azurelunatic: Obviously this is the place to come if you want to get murdered by lunatics.  (murdered by lunatics)
I had been chatting with [personal profile] sithjawa on Friday night about weather. Specifically, we had been discussing the nature of "sleet" and "hail", in light of a SF Bay Area weather forecast about same.

The types of sky-water under discussion were:
Non-small and often irregular chunks of frozen sky-water
Small, round, frozen pellets of sky-water
Fluffy crystalline structures of sky-water
Half-frozen, half-liquid sky slushie

I held that sky-slushie is sleet, and small frozen pellets are still hail. No one was disputing the large frozen chunks being hail, nor the fluffy ones being snow. Apparently some places call the small round frozen pellets "sleet", and the sky-slushie "wintery mix". I hold that "wintery mix" is the worst kind of snack food, and involves some ungodly mix of different types of cold precipitation.

I woke up earlier than expected. This was good, because it let me get started. I had vague hopes we'd be able to actually get to the 2:30 movie in Union City. So I had breakfast, did some car-cleaning (including the long-awaited swap of foot mats and vacuuming), and I was out by sometime after 1.

Tif and I had tried planning our afternoon around seeing Jupiter Ascending, but the "wintery mix" falling out of the sky ensured that we would be too late to see the 2:30 showing where we wanted to go. So we went to Home Depot (across the way from our usual shopping pursuits) via Starbucks.

Now, the thing about seeing a movie that's not doing so great at the box office is, the box office stops giving it that many slots as things trail off. By now, Jupiter Ascending is at two usable showings per theatre, max. (By "usable", I mean that neither of us should be having with 3D.)

We discussed where to go next. She had some errands to run at Bed, Bath, & Beyond. We found one of those was just a few miles down the road. Then she got the idea to see if there was a theatre anywhere near that.

Not only was there a theatre near there, but it was showing the movie within a reasonable length of time. We hit the road, and it was not terrible, and Tif even had time to text back and forth with Fairlight a bit, teasing him a little about his upcoming birthday. (Happy Birthday! Hope it was good!)

We managed to get to the mall, find the theatre, get parked, get tickets, navigate the concessions, find seats, and take turns in the bathroom, before the movie started. I sat back down in my seat just as the screen wavered into the logos.

I went into Jupiter Ascending expecting the following things:
Read more... )

What I got:
Read more... )

Was it good? Well, there were two action sequences during which I could have easily taken a bathroom run with no real harm done to my understanding of the movie. Which is often a sign that the editor needs to take up a sawed-off pool noodle and wallop the nearest Wachowski with it.

Did I enjoy it? Heck yes.

We located BB&B, our reason for coming to the mall. By this time it was very dark and also rainy. The shades were sort of drawn and it looked very deserted. We sort of wondered if they were even open. They were basically deserted inside, but open. Unfortunately they did not even have the section she was looking for, but we only learned that after going around the entire store. Then the one open register closed just as I went up to it, so we checked out at customer service.

Tif did something terrible to her foot over the last few months. Recently it has progressed from kinda not good to ow kinda fuckin' broken. I assured her that she would be taking the little cart at our next stop.

The reason I do these shopping runs with Tif, besides that we always enjoy ourselves on them, is that Tif doesn't drive. The reason Tif doesn't drive is that she doesn't have a license. The reason she doesn't have a license? Well, that involves a little bit of a lack of depth perception, which is sort of a really bad plan at highway speeds.

Tif had a certain amount of trepidation about the topic of driving a store scooter.

It all went basically okay, though. Our usual hour of attack means that they're restocking the store and have made the aisles into a general accessibility nightmare, but either there's that or there are crowds, and at least giant pallets of god-knows-what don't give me the crawlin' freakouts. So there were a few tight corners and one place that she tried to back out of but stuff was in the way and eventually she asked me to clear the way forward and I did. But she drove the thing! And she did stunningly well at backing up for a novice.

Our plan was that we would eschew any frozen groceries until after movie and/or dinner, but Tif was tired enough after that round of shopping that she reckoned we could go further afield if we didn't have to come back for frozen stuff: she could get frozen stuff elsewhere. So we went in search of a Red Robin. There was one just down the way, Google said!

Google steered us to a really deserted-looking mall. The mall itself was very closed after 9pm. The parking lot was sparsely lit. There were some neoned-up outbuildings, but we saw a car maybe once every five minutes.

"This is where go to get murdered by lunatics," Tif said quite definitely, or words to that effect.

There was no Red Robin. Tif found another one, somewhere at the ass-end of the Bay. We thought we could get there before they closed, and we thought right!

Unfortunately, apparently movie popcorn has gluten. :( So Tif did not enjoy the post-movie time as much as she otherwise might have.

Having a character named Mike and having a buddy named Mike who occasionally shows up in work stories results in some really awkward namespace collisions. My character Mike, when his books are -- okay, Mike says that they're not his books, they're his wife's boo -- MIKE YOU FUCKER, THANKS FOR LETTING ME KNOW YOU GOT MARRIED -- ks, and he's just the chatty one one who can see me -- anyway, when I'm working on those books such that they're in my brainspace, he is the Mike, and all others are lesser. (He says thanks. And points at the terrible Mike in his class group.)

On the way back, we stopped off in a friendly parking lot in San Bruno so I could fish the ibuprofen out of my handbag, and a diet coke out of Tif's groceries in the trunk. Then we got stuff unloaded back at her place. I got annoyed enough by the rapidly cycling streetlight that I looked up how to report those. Because it's San Francisco, there's an app. Because it's a poorly funded local government dealie, it's got problems. Because I'm me, after I reported the streetlight, I sent feedback on the app via their very broken in-app feedback link. I'm not sure how they managed to do that thing, but it's amazingly broken.

Sunday: sleep, laundry, and sorting BPAL.

I have three little ammo cases mostly full of BPAL imps. I keep them alphabetized. I will be exploring certain means of identification.

I had played in perhaps a few too many of [community profile] synecdochic_decants' circles, so I had many things to file ... especially as I had just got a shipping notice of more on the way.
azurelunatic: Dreamwidth is powered by [disco ball] (dw disco)
I woke up and got online to the devastating news that Leonard Nimoy had died.

Some months ago, Purple and I had discussed the way that both of us, and a lot of weird nerd children, had had a particular alien who had helped us get through a fuckton of loneliness and rejection by our alleged peers. His alien had been Mork. My alien had been Spock. After I cried hysterically in #yuletide for a few minutes, I guess the brief idea of calling out grieving floated through my mind but didn't attach to anything: I knew without even having to think about it that the news would be bouncing through #cupcake and [off-topic] and I would be among fellow mourners. I grieve with thee.

While my fingers and eyes were working, my brain spent a good chunk of the morning before lunch curled up next to a friend.

Over lunch (pizza, because the burritos are contaminated this week) I happened to mention that I'd gone to bed without writing about the day on Thursday night. Purple asked how much I typically wrote. I made a reasonable guess. After what I reckoned to be smiling at the quaint measurement system, he was impressed, because 3-4 kilobytes of text is not a small amount to just dash off, and he would probably not generate that much text about what he'd done in a day (and this is why he doesn't keep a journal). I allowed as how some days were more than others, and I did things like foreshadow and put in running themes. I gave the SUV thing as an example of a thing that I would have woven throughout the day until it reached the culmination in the parking lot. "You wouldn't have even recognized that it was the same guy who passed us if I hadn't told you!" he pointed out. (Let alone the part where I didn't even register that someone had passed us.) Hooray faceblindness.

So tonight, after writing up Thursday properly, I checked to see how much text I'd generated. That one was a little over 9 kilobytes. Oops.

Purple and I had been having a quiet conversation about Leonard Nimoy, a bit, and I was feeling sad, when Lennon Glasses Guy and one of the other lunch crowd turned to Purple to ask them to solve a debate: what exactly did it fuck up when there were two copies of one mac address on the same network. That got Purple going. He's the guy that everyone turns to as an authority about many of these things. So he held forth. It turned out that he had in fact personally experienced the bad effects of a MAC address conflict at work. His not!boyfriend had said: "Purple, I just logged in to your dev box..." Turns out a lab machine had faked the same MAC as Purple's. Oops.

I asked Madam Standards how many colors black I was wearing. She had not realized that there was so much variation in the things that she had thought were just 'black'. This was apropos of The Dress. (She and I do not see eye to eye.)

Got a chance to chat with my manager on her way out the door. She's had the flu, and there were allergies overlapping; she said something about all the yellow dust. I made an Amber Spyglass crack. She giggled.

Between all of the things that were going on, there was no milkshake run. radius discovered that he was actually kind of hungry, and his side of the office had run out of M&Ms and no one had restocked them in the afternoon. There were also no gingersnaps.

I reckoned that I needed a walk to clear my head, and it was also time that I checked in with lb's Overlady, so I decided a supply run could be in order. I grabbed a few little plastic cups and got together some chocolate covered espresso beans, a ginger cookie out of my break room, and some M&Ms. That was a little more than was easy to carry, so I stuffed the espresso beans in a mug, balanced the cookie on a napkin on top, and carried the M&Ms in my other hand.

Going out doors is easy. Going in doors often requires a badge. So I swapped the M&Ms to balance them on top of the cookie, operated the badge with my right hand, and opened the door with my left hand -- and promptly spilled the M&Ms off the top of the cookie onto the floor. As I tried desperately to salvage the situation, the cookie toppled as well.

I picked up the scattered M&Ms, looked at them and the cookie sadly, and put them in the nearest compost trash. Friends don't give friends floor cookies. At least I had the espresso beans, protected within the cheerfully patterned mug.

radius was glad to see the espresso beans. I cautioned him against overenthusiasm, as caffeine poisoning often offends.

My next stop was lb's Overlady, who gave me intelligence that the new guy, the one who was taking over everything after the last three clowns had been shuffled out, was also not much longer for the company, and his last day would be ... Friday! Yay! She urged caution and diplomacy. She was also glad to see the chocolate covered espresso beans.

A friend in another department did some research. Now, there is always a small element of Musical Executives. It is a very small valley. Thus we learned a few things:

The incoming exec implemented something based on the same root technology as the helldesk program at his old place.
The incoming exec is therefore unlikely to discard the helldesk software out of hand.
The incoming exec may actually know what $SOFTWARE looks like when it's functioning properly.
The incoming exec, if we are very very lucky, may recognize the helldesk situation as being terrible.

Lannister has a helldesk derivative of her own to deal with. She did not escape unscathed.

I'd had to do my hours first thing in the morning, because this was the day that the Old Contractor Management Company was letting go of me, and therefore I had to do my hours ASAP so they could get them put in ASAP and get everything done in the coming week. So 7pm was my deadline. I'd be done by then. Purple pinged me about dinner. I assented. This time I would not do dumb car tricks!

Purple thought he saw a little white car behind him as he made the U-turn, but it was a different little white car. It's so hard to tell these things in the dark.

We wound up attempting to explain Cards Against Humanity to Ms. Antisocialest Butterfly. It was great.

I saw a guy who looked almost exactly like the guy who runs the Secret Milkshake Bunker, except he was wearing an orange headband, walking out. However, my facial recognition skills are dodgy at best, so Purple was not at all sure that this was the right guy.

Purple got something with a side dish of sour cream. So did Ms. Antisocialest Butterfly. Mine didn't have it. Purple had extra, and offered me some. My knife was covered with the very bright red sauce that was all over the ... cheese thing.

"Sorry for getting my sauce in your sour cream," I said.

Ms. Antisocialest Butterfly made the face that meant that she was thinking dirty, dirty thoughts.

I made the appalled face, and it was only a tiny bit forced. "Oh god no," I said. "I know we're very close, but we're not THAT kind of friends."

Purple didn't entirely follow exactly what she'd meant, but he knew it was entirely filthy. Heh.

I have been enjoying doing all the bill-related math in my head. It makes a fun exercise for me. It had been a while since I'd refreshed my cash on hand, so I retrieved some fives and rather a lot of ones. Ms. Antisocialest Butterfly stared. "Why do...?"

"Ice cream," I said. That didn't actually answer anything.

Purple clarified: when you get a $3-and-something serving of ice cream using decimal currency, you get a lot of ones. I'm not actually a stripper. :D

It came time to go home. I claimed a hug goodnight. "See you tomorrow!" Purple started to say, and then corrected himself. We both had plans. Mine involved shopping with Tif, and Jupiter Rising. He said I'd have to tell him whether he should watch it or not.
azurelunatic: Azz and best friend grabbing each other's noses.  (Default)

I arrived at work to find unusually scant pickings in the way of parking spaces. I wound up wedging my car in next to a Jeep which was parked uncomfortably close to the line, who was in turn evading a shiny silver Lexus SUV (here I would say "of course", but my aunt drives a not-so-shiny silver one of those which is like at least 10 at this point) which was parked ... well, one of the tires was "on" the line, where by "on" I mean "also mostly over". So it certainly wasn't the Jeep's fault.

I hit lunch early because of the now-inevitable 1pm Thursday meeting. If it's not one part of the conference planning, it's another. On stepping outside, I heard a rushing noise, sort of like any one of the following:
* Niagara Falls at a distance of a quarter-mile or so
* A jet engine, slightly closer
* About a hundred distant and terrifyingly in-sync jackhammers
* A white noise generator, turned way up

It was a lovely day, though, so Purple's lunch table was out in the courtyard. It was such a nice day that Purple expressed the desire to sit on top of a mountain for a while. His not!boyfriend apparently gets tired of nature very quickly, and the concept "Is that all there is, just all these trees and this lake?" was floated, to much hilarity. So that was the main topic of conversation for a while.

Eventually someone mentioned the noise, and maybe walking down to see what was going on with it. Some people hadn't even noticed the noise (cue incredulity from the rest of the table).

The 1pm meeting was something to which I was able to contribute constructively. A note to all would-be presenters: I don't care if it's "just" five dozen pens, if you don't tell the logistics person about it, it's not going to happen. I am likewise vaguely unimpressed with the attempt to add a poster session without explicitly telling me what the plans are.

Following that was the team meeting, featuring some guy who canceled twice before being able to make it finally. The meeting was punctuated with 10 minutes of rapid-fire buzzing from my watch, in which the helldesk software dumped "an offensive load" of quadruplicate stale notifications into my inbox. I was Not Best Pleased.

I returned to find that radius had proposed a milkshake run. He and Purple converged on my cube, and we stomped up towards the milkshake dungeon.

Helldesk wasn't the only thing which was dumping: it turned out that the roaring sound was the local gas company venting some of their pipes, in either reaction to, or preparation for, something. We started out discussing that. And while I was a little caught up in my own bubble for it to register, Purple greeted someone he knew who passed us on the sidewalk.

One of the reasons I was caught up in my own bubble was that possibly while this was going on, I had caught sight of one of the security guards coming down the path that we were about to go up. Ordinarily this would be unexceptionable, except that this was the guy who I am actively avoiding. Since radius and Purple were already talking a mile a minute, and we'd scrunched ourselves into a somewhat more path-friendly configuration, they walked slightly ahead while I walked behind between them. I was aware that they were essentially in forward bodyguard position, and I looked Pointedly Elsewhere as the guy passed, although he was talking somewhat loudly on a headset.

This occasioned (also somewhat loud and probably audible to the guy as we passed) commentary from radius and Purple, about not super sensitive of mental health issues )

The sight of ravens on the upper cafeteria led radius to explain about the difference between North American crows and Australian crows: the Aussie crows are much, much ruder. That naturally led into a discussion of Craig Ferguson's flag-mouthed profanity replacement.

The guys aren't used to the vagaries of the elevator in this building. It's a double-sided elevator, with one door leading inside and one leading outside. We typically enter the elevator from the outside and exit from the inside door in the basement. In order that the rear door button works, however, requires a badge swipe. Generally I operate the thing, since I'm used to it, but Purple was closer this time.

We queued up to get our various ice creams. I'd neglected to take my lactose pills before stomping out the door, which situation I usually address by getting the lactose-free sorbets (lemon and strawberry are my favorites, though there are others I really enjoy too) but the chocolate and the vanilla looked very good. I comforted myself with the plan that I would eat them slowly and then take the pills when I got back to my desk.

Purple greeted someone. "So this is why you were in such a hurry!" he said, or words to that effect. Apparently there was some reason or other, but one of the things was that he was going in search of those little oatmeal cookies that are said to be in the break rooms, but in practice nearly never are (except in the Building of Conference Rooms) (except when they've been overrun with conferences). Stymied in his pursuit of cookies, he came for ice cream instead. Purple was amused.

We went outside to sit for a bit. There is asbestos in these here buildings. California law is at pains to let us know about it, and all of the main entrances have this very long URL on the windows, which presumably people are supposed to type in by hand. We comment on it basically every other time we see it. This time we got mired in server response codes. Then we walked back.

I popped in to see Madam Standards, and we wound up going over some of the party details together. She did a lot last year with the Commandant; this year she's heading up the party committee. She knows basically what she's doing, but appreciates cross-checking, especially when I tease out aspects of her ideas which she hadn't really considered. This one: a simple socializing hack using candy dishes.

Mr. Zune had shared the information about the llamas, and soon the dress also hit [off-topic].

My battle re: helldesk was interrupted by Researcher Carmageddon with actual research-related tasks for me. Hooray! So I did that, and then it was time to go home.

Purple walked me out as per usual. Since I've been a bit less steady on my feet these days than is quite normal for me (the extra steps may be getting to my knees) he has taken to walking with me to my car when I'm parked further out, just in case I need steadying (and because when we chat, that means I can lean on Vash). "Where are you?" he asked, when a quick peer around the parking lot did not yield the correct little white car. I was in the same column, just way down near the end, behind the van blocking our view. By this time, the Jeep was long gone, but the silver Lexus SUV was still there, still on over the line.

Purple was merrily talking smack about the parking job when the vehicle beeped. He peered around the thing to see someone approaching. "Oh hey," he said, to someone he obviously knew. Awkward! "He was the guy who passed us on the way up for milkshakes," he explained to me after the guy whizzed out of the parking lot. (It was the hour of departures, as a little white car across the way left within the same 30 seconds, and the van which had been blocking line of sight from Purple's car left within a few minutes also.) I shared my blueberries (I'd guessed wrong; I thought he didn't like blueberries, but it turns out it's pomegranates that he's not pleased with; generally he is in favor of fresh fruit) and we talked about surreal video game plots.

After not too long we headed off.

Still no update on the launderizer situation. I keep expecting to come home to find some sort of missive, but it has not transpired. On the up side, this is motivation to not let my housekeeping slip much during the week.

I was tired enough to go to bed without a formal writeup, though I had contemplated the idea of attempting to explain my day from my phone in bed. It turned out my tiredness had other ideas.
azurelunatic: California poppies. (California girl)
Dragged in to work later than I thought I might, from when I woke up.

Helldesk is helldesk.

Lunch with Purple was fun; there's a new high-level dev who had joined the table, and was going on at some length about C++. Also his two months in India as a white guy (to a >50% Indian lunch table; Purple and Lennon Glasses Guy and I were the other <50%). It was entertaining as someone who's never been; from the reactions of the rest of the table, it was thigh-slappingly hysterical to a local.

Sat down with Madam Standards and talked about the party.

Sat down with the computer and swore a lot.

Then there was a guest speaker. I walked there with Purple. Mr. Zune joined us. The speaker was hilarious, and I only spilled a little lemonade on Purple & Mr. Zune.

Purple zipped out of work fast enough to forget to sign out of IM, which was a little surreal.

Helldesk may be granting me helpdesk-type privs, since my duties include keeping an eye on teammates' stuff. If that happens, I shall offer my services to #VirtualH.

I scrammed out early-ish, hit Costco for dinner fixings, then holed up at home. It took much too long to untangle my hair. No washer-fixing yet. I did fix my connection to #adventuresofstnono via the bouncer rather than direct.
azurelunatic: Azz and best friend grabbing each other's noses.  (Default)
Today I learned that in some localities, "mutton" means "this is a goat but we're calling it mutton anyway". I was the next person to join the table, making it two against two. One of the other two turned to Google.

Lunch finished up pretty quickly. I drifted by the table of Madam Standards, Non-Boring Manager, and Knives (the sarcastic visual designer). The Non-Boring Manager teased me a bit about whether I recognized him yet. I recognize his hat, but I get confused when I don't see the moustache. I then had to tell the story about that time when I didn't recognize "some woman" on the airplane headed to the family reunion. (My two years younger sister, who I'd last seen two years earlier, in different glasses.) My faceblindness cred is established.

Mr. Zune had a thing to show me. It was a classroom pointer with an orange foam hand with a pointer finger at the end. It is the best new thing in his life. He is pointing at all sorts of things with it. We were giggling helplessly. I told him a true thing to make him giggle harder.

There is a person in my life whose workplace has been having a plague with things like:

Speaker-to-Customers (to customer): Oh yes! Our dev has already implemented the thing!
Speaker-to-Customers (to dev): Sooooo I told the customer you'd already done this. You can get it done, right?
Dev: You owe me.

Speaker-to-Customers (to customer): Yeaaaahhhhh our dev fucked that up.
Speaker-to-Customers (to dev): So I fucked that up and I told the customer you fucked that up.
Dev: You're lucky that defenestration technically counts as murder, which is illegal in this state, because the window is right there.

Fortunately, when a person who appreciates such things gets the opportunity to enjoy a good solid flogging, this puts that person in a generally better frame of mind. And so, with this lead-up, when I whispered "The beatings should continue so morale remains improved," in Mr. Zune's ear, we collectively lost it giggling.

The Stage Manager had told us that he would be out of his office due to a thing involving customers, hosted by some of the same people who used to be in charge of the customer group that came to the erstwhile early Thursday monthly meetings. As he was telling Carmageddon, apparently it was a clusterfuck in terms of internal organization. He went into precise detail, and yeah, that's one of the ways a clusterfuck looks.

As a consolation, I sent him which I thought would appeal. It did.

I nearly cried on the phone to helpdesk today, as I discovered a new and fascinating way in which a lack of horizontal scroll bar is fucking things up. The ticket is being escalated. I told the helpdesk lady (in deep frustration) that the helpdesk software was garbage, and then clarified that no, the helpdesk people are just fine (I may have been exaggerating) but the software is garbage and should be discarded. They are likewise frustrated. I thanked her for putting up with me.

I stomped off for milkshake. I was then joined (entirely through having seen me in passing) by lb, and (due to lb making faces at him through the window once he walked back in to his office) by Purple, and then (because he was biking in to work very late) by radius. The Angry Tattooed Man walked past also. lb's Overlady has had contact with the new people in charge of the helldesk software, and lb had thoughts and she agreed with them. radius had to be in the office today because tomorrow he's going up into the city to pay a visit to [personal profile] zorkian's office, though it's a large enough office that they may not come within pool-noodle-waving distance of each other. Also, "Neverland Ranch" is an unfortunate theme for a photo booth. One of the chairs was coming loose from its moorings, and was rusty. I filed a ticket. lb was having trouble staying upright while lounging in one of the chairs. I suggested he could superglue sand to his pants, the chair, or both. Then all he'd need would be WD-40. radius has made his mark on campus quite literally, due to the lack of warning signage the last time the lower parking lot was resurfaced. He'd thought something looked different in the gathering dusk, and realized a short ways before the zone: no lines! Fresh tar! So he braked, and only encroached his front wheel a few feet on the zone. It'll be there until the next time they resurface, just a little discontinuity.

Tiny Plaid Dude, who shares a first name with Haystack and has, like, size eleven enthusiasm in size five shoes, has proposed that there be a poster session during the conference during Madam Standards' party. I have expressed the following opinions:

To Tiny Plaid Dude, the suggestion that he discuss this with the party committee.
To Madam Standards, a heads-up that this proposition has been made, and a counter-suggestion that it would go super-much better during happy hour the following evening. Madam Standards is on board with that.

I tactfully asked Madam Standards whether there was any particular reason she had picked the Neverland photo booth out of the available photo booth options. It had been pretty much an ass-pull, so I have some counter-proposals. I am preparing a spreadsheet.

Things I am also preparing: site maps with dimensions, outlet locations, and other salient points so Madam Standards and the party committee can plot to their hearts' content. Later, we may have some tiny paper pieces to shove around to lay out furniture and stuff.

Purple called time before I did, this time, and we strolled out. We chatted about the general concept of comedians having to blunt their acts for a corporate audience, and how that might work in a specific case. Among, I'm sure, other things, but we were both ready to head home after not that much time.

I realized that I'd left my headset on my desk, but I do have a spare at home. I plugged the iPod into the tape deck adapter, after the headset in the car was flaky. I was early enough (just barely, and by taking 280 all the way rather than 35 along the ridge) to refuel. It's always easier at night, so I am planning to do that when possible. Saves time. Saves stress on me.

The washer now has zero things on top of it, so when the guy(s) come to check it out, it should be no problem for them. Also I laid out tomorrow's outfit and got laundry sorted and hung up. And made my step count via bouncy-ball. And am getting significant inroads on tomorrow's (I just hit 1/4). Last night I did quite a few dishes and trimmed my bangs. I'm not sure where the sudden burst of productivity is coming from, but I shan't argue with it.
azurelunatic: Azz and best friend grabbing each other's noses.  (Default)
00:31 Sunday, 22 February, 2015
While Purple and I were hanging out in the parking lot the other night, we mentioned that we hadn't heard owls in a while. Immediately thereafter, there was a screech. Owls.

00:10 Tuesday, 24 February, 2015
Heard back from the place where I applied. I don't know if there are any other blockers, but I would need the raise before they could accept me. Agh. (My 1:1 for tomorrow is canceled on account of the flu, on the part of my manager.)

This morning was canceled for me, on account of allergies. I woke up before my alarm in an amazing state of allergy snot. I took a claritin and washed out my nose, but it took a while to actually be able to sleep. When I did wake up, it was afternoon.

I grabbed some lunch and came in, and headed up for milkshake at the appointed time (as soon as I looked at Purple's IM status to ask him if he was heading soon, and saw that he'd been idle for five) and it was good. I wound up walking up with my administrative friend, There was shirt color silliness, as everyone when I arrived was not matching. Purple was maroon, lb was purple, I was (per usual) black. When Mr. Zune arrived, he was green. "So what color shirt is radius wearing today?" we greeted him.

This was an unusual enough greeting to make him threaten to leave us, but after we "explained" (that we were being nonsensical), he guessed black. lb guessed orange (as he is vaguely aware that radius owns an orange shirt). When radius arrived, I said, "You're right!" to Mr. Zune. The shirt was in fact darkish grey. "Light black?" someone said. It was a bit of a running joke that afternoon.

Australia is, in fact, trying to kill everyone. phone's train was canceled on account of it was hit by lightning. We made radius attempt to explain these things to us.

Later, there was a different, and sadder, kind of train problem closer to home. When Caltrain meets a vehicle on the tracks, nobody wins, but physics favors Caltrain. Twitter tells me that two people died, one in the first collision and another in a subsequent one.

Conference planning continues.
Research planning continues.
Evaluation of the potential new tool continues.
The people responsible for the helldesk tool will get back to me about two questions I have had.
Closing a window did not fix the weird howling fan problem audible from radius's office.
The mood lighting in radius and Purple's building's bathroom has been fixed.

Five years -- nearly six, now -- is a long time. Fishie doesn't fully remember those early days anymore, so it's part of my duty as a fishmum to point out some of the changes I've noticed between then and now, and what I think of them. I am so, so proud of her.

Purple had some last-minute stuff for an internal papers thing, and I was on the point of grabbing one of his favorite candies and heading over to his building to say goodnight and I was going the hell home, when he finished up, and we wound up in the chilly parking lot.

I saw a meteor, but by the time he turned around, it had gone from a green-white streak into a collection of orange sparks and vanished.

We laughed about cats and hens and dogs and terrible/hilarious tv shows, then headed off for dinner and home.
azurelunatic: Operation 'This will most likely end badly' is a go. (end badly)

So some student-led class at one of my charming local universities has decided to teach fanfiction. This has come to the attention of my circles courtesy of a torrent of really obnoxiously critical comments left on a few select fics.

As an author, one does take on certain risks when posting anything in public online. However, solicitation of people to go and post shitty things in someone else's space is a dick move. I also think that we can agree that college students who have not mastered constructive criticism are highly likely to say shitty things in the attempt to engage critically. Furthermore, some (not all, but quite a few) fannish spaces have a convention of saying the nice things in the author's space in public, and either sending critical things in private, putting them in your own space, or just not saying them at all (at least in connection to the author) unless the author has asked for it.

If you're trying to interact helpfully with fandom and you send a torrent of kids who have been instructed to be "critical" and are likely to poke their thumb in someone's eye by accident while doing so into a fannish space, you, honorable sentient, are being a dick.

1) Don't require your students to leave a comment. If you need to prove they've interacted with the fic, require them to leave kudos.

2) Instruct them to be good citizens when leaving comments, if they leave comments at all. As academics, you are guests in fandom. As the fandom guide of people who have not internalized fandom mores, you have the responsibility to tell the students about things like this, and what sorts of things are unacceptable in this culture. Don't be a shitbrick.

3) By all means, have them interact critically with the text. Require them to either make their own space -- livejournal, dreamwidth, tumblr, blogspot, facebook -- and post the criticism there, post it to an online space reserved for the class, or send it directly to the instructor. Having your students leave it as a comment is like taking all the critical freshman essays on Moby-Dick/Finnegans Wake/The Fountainhead and packing them up into a tidy bundle and sending them to Herman Melville/James Joyce/Ayn Rand, marked "IMPORTANT FEEDBACK - PLEASE READ". Except those authors are actually dead.
azurelunatic: Prayer to the Bastard from Lois McMaster Bujold's Paladin of Souls (bastard)
It was an early lunch day for Purple (as he is filling in for some teammates who are out-of-state, because somebody's got to teach the class), so I had lunch with bits of my team. That was fun; the Stage Manager's company in particular is great. (Later I sent him a link to a particularly sarcastic coffee cup I thought would be up his alley. It was.)

It turns out that not including the things of other people's which I'm keeping a side-eye on, I have 95 tickets in the new helldesk system which are in a non-closed state. I know this because the first page is 100 items, and I sorted by status. Closed falls to the bottom. There were 5 closed tickets on the first page.

Beer bash was Lunar New Year themed. There is always a big celebration, with costumes, dancing, music, and a general good time had by all. I walked down with Purple and some of the guys. radius joined us briefly. The guy on the emergency team stopped by to chat. My friend over thattaway said hello, as did one of her teammates, the tall soft-spoken gamerdude. Lennon Glasses Guy showed up.

Eventually as things cleared out, I spotted that one of the benches had cleared. I claimed it in the name of ... well, myself, I guess. Purple and Lennon Glasses Guy followed. The Dean wandered over. He always does so much for these things. I hugged him enthusiastically enough that his sneakers cleared the ground by maybe a foot. We talked about movie night plans. As he bounced off through the crowd like a pinball, I could hear in his wake one of his people start explaining the premise of "Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep" to the other. Heh.

As Purple and I walked back, the newest member of my team waved at me. I waved back. Then she waved again, possibly at Purple, who had been teaching a session of Hella New Graduate Bootcamp which she'd shown interest in, but since there is not much on that thing for a front end person to do, he had regretfully told her same. (As stringing your front-end people along often offends.)

The sunset was beautiful. We stared up at the sky for a while. Unfortunately, I should not have been attempting to move while staring up at the sky, and my equilibrium informed me that I would be sitting down with some immediacy. Fortunately, there was a bench right there. I maneuvered over to it and sat down with very little ceremony. Purple had been under the impression that my descent was far less well-piloted than it actually was, and had been impressed that I had navigated backwards with that amount of accuracy while minus that amount of balance. We waited for a bit, and looked at the excellent sliver of a moon and Venus nearby.

There were various things which needed wrapping up. I came back to discover that someone, possibly the Stage Manager, had turned off the Beacon. It was, after all, the weekend, and while my enigmatic whiteboard declared that I had not yet left, my cube did look somewhat like I was gone. So when Purple came to walk out with me later, there was nothing left for him to turn off.

I'd asked Purple what his time to leave looked like, and let him know that despite the delicious food at the party, I was going to be ravenously hungry in about an hour and a half. He wasn't, and had already declined dinner. So we had nowhere in particular to go. In the parking lot, we chatted of many things!

It's lovely to be having more grown-up conversations with the fishie. Sometimes this results in swearing about fishie's mother to Purple. Tonight I'd explained to fishie my thoughts on body-birth as applies to me. I was twenty when I resolved the thing which had me determined to never have a child. Absent that,I would be willing to consider the possibility with the right partner who was actively interested in children, given the following caveats: Read more... ). But other than those little issues! So I rehashed that to Purple, and then we got on gender and how both of us had basically infinitesimal amounts of gender-role-policing at home (and then I entered public school). And the gender of inanimate objects. And that scene in Something About Mary, and how actually hair gel? Often kinda crusty when it dries, if it's bad hair gel. And Doing Polyamory Wrong and how toothpaste is better than hotsauce for certain obnoxious applications.

If I'm not lucky, the dudes will come to look at my launderizer while I'm asleep. This is a matter of unluckiness because knocking on my door is a great way to wake me up in a panic. Fortunately, the vast majority of my pajamas are things that I can answer the door while wearing.

I'm still apartment-stressing a bit. Purple asked innocently whether roommates were an option, and oh lord the baggage that unloaded. (Long story very short: I'm not really friends with my last ex-roommates anymore, and I'm pretty convinced that the greater burden of fuckup was on me.) He pulled me over to him and patted me on the shoulder while I stuck my face under his arm like Calico for a bit.

So while we were discussing points about which I am emotionally vulnerable, I told him about the thing I didn't tell him about in front of his not!boyfriend, which involves both a phobia I have and the most likely origin. "So if I suddenly change the topic if [phobia]* comes up, that's why," I told him. Purple immediately apologized for having made me do so in the past, even though to the best of my memory it's been, like, once. He then started attempting to mention that he has a problem (not phobia-level, but a problem) with the same topic; I managed to verbally collide with him, and mentioned that I was aware of the kink for this which exists.

Purple had not heard about this kink.

Purple is generally pretty chill about hearing about the existence of, and general presence in his friends' lives, of sexual practices and/or kinks which he himself has zero to negative interest in experiencing or exploring. (Though there is such a thing as Way Too Much Personal Information.) He does, however, have a list of things where if he hears you are into them, he's not sure he can be friends with you anymore. That list is pretty short. The first two items on the list. ) Those are the main two that he has a moral objection to; most of the rest is more a WHAT NO EWW instant squick reaction from the parts of his brain he doesn't get much of a say over.

That kink has now gone on Purple's OMFG NO list.

* I'm not naming what exactly it is in public for a couple reasons. Read more... )

That had got us off emotional vulnerability into hilarious directions, and we got into our cars. (Purple hit himself in the shin with his car door, occasioning some swearing.) I was starting Vash up when I saw Purple stop and get out of his car. So I turned Vash off and kept him company while he re-inflated his tire. He's been having some car-stress, and the tire's been the tip of the iceberg. Woe.

I was only about an hour off on my estimation, because we'd been hanging out chatting in the parking lot so long. I dropped in the grocery store for bread and eggs and a bit of produce, because I had enough energy to cook. And lo, it was good, and there are leftovers for morning.
azurelunatic: California poppies. (poppies)
21:42 Saturday, 14 February, 2015
Cleaning for packing prep and inspection on Tuesday.

13:40 Sunday, 15 February, 2015
Every time I get space cleared on the bookshelf via packing, it seems like I find more hidden books.

01:55 Thursday, 19 February, 2015
Did the kitchen floor, so that'll be Different And Cleaner when inspection-time today-afternoon. Hrmf.

22:50 Thursday, 19 February, 2015
So today was second-scheduled-inspection (the scheduling was posted before first-inspection). No notes related to that, and things are Visibly More Tidy from Tuesday.

However, related I think to the "investor" part of the Investor Inspections, I did get an email saying that HEY GUESS WHAAAAAT, rent goes up in May.

Therefore I submitted my application for the place I toured tonight, via internet, with a follow-up note to the lady I toured with, saying that even though I don't have the raise I was hoping for just yet, I'm applying anyway because rent here for a fucking studio is going to be more than rent there for a one-bedroom. Fuck-a-doodle-doo.

I was planning to get in early to help the guy who's organizing the content for my team's little conference. Sleep did not work out so well in the "early" part of this description. I got in a little earlier than usual, though.

The task was to send out the call for proposals. First was the email; I suggested a few extra people who should know, and helped locate some guy with a fearfully WASP first name who was in charge of a department and pretty much unsearchable unless you already knew who he was. Then we did not!Facebook. I tweaked some settings, showed him what to pick and where to put it, and weeee're off! I got to lunch only 5 minutes after I planned.

The person doing the sandwich station was also the person doing salad, and gave me a green salad without red peppers. Score! I sat down with my team. Half of the group left after a bit. After another bit, I joined Purple's group, who had settled at the next table over.

We both had Things to Do after lunch. Purple's was a bit after mine. Both involved going uphill. I took a shuttle there. He, apparently, walked.

Met with the lady from Events, the Commandant, and Madam Standards to look over the venue again. We exchanged various information and had a lot of questions. A return visit with better maps and my tape measure will doubtless ensue. My teammates and I walked back together. I pointed out somewhat firmly that I Could Not Do Those Stairs, and we took the elevator.

By that time it was nigh unto Milkshake O'Clock. radius met me at the Near Site. It was in fact not milkshake o'clock, as there was a Large Management Event going on in the cafeteria, and it was not a time for blender-related operations. So we took our unblended ice cream outside to the fire pit, where we chilled happily.

Just as I was busily filing a ticket from my phone, a looming shape carrying a laptop bag and a red shirt approached and plopped down in a chair across the fire pit from me. Purple had seen us hanging around and decided to join. I filed my own ticket, then started filing radius's ticket about lights out in a downstairs men's room. radius then got up and went into the building to confirm that it wasn't just a case of the lights being switched off. Purple promptly informed me that I was helpful like a ferret in a bowlful of packing peanuts.

Purple's day had included not one round trip up the hill, but two: the computer situation there had been dire, so he zoomed back to fetch his laptop. He was Somewhat Put Out at the reality of two trips, as he is not used to this. (Meanwhile, my stamina is building up to the point where that might actually not completely destroy me. Yay, stamina!)

After some nice chat, we split back to our respective desks.

There was some good news about Borderlands Books. Why yes, I do enjoy the concept of a reserved seat at various [ profile] seanan_mcguire events!! I became happy that I have taken to carrying my checkbook around.

Purple pinged me while I was almost still going strong. We walked out and Purple dumped his laptop in his trunk and then escorted me to Vash. I told him a mildly explicit story about the time Shawn almost kissed me. And I put the pieces together about how I wasn't allowed opinions around Shawn, and how despite our chemistry in other respects, also mildly explicit ). Subsequent lovers demonstrated that The Problem Was Not Exactly Me. Apparently it works better when I'm allowed opinions.

I nearly started crying in the parking lot.

Before that happened, though, we were hailed, and The Other Guy barged across the parking lot, and we spent some enjoyable minutes cursing about the travails of trying to maintain php created by Those Guys (as opposed to Us).

I got my hug and came home, via Costco gas. Now I am trying to increment my step count via my abs. I have filed that ticket about my launderizer, and told Purple. His turn to address that tire. <3
azurelunatic: Azz and best friend grabbing each other's noses.  (Default)
Apartment remains cluttered but Less Dire. Attempted to get up at a vaguely diurnal time. It didn't happen. Went to work. Noticed that my friend the Singing Project Manager had dropped off one of her spare ice packs with me. (She'd advertised on [off-topic], because she gets one of those recipe subscription things, and they come with hella ice packs.)

Purple had the thing he was doing with new hires, so I dragged lunch back to my desk. I poked at conference stuff. My manager had questions about some equipment ordering, and dispatched me to go talk to our desktop support guys and ask how exactly the best (for them, since they get the brunt) way is to order a hella number of equipment. I detoured by the desk of the Singing PM and gave her some chocolate. She said if [off-topic] hadn't claimed the rest of the ice packs by the end of the day, she'd leave them with me. Local helpdesk was not in. I dropped some diplomacy off with Mr. Zune, and agreed on a time for milkshake.

I came back to #cupcake to see:
(14:31) radius: [local cafeteria] milkshakescapade at 2:40-ish?
(14:36) radius: Maybe that was not sufficient advance notice... 3:00ish instead?
(14:37) zune: 3ish sounds good to me
(14:37) ajl: 3ish was the time I proposed to zune, so sounds good to me also

radius joined us, and we soaked up a bit of sun, then went to see whether the new couch in the quiet room had been cleaned. However, there was someone being quiet in there (on something with a bright screen) so we detoured to the pinball room instead. Mr. Zune played a round of pinball, and radius and I demonstrated our mutual incompetence at foosball. We didn't keep score. The game was eventually called on account of me collapsing against the wall in giggles.

Couch. )

The quiet room was empty, so we poked our heads in. The stain is still visible, but less visible. radius tested whether it was him-sized (he is hella tall). It was! Instead of napping, though, he let me in on the method of getting up to the mail room ceilings (counter-scrambling at dawn).

(15:09) pkeeper: heee
(16:19) ***ajl eyes pkeeper
(16:19) ***ajl proposed milkshake, not propositioned marriage :-P
(16:21) pkeeper: well, unless his GF is REALLY open minded, I kinda
figured out what you meant
(16:23) ***ajl isn't looking for that level of committment at the moment
(16:29) pkeeper: that said I don't want to venture what a milkshake proposal might be a euphemism for...
(16:29) ***ajl whacks in pkeeper's general direction with a pool noodles
(16:29) zune: oh my...
(16:30) ***radius waves a crayfish.

Conference stuff is poised on the edge of the call-for-papers, and the flurry associated therewith. I tripped over a bit of Slack UI weirdness and dutifully reported it to their people. Since "their people" and the set of people allowed to read my locked stuff has a slight intersection, while the account is in my workname, I signed it, "Love, Azure Jane L." in the hopes that if the intersection did hit, it would be a friendly little cupcake moment. I also sent a somewhat more exasperated request-for-improvement to not!Facebook, because I'd just run into a thing which didn't work on mobile. Pro tip: when your fucking dialog overflows the goddamn edge of the motherfucking screen, it helps absolute none when you can neither scroll nor fucking resize. I figured I'd just rotate the screen. It was still too goddamn wide. Snotfuckers. I ran into that bit while eating ice cream in the courtyard, and my sudden explosion of profanity clued Mr. Zune and radius into the likelihood that either there was an email from somewhere in the depths of the helldesk, or I'd run into another fine little bug.

Earlier in the day, Researcher Sweatervest had sent out a New Year's email announcing that he'd left honey dates on the collaboration table, with many pictures of ... rams? goats? sheep? and general celebratory sentiments. The actual leaving of dates was somewhat more afternoon-ish. One of the designers had been sad about missing the dates when she hadn't seen any earlier, so I brought one for her. She traded me for huckleberry saltwater taffy. I saved one for Purple.

Outlook Web Access and Firefox are not getting along. Specifically, when you put deliberate whitespace in an email, OWA + Firefox don't let you, instead of going along with the whole non-breaking-space idea or whatever. The fix is some back-end thing that has to be applied to the server. Earlier this week, I came back and found that the mofo had been closed. I re-opened it and requested that we be given insight to whatever it is that they're using to track the issue. Yesterday I called and asked for an update and to be added as a watcher. This morning, I found they'd closed the mofo again. radius said this afternoon that it was open. I looked and it was still closed. Turns out, the parent ticket was closed while the second child incident was open. I called the helpdesk to find out what the ever-loving *fuck*. I was not especially convinced that the helpdesk guy's claims that the closure of the containing unit would leave the internal items in a state to be acted on, as it had the distinct sound of this-fact-i-just-made-up. But it was re-opened, so that was good.

You can add custom emoji to your Slack instance. One of the guys has already added Kool-Aid Man. I was looking for pictures relevant to pool noodles when I ran into something that I couldn't emojify, but that did make me laugh for longer than 15 seconds, and made me feel all warm inside. I'm part of a community. Then I had to explain "LART" to Purple.

The Singing PM came by with the unclaimed ice packs. Unfortunately, one of them was sliced. I'd just cleaned up the leaking gel from a hole poked into the first one (and patched it with packing tape). The new one got a glorious mess of gel all over, and after disposing of it, we repaired to the bathroom to get it off us, our clothes, and her scissors. I reported back to IRC that ice packs were the new couchbuttering.

Someone has driven some sort of power lift inside the building. Apparently there's about 2-3" of clearance for it to get through the double doors, and you have to tear down a cube or two to get it inside. It was a topic of discussion on [off-topic], so Lennon Glasses Guy and I went to see it. Later, I came back to take pictures for posterity. It's not every day, etc. etc.

Lift. )

It felt like a Thursday, even though it was the Wednesday of a week shortened on the front end. Purple walked me out as per usual. He walked me all the way to my car, as my knees and ankle were all feeling somewhat poorly. There was silliness, including South Park on plastic surgery, some inadvisable forms of counterweight bra, and some relatively serious breast reduction chatter.

I was short on laundry, so I put it in despite wanting to make a relatively early night of it. Then I vacuumed and tidied a little bit more, both while the laundry was going and after. Soon, it will be time for showering and snoozing, and then see what time I can get up in the morning.
azurelunatic: Cover of O'Reilly's Owl Book. O RLY?  (O RLY)

Saturday, I drove down to Sunnyvale and toured an apartment complex. I liked it. We'll see if/when my raise comes through. (Purple says that on this one, I'm a dude.)

Vash gave me a bit of trouble on the way back, so I should see about getting him checked out.

So on Saturday, everybody got a note through the door that "investor inspections" were imminent. So much of the rest of my long weekend was either housework, or fervently ignoring housework. I am not Actively Displeased with the current state of the apartment, however I am not Pleased either. The packing has been making this easier, and I suppose the cleaning has helped the packing.

Got a message from the Commandant that she was out sick, and I should take point on this morning's meeting. Okay! So I did some last laundry-roundup and vacuuming, and went off to work in good time to walk up to the secret milkshake bunker, saying hi to Purple on my way as he was coming in. He was in search of Beldorion. I thought I vaguely knew where he sat, but I was at the wrong end of the wrong floor of the wrong building. (Purple was able to find him okay, though.) The heavy equipment I'd seen at the end of the parking lot turned out to be unloading a whole bunch of trees; they looked like small redwoods in large wooden planters.

The Dean is ringleading the playing of a cricket tournament on the big screen. It turns out that none of the cable networks that we get seem to be running it, but there's an online thing. Some of the guys waxed enthusiastic. Yay for them.

The meeting went well! We have a better idea of what we're looking for this year, and some of last year's cracktastic experiments won't be repeated. I mentioned some of the constraints, like gluten-free, and that cut out Hawaiian as a theme, as all their soy sauce has lurking wheat. Partway through the meeting, the lady from catering spluttered and pointed out the window. For all the world like a tall ship under full sail, the top half of a redwood cruised by smoothly. For a brief fantastic moment I thought: Wow, it must be windy out today. Then, as the forklift emerged from behind the wall, the absurdity of the thought struck me. Another two redwoods followed it, to our collective giggles. We called our attention back to the task at hand, and got into logistics and table rental. We shall inquire to see whether there are cafe tables which can be pulled from storage before we see about rentals. From around the corner coming the other direction scuttled one of those same redwoods, beating a hasty retreat from who knows what ent-eater.

On the way back, I wound up telling Madam Standards about the time Shawn tried to make mac-and-cheese.

Purple sent out the lunch ping. Just then, one of the engineers who had through main force of will not screamed about the helldesk software on the You Must Be At Least This High In The Org Chart For This Ride field trip, had a question about how one shipped things. I had answers! I wound up creating a shipping ticket for him, and he jumped through the hoops to get his own login, as he sees himself shipping in the future. This did render me a bit on the late side to lunch, but that was all right.

Mr. Zune: "Is someone else about to be introduced to the Sticky Box?"

I left the shipping ticket on top of the Sticky Box for the engineer to find if he came back before I did.

My choice of food includes prep/waiting time as well as content, so it was the wok for me, even though that would result in picking out hot and cold peppers. There was a seat next to Purple, which I happily claimed. I grumbled about the housecleaning and apartment search some. I had a fantastic headache by that time. Purple told tales of one apartment he'd moved out of, where the place was going to be demolished after he left. The guys had told him he could "have fun", but he'd been too exhausted from moving to do anything entertaining like write on the wall in something that looked like human blood. Somehow this resulted in escalating jokes, with a live goat tethered (with food and water) in the middle of a salt pentagram ("Oh, I would have thought the sacrifice would have been accepted by now!"). Purple joked about using glitter in spells, and I started giggling. That made my head pound. "Oh god, I shouldn't be laughing," I said. Purple patted me on the back and allowed how he possibly shouldn't have been joking about that either. "No no, it's that I have a headache," I wheezed. Then I told him about a certain infamous writer of spellbooks who suggested glitter as a substitute for candles. Not to represent fire, but as a focus object. "So that's why you have a disco ball!" he declared. I mentioned that I might have possibly unnerved people in the past with the giant Christmas light pentagram on my ceiling in college. Heh.

The engineer had picked up the shipping ticket by the time I got back, and mentioned that my cube is certainly unique.

Lunch and lack of sleep and stress and dehydration seem to have been the headache, because post-lunch, caffeine, hydration, and giggles put me pretty much right.

Mid-afternoon, I looked out the window at just the right moment and saw two heads, one golden and one dark-with-a-bald-patch, walking past. It was clearly lb and Purple, going in the general direction of the milkshake bunker, walking fast. I had a quiet Moment -- a pang of left-out, and a swell of happiness that they were getting friend-time that they clearly needed to have. The happiness won, but not without a little bittersweet thread. But I don't have to be part of everything. In fact, I probably have more than my fair share of Purple's time. I can't begrudge another of his good friends some alone-time, in context of that.

Lennon Glasses Guy showed up for the speakers just as I was heading into my research meeting. I directed him where to find it: loon head, fridge, right next to the fridge. In the research meeting, Researcher Carmageddon picked my brain about things we'd like to know that I collected as a matter of course when they came up. They will come up with a list and cross-check. It is the time of year that Researcher Sweatervest has become chilly again, so he was wearing one of his namesake sweatervests. This one looked nicer, and new. Polka-Dot is out sick, and Haystack seems to be out of state due to a death in the family, but had called in.

In conference-driven development news, the Dreamwidth development activity makes me happy, and sometime when my hair is not trying to catch figurative fire I need to sit down and go through code tours looking for docs bugs.

Things in the helldesk software keep getting fixed from time to time. Apparently broken attachments had been un-broken. I cruised into the quiet room to assess the state of the stain, which was non-crusty, probably a drink spill. Then I went into my own building's relaxation room, took a picture of the sad little room with its foosball table, and emailed in a ticket suggesting that if an unloved but unbroken couch could be found in storage, this would make the room a little less sad -- both answering an actual need and testing the attachment situation, which seems indeed to have been remedied. (Trust, but verify.)

In clearing through my inbox, I paused and actually read one of the [off-topic] posts that I'd skimmed earlier in the day, and then paused again.

ajl: from [off-topic], regarding a cricket tournament: "We could always streak it from the laptop."
ajl: does some gentleman on [off-topic] feel like making a private reply including ? I feel this is a disambiguation vs. "streaming" which should not come from a lady.
Upon which statement, several corners inquired whether "lady" really applied in this instance.

Purple had a programming situation which eventually turned out to be an unexpected NULL instead of the nice little object the program was expecting. Mommas, don't let your variables grow up to be un-initialized.

I wanted to get one last email finished before going home. It was quick, but Purple still arrived while I was wrapping up, and put out the Beacon and curled up on the nearby couch with his iPad for a few moments. "I should have waited for a reply instead of just coming over, huh," he smiled.

The parking lot saw terrible stories of dudes setting fire to their packages on video, plus other tales of fire and nether regions. (Hint: "I just got a new high-speed camera!" is not a good reason to light a fart. Sometimes, Purple's friends can pull dumbass stunts too.) We chatted through The Aristocrats, my lack of balance and the attendant jazzhands, and that time that I was the person doing the crazy religious ranting on the bus. I'm okay with informational embargo while a hole gets patched, but er. Ahem. Purple was understanding. My knees were not so understanding. His tire still has a nail in it. There was an owl, but only one this time. Perhaps it's in the owl-house, and not a cardboard box? Or perhaps it's in a redwood.

Purple got roped into doing a thing tomorrow and Thursday, so his lunch availability is low. My team probably gets custody of me, then, or maybe I shall join lb's table.

I chatted with Amber on the way home. Home included a relieving lack of paper stuffed in my doorframe.

Tomorrow will be another day. Thursday will be another inspection (announced Monday morning). Bluh.
azurelunatic: Azz and best friend grabbing each other's noses.  (Default)
Got up. Shambled to work.

Lennon Glasses Guy needed external speakers for something. I happened to have some of those, and conscientiously labeled them before dropping them on his desk. It's not that I distrust him, it's that it's company-branded gear at a company awash in same, and I kind of like those little speakers and would prefer that someone not think they were abandoned and pick them up and take them home.

Realized, at length, that it was 12:45 and there should probably be some lunch at some point. Pinged Purple, who went approximately, "OH CRAP!" and sent the lunch call. There were cupcakes with a really nice raspberry buttercream frosting. One of the days this week, I'm not sure which one but not today, involved a guest re-appearance of the Rollercoaster Tycoon. He's just down the street, so he dropped in to pay the non-badged lunch surcharge and hang out with the gang.

The blond bearded whitedude designers of the Monkey House have set up a Slack team for the department, in service of chatting in a more lively fashion while planning the internal conference. I immediately set up RSS integration for the related not!Facebook groups. I shall have to ask them about IRC/XMPP gateway setup.

This week's hallmark of my reviews-of-external-stuff to teammates has been bluntness.
"Maybe we could have pizza?" Madam Standards asked, at the Tuesday meeting that was meant to have been about menus for the conference.
"[catering] pizza is crap," I said, and then looked around in the hopes that nobody from catering had been walking by to overhear me.
"What do you think of [file-sharing software from the Borg]?" the shorter blond bearded whitedude asked me at the Thursday conference meeting.
"Unusable," I said. The reaction around the table indicated that they'd been expecting a much more lengthy and perhaps angry rant.

Someone at lunch also brought up the topic of catering pizza, and Purple and I reacted with horror. Purple started to explain it, but seemed unequal to the description.
"Take some really mediocre yeast rolls, about two inches thick," I started. "Smear a thin layer of pretty terrible tomato sauce on that. On top of that, some crappy pepperoni, and mozzarella--"
"Plastic," Purple added. "It's the stuff that turns to plastic after you heat it."
"And after broiling it for not quite long enough, leave it to sit for 45 minutes before serving," I concluded.

There was some discussion as to whether this was supposed to constitute "deep dish", due to the height of the bread layer. The overwhelming consensus was that it did not.

"Hitchhiker's Guide," Purple said. "Tea."
"YES!" I agreed. "It's like an alien who does not know how to cook described pizza to a robot cook who does not know how to love."

The facilities team has promised to clean the I-believe-it's-probably-not-butter off the new couch in the quiet room. Perhaps when I'm feeling a little more bold, I will inquire if there are any spare couches which could be deployed in my building's rec room. It turns out that sometimes you can get amazing things to happen if you know who to ask for them.

radius inquired after people up for a walk, as he was paying a call on a department somewhat east of the milkshake bunker, in order to collect some hardware in exchange for bugs. (This, in fact, was the event that made me look at the clock and go "oops", lunchwise.) I readied a diplomatic pouch (in the chocolate-based-diplomacy sense) and we wandered off. Notes on technology were exchanged. A lot of his expertise involves some deep file system stuff. I explained the basic concept of Slack. He mentioned that stateful implied deeply integrated logging, and how sometimes the department we had just visited occasionally said things which oughtn't to be on the record, and sometimes logs therefore disappeared. I decided to look into how that worked on Slack.

ajlunatic: also I was chatting with one of the guys and a feature that I don't know if Slack has is, occasionally there are things which get said which ought not to have been said, and should be scrubbed from the logs
talldude: hmm that's a good point
(10 minutes of FAQ-trawling)
ajlunatic: so the answer here is: if you say something which should be unsaid, please promptly unsay it, via the handy little gear.
shortdude: hah yep good policy!

The speakers worked out for Lennon Glasses Guy and his team. He returned them. I showed him my doorbell, as knocking on my cabinet will get my attention, but not actually activate my "this person is here for me" routines. He may borrow the speakers again next week. I gave him directions to find them, should I not be present: in the shelf under the flower-crowned loon head, right next to the refrigerator. Directions within my cube are perhaps not conventional.

I disappeared down the rabbit hole of attempting to figure out externally-facing website possibilities for the conference. The thing that the helpdesk pointed me at looks as though it last had its documentation updated in 2009. I may go yell into the team Slack a bit.

Now that fishie is a grown-up, she is learning that the Fishmum is somewhat more flappable than previously evident. Fishmum does in fact experience anxiety every now and then!

I like the battery capabilities of the new phone case. I do not like the implied bounce-resistance capabilities. I will be sitting down with it and some sugru in the near future. I will also have to meddle with the settings on my watch, as the replacement arrived. I got the watch bands switched over (nylon strap for me, thanks) and got the old face packed up to go in the mail.

Eventually I pinged Purple. ("Ping?") In a tiny relief to that part of me which constantly fears that being left out of one thing is a sign that I will be left out of All The Things and should take that as a signal that I am Not Part Of The Group, without overt prompting he asked if I was good with a particular dinner venue. I displayed caution over the possible V-D clogging-up of same; he figured it would be good. (And, perhaps, may have made a reservation.)

There was wrapping up. We headed out. He arrived first, and managed to score a very near parking spot. I did not score same. I found street parking, then found him inside. I hadn't felt the buzz from his text, but he'd sent a very thoughtful text about his location within the building. I'd just been wandering around looking for his hair.

Ms. Antisocialest Butterfly arrived, at length. She'd had Quite Some Time looking for a parking place. We proceeded to have a lovely dinner. Purple needed a large slab of beef in service of not being anaemic. (Anaemia: the opposite of a super-power, unless wacky magnetic shenanigans are involved.) The phrase "the odds are good, but the goods are odd" as applied to the men of Alaska, does not imply that their second and fourth balls have been eaten by bears. (N.B.: do not request oral sex from bears, unless it's the hairy gaydude sort and you have that sort of relationship.) Purple is still impressed with that conversation in which radius and I managed to not-say some really terribly inappropriate things in IRC.

The bench attempted to eat my badge when I stood up. I am happy that I picked a badge reel which is generally over-engineered for the purpose, because my stuff tends to take quite a beating.

I called [personal profile] amberfox; it's been a while! Phone-based hilarity prompted me to stop at the rest stop in order to call her back after a dead spot dropped the call as I drove through it, and then when she tried calling me, my headset didn't wind up picking up until she'd disconnected.

I am plotting a talk for Open Source Bridge, but so far it's not made it into words.

Tomorrow may involve touring another apartment complex, if I can pry myself out of bed.
azurelunatic: Azz and best friend grabbing each other's noses.  (Default)
I went to sleep at a vaguely sensible time, but made the mistake of checking email when I woke up in the middle of the night and getting back to sleep was not coming easily. There were some shenanigans that involved the helldesk software, and while there was a chance it was user error, it was an equal or greater chance that it was helldesk. That made me spitting mad, but fortunately when I stripped off my nightgown to start getting dressed to stomp into work, my body got the idea and said "actually no, sleep sounds good." So I curled back up in bed and had some very confusing dreams. It was good that I'd refueled the night before, because I zombied in somewhat slower than I'd hoped.

My inbox was not on fire when I got in, so I was able to ping Purple for lunch soonish. He decided to join me in a bit, and the table was large and raucous.

The 13:00 meeting was a bit bikesheddy, and I think that the Commandant is getting a bit overshadowed by Haystack. I think that I will avoid being on committees with Haystack if I can avoid it. (This despite Haystack being Elsewhere at this time.)

Any meeting in which "Are we going to be dropping acid at this event, then?" is a question, is possibly an interesting meeting.

The web crew is learning that the rather obvious-seeming FAQ section on the old website was there for a reason.

The meeting ended, and I traipsed off to cancel the team meeting, as the meeting was going to be a chat with a person from another organization, and he was out sick. So everyone got their hour back.

Lunch had been sort of insufficient, so I pinged #cupcake and wound up doing a milkshake run with radius. We talked computers we have known. He's in the same general age bracket as Purple and Nora, maybe a little older. He has a wicked, wicked sense of humor, and managed once to get a -1 day bluescreen on Windows 95. He remains fighting the good fight about OWA. I showed off some of the building signage that had been going up yesterday. I was not responsible for the budget, but I certainly did kick off the process, and I am proud of that.

The actual tasks of the day didn't stick too far into my head. It felt mostly reactive and inbox-based. Eventually Purple pinged me and I wrapped up around the time he arrived. He picked cinnamon dots to munch on the way out to the parking lot.

Someone had left two of the little oatmeal cookies in a cup on the team table in the morning. By evening, there was only one left. Purple mentioned the only place to really get your hands on them reliably (ground floor of the execs' building) and speculated about the reasons. "Plus no one actually sits on that floor," I pointed out. It's mostly-all conference rooms. Then we speculated about what might be in the executive break kitchen, and I pictured a 7pm R&D raid on said kitchen (after all the execs have gone home).

Any morning where you wake up and take stock of yourself and go "I did not go to sleep wearing this, and I don't even think this is my ball gown!" has got to have been a wild night. Some people wake up after the full moon wearing the shreds of whatever they were wearing when the full moon hit them, or whatever they were wearing to bed that night. Some people have to go only by unexpected bruises and extra hairiness, due to their sensible werewolf pajamas. I started wearing nightengowns again in Arizona after the Night The Ceiling Rained, and other stories involving me popping out the bedroom wearing just a sheet.

Not all ten-year-olds can tackle their dad around his knees and lift him in the air.

Tomorrow will be Friday, a non-bash day.
azurelunatic: Azz and best friend grabbing each other's noses.  (Default)
azurelunatic: Azz and best friend grabbing each other's noses.  (Default)
One of the fun interludes of yesterday afternoon was helping [personal profile] inoru_no_hoshi test whether a headset worked for phone. Yay!

Went to bed early last night, and conked out sometime around midnight. Woke up at my "sensibly early" alarm, which is 9. Even dilly-dallying around, I was still in the office by 10:45, and the lack of any early meeting made me crank through some things. The person acting as release manager for the helldesk software finally got us logins to the piece of software which they have cram-jammed their issue tracking into. Fucking helldesk, including a call to HR. )

The snowed-in guys in MA told me about their hardware. I spent a surprisingly short amount of last night wandering around my corner of the building ogling my team's hardware for administrative purposes. Since Massachusetts is pretty far to wander, I emailed the MA guys directly, if vaguely as to the purpose (I'm doing this under the Acting Director's guidance, and for a purpose, but in case it goes badly I'm trying not to spill the beans, Boston baked or otherwise). One of the guys who share an office and work as a unit told me that his backup drive was possibly on its last leg, making alarming noises. This clearly would not do, so I placed an order immediately. You do not fuck around with things like that, you replace them before you have a data loss incident.

I was feeling fairly productive by the point that I told Purple that tomorrow, I'd be heading to lunch early due to a 13:00 meeting (because conference, because Thursday). Purple promptly said that it wasn't all that early and sent the lunch ping, then realized that I'd said "tomorrow". Heh.

Lunch was pleasant. Purple teased me gently about my sleep schedule, as last night it was almost diurnal-person. One of the guys had discovered that in the early days of cars, people crashed into things all the time. They were used to horses, which have robust anti-collision principles, and cars did not. Though the modern car is changing that. The discussion progressed to some weird places, man. )

further innuendo )

I had a meeting up top the hill with the Dean, about Movie Night. Mr. Sub-tle was still pretty elusive. But I had prepared with a list of all-time best, classic, and cult movies from Rotten Tomatoes, for suggestions for the 2nd instance. The Dean happily claimed those. Additionally, he likes the peppermint & white chocolate truffles.

Since I was going to be up on that end of campus anyway, I had brought a map and a handful of candy intended for people associated with the helldesk software. I'd meant to introduce myself to the person newly in release manager role, but he wasn't at his cube. I left a few things on the side of his desk. Then I went down to the (well-lit, as it was on the low side of the hill) basement with a handful of candy for the senior developer on the project, the sensible fellow we met at the rather terrible meeting in September. He was happy to see me, and happy to hear that I felt there was visible progress. He also does pay special attention when he sees tickets coming in from me. "I was raised in Open Source," I explained. Dear LJ, you brought me up right. I mentioned that I had finally got a login to the bug tracker, so I could do acceptance testing. Release on this one is next week. He did say something about next month's which has me intrigued.

I went to triage my email in the milkshake bunker. Mr. Zune joined me there, and we talked mostly hardware and statistics. Then we walked back.

I then launched myself into the wilds of SFDC. There was, as previously mentioned, swearing. But it went well overall, succeeding in four out of the five tests, and not being any more broken in the fifth test than it is in production already (for apparently unrelated reasons). One of the things I tried to do once I finished my own assignment was to attempt to tackle the ticket of the A-Team Leader, who is one of the not-so-technical administrative assistant types. (I am unusual among Virtual Hammer administrative assistants in that I come from an actual helpdesk and minor dev background.) Unfortunately, it involved triage stuff that my account, even on the testbed, can't apparently do.

My phone battery being horrible, I determined that I should try to get to the phone place before they closed for the night.

I hit step count pretty easily, and while I was moderately sore and took a little blue pill, I was not majorly, tearfully sore. Yay stamina!

Apparently ordering a laptop stand for Rocky was very thoughtful of me. He mentioned craning his neck and squinting at the laptop screen, and one of these problems can be solved with a $30 piece of hardware.

I pinged Purple, and we got out of there very close to a sensible time, I'd just to put a few things on the wiki. We didn't stand around chatting too long in the parking lot, either.

I had a hard time explaining to the guys why an Otterbox was not recommended for this phone at this time -- when you have a phone back that is out of spec with what the Otterbox is expecting by 1-2mm, the Otterbox will not take kindly to this. "It's being flaky," I described to Purple, and showed him the crack and where pieces are literally flaking off of the hard part of the thing.

One of my requirements in a phone case is somewhere to hook a strap. This one is sort of terribly placed, but reasonably secure.

So now I have a new battery and a new backup battery. And it was still early enough that I could get back to the west end of the bay and refuel before Costco gas closed for the night.

And now it is bedtime.
azurelunatic: Azz and best friend grabbing each other's noses.  (Default)
Plan: go to bed in a timely manner, sleep soundly, wake early, drive to work early, see if there's breakfast at the big all-hands.

First contact with the enemy: I can't believe I didn't start that dryerload of laundry, causing at least 45 minutes worth of delay to my bedtime. The rest of the delay is totally on me.

Actual: 3am bedtime. 8:50am alarm. Dialed into the meeting, got dressed, went to work, arrived on-site at the meeting 5 minutes before it ended, too late to slip in any questions sideways, much less a tactfully phrased question that would go something like:

"I'd like to acknowledge all the hard work so many people have done on [helldesk]; with that in mind, I was wondering: how much longer do you think it will be until [helldesk] is usable?"

It was still a bit chilly and morning-y. I saw that Purple was wearing his puffy teal jacket, the one that looks less ridiculously puffy when it's being worn on a morning when you realize that maybe a hat might have been nice. He may or may not have seen me on my way up to the next meeting and his way back to his office.

It turned out that the person from Catering who we were supposed to meet was out of the office due to a sick kid, but the Conference Commandant and Madam Standards and I had a useful conversation!

My phone's battery life has taken a turn for the unfortunate. I should get that looked into.

I gave Madam Standards the version of "my card" with my phone number on it, for handy reference. This does mean she has my full name now, not just Azure.

By lunchtime, I was very hungry, as breakfast had been a random granola bar that I found in the car. I joined Purple and the gang. Among other things, we chattered about police blotters, and an assault using a sandwich and drink. This resulted in a very silly discussion violent humor )

We saw R in passing, in the company of the guy who looks like Obie except less likely to betray you and steal the plans for your power armor.

I showed my admin buddy the more back-end end of the helldesk system, and how to look up tickets in that. It was apparently useful, as he's been having problems including some emails which give you the blank page instead of taking you to your ticket.

I had my 1:1 with my manager. I took notes. There are many things to do. She had a few encouraging statements.

I did things. It turns out that a really easy way to see whether your teammates have Macs or PCs (hardware-wise, at least) is to look at their keyboards. Generally, only the Mac people will have those shiny silver thin things.

I was so very tired and sore by 6. I had also reached my step count, or very near it, by 6. I am wondering if the bumped-up step count is contributing to the soreness, and if so, how much.

Went home at a vaguely reasonable hour. Purple had got in to work substantially earlier than I did, and he was running late for the thing, so he wound up very near the building. I was not quite as near. We didn't chat too horribly long. We hugged, then I just stood there smiling at him. He backed away from the grinning Lunatic, at which point I made a startled and disgruntled sort of noise. "What does that mean in Chicken?" It was, of course, the sort of sound that you make when you're peacefully sitting on the perch and then your sister steps on you while walking over you in order to get a better place in the lineup. (Chicken pecking order is often illustrated in perch order, particularly some of the circular bits.)

Went to bed at a vaguely reasonable hour, without finishing my daily write-up.
azurelunatic: Azz and best friend grabbing each other's noses.  (Default)
azurelunatic: Azz and best friend grabbing each other's noses.  (Default)


azurelunatic: Azz and best friend grabbing each other's noses.  (Default)
Azure Jane Lunatic (Azz - bolt of blue - infovore)

March 2015

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