type you do?
Me:(by this point i was hysterical and i freaked) when did you borrow the book? (for some reason i desperately wanted him to say 2 months ago, before he met me, and it was just a coinkidink that he then met someone who danced)
Old Man:uhm, oh... so do you do ballroom?
Me:No. when did you borrow the book?
Old Man:oh, uhm i cant remember.
after that point i think i was so frustrated that i managed to finish the conversation without agreeing to anything, without telling him where i go dancing, without making a coffee date etc. the whole call went for over 20 minutes so it was quite a lot of distress going on on my end.
anyway, i am now saving his number as DO NOT ANSWER OLD MAN.
Thursday, May 8, 2008
call that exercise? PFFT!
what a joke and a half. i joined a gym near work a few months ago with my co-worker and it included a 'kick start' program which included 3 free half hour personal training sessions. i hadn't gotten around to using them cos I'd been having a little bit of vertigo and i didn't want to do an intense session while dizzy. what a joke... i could have done it while in labour (easy to say that now.)
the trainer has been calling me trying to book me in to see him for the first session and we've been playing phone tag for ages. i finally spoke to him and agreed to 6pm tonight. at 4.30 this afternoon i forgot if it was 6 or 6.30 so i called him, and he got off the phone with me with the parting comment of 'bring your towel, cos WOW i'm a hard asse!'
i actually started to stress a little as i was leaving work... what if he pushed me so hard and I couldn't go dancing tonight? worse still, what if i was so injured and I couldn't go to Ormond Hall on saturday night!?
ok, gripe numero uno: he talked waaaay too much. i LOVE talking, but i do it for free. no one pays me to talk. ok, i know he was free but i believe that I pay enough with the gym membership to expect that he will SHUT UP. and he's male so it wasn't like he could do two things at once; if he was training me and talking i would think it was alright, but not only did he stop but he insisted on stopping me so i could listen to his crap stories.
secondly - he kept on going on and on about how he was a 'bad asse' and a 'hard asse' on the people he trains... i began my training at 6pm and am writing this now (on my lovely mac) at 2am WEARING THE SAME CLOTHES because i didn't break out in even the tiniest sweat. i was so comfortable with how i smelt (i didn't, basically) that i even went dancing in these clothes.
and C - he just kept on saying stupid shit. like he had to reach up high to fix a part on the equipment, and he put down his clipboard, pulled down his tshirt, tucked his tshirt into his elasticised pants, pulled his jumper down over his waist, then turned to me to explain 'sorry, i'm really paranoid about people seeing my undies.' WHO SAYS THAT!?
and finally he just thought he was way tougher than what he was... he stopped me in the middle of one of my reps and said out of nowhere 'wow, you know... woah, gee, i coach under fourteens boys in soccar... and gee! do i feel sorry for them... you should see what i make them do!' and i asked what. and he literally said the following, word for word:
'well... wow... i just make them do heaps, like i am such a hard asse on them, you have no idea... like, for example, they are meant to do, like, 15 push ups, and, cos i'm such a hard asse, i make them do, like... 20! and i say to them, i say nine... eight... seven...six... five... five... five.... five.... five... five... four... you know, like i put in an extra 5 when i'm saying 5 and i push them all the way to 20.'
when i used to do boxing and three different venues three times a week i did probably around 4 to 5 thousand push ups and sit ups.
oh yeah! and lucky last - when he was making another appointment with me in the office his boss came in to ask him a question, and he turned to her and said 'so, like, when am i getting my glamour shots done?' she rolled her eyes and walked out. he turned to me, and in fonzie style said sleazily to me, 'you know... i'm a model.' i didn't know what to say, so i quietly asked, 'really?'. he threw his head back, slapped his knee and laughed, yelling 'i can't believe you believed that! nah they're just taking my picture to put on the wall with all the personal trainers. they're dressing me as superman and suspending me from the ceiling and making it look like i can fly and they're taking a photo.'
again, i was dumbfounded... 'really?'
again, he pissed himself laughing, but this time he cried 'i can't believe i just ripped you again.'
i am a DICKHEAD MAGNET.
the trainer has been calling me trying to book me in to see him for the first session and we've been playing phone tag for ages. i finally spoke to him and agreed to 6pm tonight. at 4.30 this afternoon i forgot if it was 6 or 6.30 so i called him, and he got off the phone with me with the parting comment of 'bring your towel, cos WOW i'm a hard asse!'
i actually started to stress a little as i was leaving work... what if he pushed me so hard and I couldn't go dancing tonight? worse still, what if i was so injured and I couldn't go to Ormond Hall on saturday night!?
ok, gripe numero uno: he talked waaaay too much. i LOVE talking, but i do it for free. no one pays me to talk. ok, i know he was free but i believe that I pay enough with the gym membership to expect that he will SHUT UP. and he's male so it wasn't like he could do two things at once; if he was training me and talking i would think it was alright, but not only did he stop but he insisted on stopping me so i could listen to his crap stories.
secondly - he kept on going on and on about how he was a 'bad asse' and a 'hard asse' on the people he trains... i began my training at 6pm and am writing this now (on my lovely mac) at 2am WEARING THE SAME CLOTHES because i didn't break out in even the tiniest sweat. i was so comfortable with how i smelt (i didn't, basically) that i even went dancing in these clothes.
and C - he just kept on saying stupid shit. like he had to reach up high to fix a part on the equipment, and he put down his clipboard, pulled down his tshirt, tucked his tshirt into his elasticised pants, pulled his jumper down over his waist, then turned to me to explain 'sorry, i'm really paranoid about people seeing my undies.' WHO SAYS THAT!?
and finally he just thought he was way tougher than what he was... he stopped me in the middle of one of my reps and said out of nowhere 'wow, you know... woah, gee, i coach under fourteens boys in soccar... and gee! do i feel sorry for them... you should see what i make them do!' and i asked what. and he literally said the following, word for word:
'well... wow... i just make them do heaps, like i am such a hard asse on them, you have no idea... like, for example, they are meant to do, like, 15 push ups, and, cos i'm such a hard asse, i make them do, like... 20! and i say to them, i say nine... eight... seven...six... five... five... five.... five.... five... five... four... you know, like i put in an extra 5 when i'm saying 5 and i push them all the way to 20.'
when i used to do boxing and three different venues three times a week i did probably around 4 to 5 thousand push ups and sit ups.
oh yeah! and lucky last - when he was making another appointment with me in the office his boss came in to ask him a question, and he turned to her and said 'so, like, when am i getting my glamour shots done?' she rolled her eyes and walked out. he turned to me, and in fonzie style said sleazily to me, 'you know... i'm a model.' i didn't know what to say, so i quietly asked, 'really?'. he threw his head back, slapped his knee and laughed, yelling 'i can't believe you believed that! nah they're just taking my picture to put on the wall with all the personal trainers. they're dressing me as superman and suspending me from the ceiling and making it look like i can fly and they're taking a photo.'
again, i was dumbfounded... 'really?'
again, he pissed himself laughing, but this time he cried 'i can't believe i just ripped you again.'
i am a DICKHEAD MAGNET.
Tuesday, November 20, 2007
tiger balm madness
oh god.i just bought 8 new pairs of contact lenses; 2 violet, 2 light brown, 2 grey, 1 green, 1 blue. I have been wearing the violet ones for the past week with no problems. i wore an orangey-red dress on the weekend and decided it would go well with green eyes... so out came a new pack of contacts.
i tried to put them in my eyes and they stung like crazy, i could only get one in and i couldn't stop crying and my nose turned into a tap and i took it out and that was the end of that.
the next day exactly the same thing happened. i rinsed and re rinsed the contacts. still turned me into a bright red mess so i gave up.
third time lucky today... not. not even 1 second after i put the contact in my eye all the white turned bright pink. i took it out and dialled my optometrist furiously with water pouring out of my pink eye and bright red nostril.
'... i have rinsed them... several times, it's been 3 days of rinsing and rerinsing... no it's not because i'm not used to them, it feels like my eyeball is on fire, it feels like -'
OH MY GOD
'...deep heat...'
i nearly said tiger balm. it clicked suddenly that the contact lens problem coincided with me buying a new jar of tiger balm which i have been applying liberally every minute of the day to every dance injury area of my body.
'... not a problem Miss Bee, please keep your contact lenses and we will replace them free of charge, you obviously received a dodgey pair.'
i feel like crap. i'm now waiting for karma to come and bite me for being a stupid idiot.
come on karma.
Friday, November 9, 2007
linguistics is the root of my problem...
i was breath tested on the way to dancing last night even though it was early, probably Melbourne Cup related. i wound down my window and there were two police officers chatting away and slowly coming up to me.
now i'm not sure if i found this difficult to deal with because i have my degree in english and linguistics, but hmmm....
the police officer was talking to his friend in a monotonous voice 'yeah-i-know-what-you're-saying-and-please-take-one-continous-breath-until-i-say-agree-with-you-stop-completely-about-it-joe-when-the-breathaliser-beeps-twice-it-will-indicate-to-me-that-you-are-right-to-go.'
well firstly when he said stop i thought he was talking to the other cop so i kept blowing and turning red cos i was running out of breath then he just sort of pulled it out of my mouth. and had no idea that he even told me that i was right to go.
i was so tempted to say 'listen to my pauses... pay attention to my intonation... TAKE IT ON BOARD!'
now i'm not sure if i found this difficult to deal with because i have my degree in english and linguistics, but hmmm....
the police officer was talking to his friend in a monotonous voice 'yeah-i-know-what-you're-saying-and-please-take-one-continous-breath-until-i-say-agree-with-you-stop-completely-about-it-joe-when-the-breathaliser-beeps-twice-it-will-indicate-to-me-that-you-are-right-to-go.'
well firstly when he said stop i thought he was talking to the other cop so i kept blowing and turning red cos i was running out of breath then he just sort of pulled it out of my mouth. and had no idea that he even told me that i was right to go.
i was so tempted to say 'listen to my pauses... pay attention to my intonation... TAKE IT ON BOARD!'
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