Previously on Adam Riff:
» The final technical writing class I need for certification commenced last Thursday.
"Karen P, Karen T…"
In TWRT 64, students spend the quarter working on a single group project.
My group must design a class on applications of Adobe software in technical writing that the college wants to offer in the future.
I can't escape him!
Within seconds of signing on to Instant Messenger after class, he asked to see my résumé, or rather, how I've formatted mine.
He's my own personal Andy Bernard.
My buddy Jose was in town for a funeral. We lunched together on Friday.
While debating the output of various film critics, he remarked authoritatively: "Jon, I read mainstream critics. You read alternative critics."
Excuse me? I thought. First of all, The New Yorker is not mainstream. Only wankers like you read it. Second, way to label me, dude. Jon Yu Mr. Alternative Media. Down with formal criticism! Luke Y. Thompson and Sean Burns forever!
Jose called me today.
"I wrote some articles for a web site a few years ago that are embarrassing in retrospect and was wondering how to excise them."
"Well, ask the people who manage the web site to remove the articles from their server."
"I can't delete them myself?"
"Like, zap them off the Internet with a ray gun? No."
"Actually, hold on. Let me see if any electromagnetic pulse bombs are available on eBay."
I snark because I care.