I am brilliant.

I spent the last 24-hours and will spend the next 12 at yet another offsite. This time in the "city of broad-shoulders, the hog butcher to the world" as Carl Sandburg called Chicago. All well and good, and nice people too--genial, affable, intelligent, etc.

So why do I feel like filling an old sock with quarters and batting people to death with it? Why? Because I am with an English Creative Director who is driving me mad.

ME: I'll be back in a sec, I have to go pee.
HER: Brilliant!

ME: The hotel is just a few blocks from the office.
HER: Brilliant!

ME: Not a great deal of ventilation in this conference room. Let's open the door.
HER: Brilliant!

Brits usually sound smart. I guess because American's you know, like, you know, kinda, you know, you follow, you know, like, I mean, sound so dumb.

But, lady, get a Roget's already.