As a newspaper writer, if there’s one sure way to get an editor
all bent out of shape, it’s to use cliches in your articles.
To write with cliches is considered lazy writing and you can bet
your bottom dollar it will solicit a sound tongue lashing from the
big cheese
– not to mention making you a laughingstock among fellow
writers.
But I like cliches. They’re clever and usually dead on
– which is why they’re used time and time again.
As a newspaper writer, if there’s one sure way to get an editor all bent out of shape, it’s to use cliches in your articles.
To write with cliches is considered lazy writing and you can bet your bottom dollar it will solicit a sound tongue lashing from the big cheese – not to mention making you a laughingstock among fellow writers.
But I like cliches. They’re clever and usually dead on – which is why they’re used time and time again.
As an ode to cliches, while talking on the phone with a friend the other day, I tried to use as many cliches as I could fit into the conversation.
It went something like this:
Friend: So what have you been up to?
Me: I’ve been working like a dog lately – I’ve been busier than the toothfairy in Kentucky. Having a real job definitely isn’t a piece of cake like I thought it would be, which has been a little hard to swallow. Especially with my champagne tastes and the beer budget I’m on. I feel like I don’t even have two nickels to rub together.
Friend: Why don’t you take a few days off then?
Me: No, I have to keep my nose to the grindstone. I can’t just fly off the handle every time I get a little stressed out. But enough shoptalk. So, I was thinking we should go to San Francisco one of these weekends and tie one on. What do you think?
Friend: I don’t have any money – I’m totally broke.
Me: Yeah, you can say that again. I’ve just about had it up to here with this whole notion of taxes. Do you know how much they take out of my check every month? For Pete’s sake – do they think money grows on trees around here?
I pay my rent every month on a wing and a prayer that there’s going to be money in my account. I wish I was born with a silver spoon in my mouth so I could whine about how no one ever takes me seriously because I come from money.
I know that money doesn’t buy happiness, but it would buy me that new watch I’ve been wanting for months, and that would definitely make me happy. Wouldn’t it be nice to be filthy rich?
Friend: Oh yeah. Hey, I think I’m going to get a new job doing something in the medical industry making lots of money. Some lady told me I can be her partner and go around the state doing something with HIPPA.
Me: Hmmm. That sounds fishy – I think she’s taking you for a ride. Does she know that you don’t know anything about HIPPA – do you even know what it stands for?
Friend: No, but I don’t need to. She’ll take care of all the important stuff.
(Side note: This particular friend probably isn’t the brightest crayon in the box, but she’s a laugh a minute and hanging out with her is never a dull moment. Besides, being a couple sandwiches short of a picnic has no effect on being a great person).
Me: Whatever – just don’t give her any money. You don’t want her to clean your clock and leave you blowing in the wind. You know I’ll be there through thick and thin for you, but I can’t bail you out financially if the other shoe drops.
Friend: Nothing’s going to happen – and if she does ask for money, I’ll get out of it.
Me: Sounds like a plan. I’m sure everything will be OK, but it just rubs me the wrong way a little. These wham, bam thank you ma’am schemes are as easy as pie to pull off and while this lady’s laughing all the way to the bank, you’re destitute and even more broke than you already are.
Friend: I said I know – don’t worry so much. So is it very cold down there? It’s freezing here.
Me: No, I don’t think it gets nearly as cold here as it does in Chico. The temperature here is fairly constant, apparently. Not like in Chico where the winters are cold as ice and the summers are hot enough to fry an egg on the sidewalk.
Friend: Are you OK? You’ve been talking kind of funny. Are you sure you’re getting enough sleep?
Me: Of course, I’ve been sleeping like a baby. Speaking of babies, I saw a picture of Chrissy’s niece. Poor thing, she looks like she hit every branch on her fall out of the ugly tree. But don’t tell Chrissy I said that, she’d beat me like a drum if she knew, considering I told her the baby was the spitting image of her sister.
Friend: Well, I gotta go. Don’t work too hard. It sounds like it might be taking its toll on you.
Me: I won’t burn the midnight oil or the candle at both ends. I think I might be taking a trip to see you soon – there’s no place like home.
