My first duty as Lord of Outlook would be to dedicate the first week and all off staff training to the deceased Phoenix people. The first week and some odd days would consists of slideshows, streaming video clips, poetry memorials and crying circles for Nicole. On the last day of staff training, we would have a brief moment of silence for the rest of the Phoenix crew.
Afterwards, we would continue producing high quality papers for the world. The only difference being the forbidance of some songs (MGMT's Kids, that friggin ludacris song, gay bright eyes gay, lesbo crazy rilo kiley chick, etc.) I would also make wednesday paste-ups "Costume Wednesday." I would bring costumes and delegate certain members to wear them and dance when their number is chosen (all participants were given a random number via gmail). More snacks, less tears and NO m dashes. This is how outlook would be.
First things first: Owls will become the Outlook mascot. All of those repulsive Reginalds will be scraped off of the sweatshirts, and replaced with none other than a bunch of wide-eyed owls.
Next, me and my co copy editor, Steph J., will give copy editing staff a much needed makeover. The editing will be done in pink pens and decorated with hearts, bubbles and bunnies.
Lastly, Emily Soule would be our loyal, wonderful and oh-so-cute EIC. She would teach us to make graphics, and despite our failure, be cute as hell everyday.
Well Chris Putman is still alive and Sky is alive? I dont know how they managed to survive, but apparently they are better then all the editors who went cuz they lived.
Lennons Greiving steps: 1. Fuck outlook?!?!?!??? EVERYONE IS DEAD 2. Front page of the next outlook: everyone is dead....
Outside of Outlook Lennon Cries For never again will he see Ians face! The duet of Lucky is now Six feet under! Nick markman will never get to brown nose to Nicole again! Thy Mebi clan will cease to exist! Laura will never love men! Mantup will miss McWake!
My first order of business would be to find all new staff members. Then I would raise money for plastic surgery so that they could look just like the deceased editors. My final step would be to live in denial.
Oh, and my co-editor Ana and I would replace the carpets with a foot of glitter and compliments written on pink scented paper.
I would miss Loren an awful lot and become the world's greatest copy-editor in his honor. Plus, I would get a tattoo of Alt 0150 to remember his last obsession.
A the king of outlook, I would search for a queen. Then, I would force each staff member to read sports ilustrated and watch sportcenter every day as torture.
Then I would prance around the outlook room singing "Big Papa". After a while I would miss my fellow editors, so I would go to the crash scene. I'd clip kev's nipple hairs from his body for a sovenier, give gracie one last hug and drink a diet Coke in Mebuses honor. Then I would go back to being a ruthless tyrant.
My first duty as Lord of Outlook would be to dedicate the first week and all off staff training to the deceased Phoenix people. The first week and some odd days would consists of slideshows, streaming video clips, poetry memorials and crying circles for Nicole. On the last day of staff training, we would have a brief moment of silence for the rest of the Phoenix crew.
ReplyDeleteAfterwards, we would continue producing high quality papers for the world. The only difference being the forbidance of some songs (MGMT's Kids, that friggin ludacris song, gay bright eyes gay, lesbo crazy rilo kiley chick, etc.) I would also make wednesday paste-ups "Costume Wednesday." I would bring costumes and delegate certain members to wear them and dance when their number is chosen (all participants were given a random number via gmail). More snacks, less tears and NO m dashes. This is how outlook would be.
I would take everyone captive and force them to sit inside and learn how to make graphics (instead of playing nine square out in the sun.)
ReplyDeleteOh wait, I've already done that :)
First things first: Owls will become the Outlook mascot. All of those repulsive Reginalds will be scraped off of the sweatshirts, and replaced with none other than a bunch of wide-eyed owls.
ReplyDeleteNext, me and my co copy editor, Steph J., will give copy editing staff a much needed makeover. The editing will be done in pink pens and decorated with hearts, bubbles and bunnies.
Lastly, Emily Soule would be our loyal, wonderful and oh-so-cute EIC. She would teach us to make graphics, and despite our failure, be cute as hell everyday.
Well Chris Putman is still alive
ReplyDeleteand Sky is alive? I dont know how they managed to survive, but apparently they are better then all the editors who went cuz they lived.
Lennons Greiving steps:
1. Fuck outlook?!?!?!??? EVERYONE IS DEAD
2. Front page of the next outlook: everyone is dead....
Outside of Outlook
Lennon Cries
For never again will he see Ians face!
The duet of Lucky is now Six feet under!
Nick markman will never get to brown nose to Nicole again!
Thy Mebi clan will cease to exist!
Laura will never love men!
Mantup will miss McWake!
On a positive note: The Copy-editors are dead...
My first order of business would be to find all new staff members. Then I would raise money for plastic surgery so that they could look just like the deceased editors. My final step would be to live in denial.
ReplyDeleteOh, and my co-editor Ana and I would replace the carpets with a foot of glitter and compliments written on pink scented paper.
I would miss Loren an awful lot and become the world's greatest copy-editor in his honor. Plus, I would get a tattoo of Alt 0150 to remember his last obsession.
A the king of outlook, I would search for a queen. Then, I would force each staff member to read sports ilustrated and watch sportcenter every day as torture.
ReplyDeleteThen I would prance around the outlook room singing "Big Papa". After a while I would miss my fellow editors, so I would go to the crash scene. I'd clip kev's nipple hairs from his body for a sovenier, give gracie one last hug and drink a diet Coke in Mebuses honor. Then I would go back to being a ruthless tyrant.