amused"I love a good semi-colon, but damn isn't worth one. Comma or full stop. I vote for full stop. Quorum of me. Motion carried unanimously."
You heard it here first, folks: Brooke is a quorum. All the tiny digestive bacteria in the belly of the Brooke have full voting rights, and we poor fools are outnumbered in our mono-organic shame.
And now it's time for more quality adventures in Brooke's Lagoon, where all my wishy-washy modifiers are eventually banished:
"The word very doesn't make first any firster. Misbegotten modifier lagoon has a special wading pool for you, very, with your very own, very hungry family of caymans."
...and...
"Oh, in FACT! I thought it was all a dream! IN FACT. LAGOON. SPLASHY SPLASHY."
...and...
"Yoohoo, very! (whistles) How'd you get out of the lagoon, you little rascal? ALLIGATOR HOSPITALITY SQUAD! PLEASE ESCORT VERY BACK TO THE LAGOON."
Remember, ladies and gentlemen, when you're booking your next vacation, choose Brooke's Lagoon! Maybe you'll never be seen again, but all those postcards that manage to make it back to civilization will be really, really well-edited.
When she's not making me snort Diet Dr Pepper over the editing process, Brooke is a pharmacologist, and helpfully broke her knee in a motorcycle accident. This makes her perfect both for checking the medical details in Newsflesh -- a wacky zombie adventure that will not include glaring pharmaceutical or 'riding your bike without dying horribly' errors. She's concise, generally accurate, and incredibly pointy when she wants to be. How I adore her. (It helps that she's a fellow member of the Orange Army, and while she fights my pandemic-lovin' ways, she shares my desire to turn the entire planet over to the giant squid.)
This is Brooke. Adore her, because there's a more than reasonable chance that she's heavily armed and might destroy you for the sake of her own petty amusement.
July 23 2008, 17:20:30 UTC 8 years ago