Editing makes me cranky.

I've always taken great pleasure in editing: my dad and I would sit down at the kitchen table on Sunday mornings with the crappy local paper and try to one-up each other, competing to identify the most egregious errors. On a less nitpicky level, I like being able to take something that's not quite right and fiddle with it just a bit to make it all fall together nicely.

So thank you, overpaid writer of imprecise, wifty, overdue drivel, for asking me to "take a quick look" at your "final" draft before it gets sent out to the world. You've taken all the joy out of something I once loved.

And PS: F7, dude. Learn it; live it; use it before you send me your crap.