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My name is Liz. I need direction. I overuse commas. My house is a mess, my hair needs a trim and I have no marketable skills: It’s fun here, you’ll see!

Got a question, comment, proposal of marriage? Great! Email me at liz@theproductivecough.com

Contact Me, Folks!

Got a question, comment, proposal of marriage? Great! Email me at liz@theproductivecough.com

Show Your Love

August 17th, 2009

Olé.

This is a brochure for La Salsa’s catering services:

I can see parties and events being turned into fiestas, for sure. “Event” is a vague term, but unless it’s preceded by the word “catastrophic” or “toxic,” you can usually count on there being a somewhat festive atmosphere. And “party,” well, that’s what the word “fiesta” actually means.

But a meeting? How does one turn that into a fiesta? My brother Louis and I were speculating on how that would go that the other day. It went something like this:

“Hey Mike, did you get the memo about the Budget Fiesta we’re having later to discuss last quarter’s numbers?”

“Sure did Cheryl. I just hope it goes better than last week’s Scheduling Fiesta. Johnson really chewed us out in front of everybody.”

“Yeah. That was really unfair of him. He should totally have cut you some slack. After all, it was you drove him home after the office Christmas Fiesta.”

“Word. And did you hear there might be layoffs next month?”

“Yeah. That’s gonna be one helluva fiesta.”

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