Precisely at the halfway point of my umpteenth rereading of the Belgariad series (which will be followed by an equal umpteenth reread of the Malloreon), I am still inclined to hope that someone defies author David Eddings's wishes and finds a way to put the story on film. I'm sorry, late Mr. Eddings. I want to see it. I won't stop reading. I promise.
There are few things as frustrating as... Sitting in the Monday morning meeting that's twice as long as it needs to be, while the boss goes through her stack of work and hands it to you, saying, "do this and do this and do this and do this" - then all afternoon she sits in her office chatting and gossiping with another department head while you're wondering exactly when you can fit it into your schedule to hang yourself. *** Knowing that when I keel over with a heart attack or succumb to my darker impulses and hang myself my corporate overlords will lack the self-awareness to see their responsibility in bringing about my demise. *** Listening to the boss and ad manager trying to come up with a tagline to promote our product. Meanwhile, I've got at least a dozen that easily top anything you guys have thrown at the wall so far. (But apparently they're fine with directly ripping off tag lines created by very expensive marketing firms for very big publica...
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