|Posted on March 24, 2013 at 8:45 AM|
Shhh. It's a secret.
I'm writing something for the Washington Post. (YAY! right?)
And the deadline is noon.
And it was pretty much done since Friday, but I'm touching it up. You, know. Over and over. 'Cause, this is a nice thing, right? Should be good?
Then, BAM, the husband, who is oblivious to all this, walks, in and hands me a LIVE GENADE.
For real. Hands me a LIVE GRENADE (not a typo, just for emphasis).
And article from WIRED about the same topic that uses two of the EXACT SAME EXAMPLES pretty much in the same way. Enough that I checked the byline. (Duh, no HILDIE, you didn't write it.)
And my first thought was, well, okay, but right, so like HOW MANY PEOPLE GET WIRED?
And now I'm rewriting. By noon.
So now you know. The backstory. When you see the thing in Style.
Call me Sysphus.