- Mon, 12:44: Recirculating fountains: water-efficient. Buttwashers on toilets: not. Combining the two: not excellent lunchtable talk. #drought #gross
- Mon, 13:13: "There are spiderwebs on your cow." "It's a bullshit award." "It's a lady bull?"
- Mon, 13:15: Duckies! http://t.co/83x2XXCqnR
- Mon, 17:57: I am not allowed to sort synonyms for breasts in order of offensiveness at work, even to determine how rude Beldorion was at lunch. #rules
- Tue, 01:05: My fitbit #Fitstats_en_US for 7/06/2015: 8,908 steps and 3.8 miles traveled. http://t.co/gFMrr7HEB6
- Tue, 01:11: I break down open source contributions into code, labor, and good vibes. Some improvements are hard to quantify but still count.
- Tue, 04:30: Video: nadyne: New Order covers “San Francisco (Be Sure to Wear Flowers in Your Hair)” by Scott McKenzie http://t.co/z7nwJC4Hv7
- Tue, 10:58: When a friend starts dating someone about whom you have bad vibes, write it down privately. Keep an eye out. Tolerate, don't trust.
( Read more... )
R has been sent the information on where to find #adventuresofstnono. So have Mr. Zune and radius. (Yes, guys, I use an alias for this as well, and now you know where to find it. I started the practice of aliasing obscure/semi-private venues after the Incident where someone showed up uninvited in a different channel which I had mentioned, then never fit in well, angsted in-channel about not fitting in, and I eventually asked them to leave because I dreaded their presence and they were after all uninvited.)
Also leaving this week was one of the newer people on my team, whose wife got a dream job in another country, and (also as announced on not!Facebook) the second-in-command of the helldesk software. No word as to whether she was part of the layoff, or voluntarily heading for
It being Friday and that point in the gas tank, I had to get gas before work, which resulted in a later arrival than would have otherwise been. Lunch was pleasant. It was the Rollercoaster Tycoon's last day (he's heading to a startup). I gave him my card.
A conference call with the vendor for the proposed new software followed. Researcher Haystack appears to have taken point on this one. His queries of the vendor's salesdudes are shaped slightly differently than mine. He's coming to it quite naturally from the perspective of the research utility of the thing; I'm coming at it from the shoving-all-the-things-in-it direction. Some of the things I had questions about had not occurred to him. He looks at the data structure of the Excel export of their template and goes "whaaaaaaaa---!!!" and I look at it and I go "wow, I would not have thought to do it like that, but I can do the thing", and most importantly the current thing we are using does not do the thing.
I still have many questions about their alleged choice of primary keys, but I think I can work with the thing.
Haystack likes Salesforce.
I made a list of my favorite software, starting from worst favorite and improving:
[that helldesk software]
[the procurement and expense software]
Outlook Web Access
Kipper/Llama (fondness for the devs is coloring this)
Haystack was slightly surprised. I can't imagine why; it's not as if I haven't made my feelings fairly clear.
It was a beer bash day. I snagged a table. lb was not in, but Mr. Zune soon joined me, followed by Purple and large chunks of his team. radius also joined us. I waved hi to another friend, but the table was not quite large enough, so they sat elsewhere. Mr. Zune told college dorm tales. It turns out that when you freeze and then drop a pumpkin, shards get all over, and then they melt on your bike. This is not pleasant.
Joining #fishbrick is the fishdiscus, or fishbee -- first you #fishbrick the window, and then you throw the much more aerodynamic and prone to shattering fishdiscus through the hole. You can't really handle it barehanded, so you wear gloves. You keep the fishdiscus from sticking to the gloves with herring oil. In case they're gloves you might want to use again, you wear rubber gloves over them. A pair or two.
Shortly after Mr. Zune headed off, Lennon Glasses Guy wandered over.
radius regaled us with some of his OWA war stories. All he was trying to do was to move about 2,000 messages from one folder to another. Several months of swearing ensued. Presently, in the new folder, there are somewhere upwards of 40,000...
Lennon Glasses Guy observed that he's heard about an IRC channel driving some of this group's shenanigans from time to time, and he was curious about it. So he was issued a formal invitation to #cupcake. I think he will appreciate it, because he appreciates it when Purple and I bounce off each other at lunch, and has enjoyed the #cupcake table at beer bash.
The group split up. I went back to my desk and hammered on my inbox and the helldesk stuff a bit, although I was distracted by something terrible happening in Outlook when I tried to pick a conference room. It's always startling to watch the list of conference rooms populate and then vanish...
Presently, Purple pinged me. This time he had indeed parked in the same parking lot as I had, and we walked out. He had a banana and a tangerine; he held them both out and offered me some fruit. I picked the one that would not cause me woe. He suggested a frying pan and some rum. We chatted for a bit, and then he zipped off, as he had places to be. I chatted with Nora on the way home.
* radius thinks we are all very weird for our tab counts. He cleans out his browser regularly.
* I managed to bleed through the following: a padette, an overnight pad, my underwear, a pair of cotton shorts, and my skirt -- onto my desk chair. Which I promptly attacked with an enzyme thingy and also a couple of those lysol wipes, but there's still a distinctively-shaped rusty-colored stain. This is going to be an interesting help ticket.
* SPEAKING OF HELP TICKETS, a major update to the program went out today. There were some inaccuracies in the description given to me by the guy. Flower crown not entirely warranted.
* Help tickets were flying every which-way yesterday and today. A whole bunch got closed, not all of them for good reason. A bunch got re-opened, presumably because someone realized they'd fucked up. Then there were a bunch of duplicate updates.
* I didn't get a notification when someone closed my emailed-in ticket as invalid, because the content was all in the subject line and the attachment. Check the thing, bozos. Also, wtf. I will pursue that one. Later.
* I said something unkind about helpdesk. Purple says that helpdesk has a normal distribution of great people, normal people, and terrible people. Then he added that the tool makes terrible people of them all.
* Purple's phone takes MiniUSB, not MicroUSB. He called me while I was stomping vaguely victoriously towards my car with the pads, underwear, shorts, too-small skirt, and emergency pants. He called me on his desk phone because his cellphone had chewed through its battery again, possibly due to not turning its screen off while closed.
* If I have to explain verbally while someone is "in the middle of a meeting" exactly why I am taking a little trip off-campus (because of a vigorous menstrual event) if there are dinner plans in the offing, I will fail. If it had just been him in his office, I would have been fine, I think. But there were other people there so it was time-sensitive and I didn't know whether they could hear me.
* Work is switching contractor management companies, which results in all the contractors doing an annoying amount of paperwork. Purple has heard of the new company, but not of the old one.
A brief chronological rundown of some of Friday:
( Read more... )
* This is the second emergency pants purchase I have made in the past 8 years. The first one was when my skirt tore in Phoenix at a mall which was a little too nice for me. Fortunately, I did not have to wear actual pants this time. (Trousers. Though this round did also include emergency pants.)
* This is my third outerpants purchase in the past 8 years. The second one was a bunch of jeans that I don't particularly care for, in advance of the 2011 Alaska trip, in a misguided attempt to save on packing space.
* The Rollercoaster Tycoon is heading off to a startup; next week will be his last at Virtual Hammer. He's more at home in a small environment, so this should be good for him.
* I am most likely allergic to my desktop. Purple asked how that worked. "Well, when I put my arm down like so--" "Oh, you mean your actual desktop. Not your computer."
* phone has joined #adventuresofstnono. This is great.
* Have given the Antisocialest Butterfly my contact information (with phone number) just in case Purple's phone runs out of battery (again). Have also authorized Purple to pass my number along to Mr. Antisocial Butterfly, also ditto. (Mr. Antisocial Butterfly had been invited, but due to logistics partly involving Purple's phone situation, did not attend.)
* butterscotch is kind of great. Chile Colorado: also delicious.
* Explaining Shrimpy is kind of odd.
* Explaining Shawn is more odd.
* I may just bring a spare change of clothes to leave at work, henceforth.
( NSFW, with even worse video link; mildly genital-essentialist )
So I woke up this morning with my early alarm and saw no good reason to go back to sleep. And I headed in to work. I started checking my email. I saw that the Conference Commandant had sent an invitation at about 7am. Which was for 11am. Which had been about five minutes ago. I reset my whiteboard for In Another Castle and skidded out the door for the shuttle up to the top of the hill, emailing as I went that I was on my way to the appointed building.
As I went across the second floor balcony, I saw the Events lady and the Commandant and Polka-Dot approaching. We waved. I went inside and down on the elevator, and we toured the conference rooms.
The committee chairs were charmed, and we put a hold on the rooms until we can get a confirmation of the actual dates (in January after people come back).
I'm going to have to, eventually, before it becomes more of an issue, have a brief chat with the Commandant about the hours in which she can expect me to be aware of my email. (Which is a conversation that I was having with Purple last night.) My expected sleep cycle swings between midnight to noon. I am currently hammering it back to 10:30am-ish via a very persistent set of alarms. I love my job. Nonetheless, I have three alarms. If it happens after midnight, don't expect me to see it until at least 10:30. When there's a known Thing which I need to be alert related to, I will actively monitor my email when I get up to pee in the night. When there isn't, I don't believe in actually being available 24x7, because I'm so very not getting paid like I should be.
There was another round of back-and-forth with the helpdesk. The tech of the moment declared that because our two test users who couldn't see the ticket via the link are mere R&D minions, everything was fine. I countered that there were use cases which made the inability to fucking link a fucking ticket a right bastard (without the swearing). I mentioned that this was a substantial regression and that it would be reported to the Torchbearer for triage. (I left unmentioned that the Torchbearer is now cc:ed on the ticket, and that I am one of the people giving substantial input on priority.)
Lunch happened. The group was chatting about how various places in the US had rather unexpected names. Purple joined us somewhat belatedly; I suspect he got swiped for conversation while in line. Eventually the topic turned to that of Fuck Off As A Service.
Table 1: engineers giggling over a Fuck Off as a Service API. Table 2: small children busily learning new words.— Azure Luidaeg (@azurelunatic) December 23, 2014
The concept of Into the Woods on Boxing Day sounds moderately appealing to Purple, but he also has some friends who may need help moving at that point. We'll see. (Later, when I gave him the planned time and location, and said that this would diminish the chances that he could come, he queried. He'd been counting on me picking a place closer to myself in his initial assessment. I'd been willing to negotiate something closer to middle ground had he been guaranteed-free.) I would still of course be happy to see him, I said. He'd figured as much.
That turned into a discussion of the times and places where I would not be happy to see him. I eventually boiled down my general constraints:
* Not awakening me from my sleep cycle.
* Not while I was in the middle of some bodily function or another for which I require privacy.
* Not while I was in the middle of something time-sensitive for which I require concentration.
So, him showing up on my doorstep and waking me up to see this dead skunk? Right out. Which is not his style.
Most of my day involved being face-first in the middle of explicitly writing out various of the assumptions embedded in the location meeting. I also did some of the aforementioned wrestling with helldesk, plus some bonus procurement wrangling.
Last night on not!Facebook, I tried to politely articulate some of my requirements for good documentation. ( Read more... )
Today's Procurement wrangling involved scanning some documents, then withdrawing the requisition, attaching them, and re-submitting it. Which, if the documentation had been available in non-video form, I might have got right on the first go.
To rest my brain, I did poke at a work-side Gallery of Hostile Signatures for local amusement.
I located a fireplace video and put it on the
Someone stopped by with cookies. It turned out to have been R.
I came up with a suggestion to maybe make the helldesk software a little better. When I mentioned it in #cupcake, I accidentally caught Mr. Zune on remote desktop working from two timezones away at 10pm.
All the running about with stairs did a bit of a number on me, and then the extended focus of writing up the meeting notes and braindumping gave me the headache.
Purple was also a bit braindrained from braindumping. He observed that my fireplace was buffering. He did a "Daddy, my fishtank is buffering!" conversation, involving "Did you reboot the router?" I giggled extensively.
My knees were not yelly today, but I was substantially off-balance, enough to accidentally punch the disco ball. I took my work cane out to the car. Purple was gentle hugging me goodnight, even though I was wobbly, not hurty. He joked about the level of kicks that should be dealt out; I demonstrated lightly kicking at the level of his laptop bag, and explained that in deference to my current status, I would only be kicking at that level and not any higher. Usually I go for the head or shoulder when being silly with kicking. (And the advantages of playing with people who are not Darkside is, they are less likely to attempt to knock me over. Heh.)
The thing which I was going to tell Purple about, but my train of thought got derailed, was the grapefruit video.
And I will see Purple tomorrow.
Abduction by #cupcake for the purposes of an ice-cream walk: happened.
( Azz vs. the IT Infrastructure )
Lunch with Purple. Despite the extra-full parking lot, very few of the usual suspects were around for lunch. Purple and I wound up having a nice quiet end of the table to ourselves.
Whatever they did to the pulled pork at the taco station was not good: it was somewhat sweet, which would have possibly been all right if it had had any amount of salt, which it did not. I asked Purple to pass the salt, by which he concluded that I did not have the chicken burrito, as he'd had an encounter with the same pulled pork earlier that week.
Purple's taking the entirety of Thanksgiving week off, and may not leave his condo during that time. He may therefore be absent from the Seanan party.
I observed my grandmanager showing up at an external cafeteria door, plate in one hand and cellphone held to the ear with the other. He stood there sort of uncertain what to do now until someone got up to let him in. Shortly thereafter, he was seen at the badged exit into the rest of the building, cellphone in one hand on one ear and other hand on other ear to block noise, spinning in circles until the other people near the door opened it and he was able to walk through with them.
Purple then defined the term "telepathetic". He removed the salt shaker from by my plate. "Hey!" "And instead of asking someone to pass the salt, you just stare at it looking pathetic until someone hands it to you." He moved it back. Then he took it away again, quickly returning it after I gave him The Look (not a pathetic one, an "I'm not wearing the loon beak RIGHT NOW, mister, but..." one).
Somewhere partway through the afternoon, a piece of network infrastructure went biting-pear-shaped and fucked the network but gloriously. That was a bit not good. Side effects included utter hosing of the thing which you need to authenticate through in order to get to the offsite SaaS helpdesk (sessions time out after 30 minutes).
In unqualifiedly excellent news: the Dean and I have an appointment for next Friday to print and laminate disambiguation signs for all external entrances (of at least my building, but I'm hoping to prepare the lot and just do it all in one go). My manager and Rocky were beside themselves with glee when I ran over to tell someone, and Rocky particularly hopes to sign all the new buildings.
phone: Wait, why would you need that?
ajl: "Hi, I'm here at Building D with your pizza."
ajl: "Great, what door are you at?"
phone: Oh. Yeah.
Then Purple and Radius discussed various amusing words which could be made with the letters A-D followed by low-ish Roman numerals. DIV, BI, AIX ... I shall perhaps spoil their fun a little through careful formatting.
Then Kat called. Upon learning that I was still at work and that Purple had just asked me when I was ready to leave, she demanded to talk to him. Hilarity ensued; he did show up and Kat somehow got from Segways (Purple and I need them to get around in the Very Large Office Park) through helpful ferrets in packing peanuts to whether or not Purple is a Centauri. (He helpfully held up his hair in a crest.) "YOU ARE NOT ALLOWED TO SEE HIM HE HAS A PREHENSILE PENIS!" Kat declared.
Purple held up a lemonhead. I had the phone in one hand and something (I think my headset) in the other, so I just opened my mouth. Purple tried throwing it in. It bounced off my lip and hit the asphalt. Woops.
I had to explain "drift-compatible" to Purple, as he hasn't seen Pacific Rim.
Purple is nicely tall, but not too tall. I like the way I can lean my head on his shoulder when hugging goodnight. His neck is warm. His hair likes to try to get inside my face.
I went early-ish; Purple also went early-ish; we failed to locate each other until much later. I sat down next to Mr. Sub-tle and chatted a bit while sewing square white buttons on a black shawl. The major challenge is to sew them on in a way that has them retain their orientation. I learned many things about the shenanigans which go into arranging certain events.
At length lb appeared, and then the Other Guy. They had a rousing discussion of events. Eventually things got louder, and lb and I headed over to a quieter side bench, which had the disadvantage of extra reverb. Purple came out to join us after a while, and there was lengthy and hilarious discussion, some of which was more appropriate than others. I got an appreciable amount done on embellishing the shawl. The buttons were sent in a large bulk bag. The manufacturing process involved chips of plastic lodging themselves in the thread tunnels of the buttons, so I had to ream them out. Meanwhile, Purple and lb and Dean Pelton (and Purple points out that our version is *much more* butch than Community's) all thought they looked like chiclets. "Manlets!" Purple declared. Whereupon I said that I was reaming the manlet. Hilarity, etc.
Dinner or something was briefly under debate, but declined on the grounds that Saturday was going to be sort of epic. Purple and I wrapped up, then walked out together. We nearly lost balance when hugging, but recovered. I was reminded of the gif floating around tumblr of the people dancing off a balcony, then demonstrated Tay's tango-punch. Purple had thought of a slightly different way to do that, which delighted me. And then we headed off, intending to have quiet and early nights. I did better at that than he did, as he proved to be coding up a storm on some personal projects, late into the night...
lb invited one of his other work friends back to #adventuresofstnono. Whee!
This is deliberate badfic. I do not expect any of you to read it. However, lb and StPatience (who are From The Internet and non-fannish) did in fact read it and then spend a chunk of time quoting their favorite bits back to me... and it is good that they enjoyed it, because they helped with the brainstorming process.
do they have within, The sons of the glorious gods?" - the fic (1693 words) by azurelunatic
Fandom: Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies), Breakfast Pastry (anthropomorphic)
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Relationships: Thor/Breakfast Pastry, Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles/Pizza, April O'Neil/Darcy Lewis
Characters: April O'Neil, Darcy Lewis, Thor (Marvel)
Additional Tags: no cylons, even though there are plenty of toasters, idk maybe one of the toasters is really a cylon, maybe one of the toaster pastries was a cylon, maybe you're a cylon, pop tarts, toaster pastries, I tried to get my friend to beta this, but all I got was a lecture about how I was using the wrong cooking product as lube, Not Beta Read, lube/not-lube, Not Lube, Recreational Drug Use, toasterfuck jizzworld
In the first Bad Bang, we saw Thor fucking a Pop Tart, while getting reamed by a Ninja Turtle. It was the most erotic thing I ever saw.
But I wanted to give it a sequel. So here is a Pop-Tart, fucking Thor to find out what is with in.
Contains boy kissing, pastires. Don't like don't read.
Bonus chatlog of the creative process below.
( From #adventuresofstnono )
Today (Friday) was actually kind of good!
( A lot of other days. )
So what with all that going on, I went home not that long after the team meeting, and promptly fell the fuck asleep for a good chunk of evening.
22:42 Monday, 13 October, 2014
Friday: productive with a solid chunk of transcription, and then there was the non-beer-bash gathering of all currently in-state members of #cupcake (R was out of state for a conference), at which all sorts of fun was had. ( jellybeans and vodka, among other funs. )
On Saturday, I headed up into the city for some fabric shopping and millinery. I only burned my finger once on the hot glue!
Sunday was sleep, laundry, and lack of sleep.
Today, I dragged in to work late for lunch, and joined Purple's table as they were winding up. Purple went on in rhapsodic detail about the various synthesizer-related programming he's been working on. I sat and absorbed the delight. He headed back, and I was about to head back as well when phone came through with his lunch, so we chatted a bit.
Aside from the brief 1:1 with my manager, and the exploration of the swag brought back by my Overlady, the day was largely transcription. Purple thought he was going to bail an hour before he actually did, but the new guy needed some orientation, apparently.
If scary bunny masks become the new V-for-Vendetta mask in certain parts of the Valley of the Cloud, don't look at me.
( Culinary reference to arachnids. )
I woke up substantially before my alarm, and decided to say fuck it and get out of bed around 8:30 (only a half-hour early). Then I took a leisurely drive to work, chatting with Nora the whole way (well, post-coffee).
My Overlady popped over to see what was the matter, that I was in at the normal beginning of the engineering day. I explained. Her 12:00 was with someone I have dearly missed; I suggested some choice snippets to mention. Basically no sooner did she pop off to her own office than lb and the angry man with all the tattoos showed up. My cube was a distracting cave of wonders, but we went over the sortable chart of grouses (the wiki page with the timeline of the helldesk software, the sortable wikitable with requested improvements, the R&D end-user profile, and the picture of the ruffed grouse) and made a few edits and priority confirmations before marching off to the meeting itself. Beldorion was not in the office today, and Gramp had a conflicting meeting.
The meeting was on the ass-end of campus, in perhaps literally the furthest building from where lb sits: definitely the horizontally furthest, although there is a diagonal building which may have a little greater actual distance. Some people were at no pains to be friendly to engineering-land. We got there a minute after by my watch, while the people already in the room were giving it a few more minutes to see who else would be there and get the webex started.
I was correct in yesterday's assertion that today's meeting was unmissable. I believe I am recalling my manager verbatim when I relate that her instructions to me were: "Give 'em hell."
In the room: the aforementioned incomprehensible twerp, the highly placed dev running the demo, someone sitting quietly and shutting up, Too Much Eyeliner Lady (somewhere highly placed in local ownership of the helldesk software, but a consummate buck-passer), someone from IT, and then the engineering-land contingent. We were, in order: the Desert Islander, very chill; the Angry Tattooed Man, angry; lb, stern; Azz, by turns stern and earnestly, specifically, functionally constructive. Engineering-land contingent got printouts of the wiki page for reference. lb and I took notes (him every now and then on his phone, me with pen and paper).
The engineering contingent post-mortem lasted the twenty minutes back to engineering-land, with further follow-up to follow at some point I am sure.
Lunch was with Purple, and pleasant. He has an ambitious project to spearhead with the knowledge and blessing of his manager.
Wednesday is the day when the cafeteria does their hump day takeout program: place your order before early afternoon, and you too can take home a corporate cafeteria quality meal at takeout prices. It looked decent, so I ordered.
My Overlady came back from her 12:00 with many bits of information. She perched on my couch and shared the intelligence from this meeting. Oh, my.
My computer's been in need of a reboot for a bit, so I was chipping away at getting the things done that I needed to get done before that point. Eventually it hit mid-evening. I pinged Purple and (after flailing at sithjawa a bit) mentioned the concept of dinner, and did he want any. Which he did. We opted for my cube this time. I have a guest couch! He said he'd be over in a bit, and to feel free to start without him (always a dangerous statement from an engineer). I was just separating the plates when he arrived. It's nice to have guests in my cube! I began to tell him some of the highlight from my Overlady's 12:00.
I heard Designer Sparkles coming out of an office. "There's nobody here at this hour!" she said. "No," my Overlady agreed, "except maybe Azure." Designer Sparkles wandered out of the office in search of places more like home. And as my Overlady came around the corner, there I was! With a Purple in my cube.
Then followed a delightful conversation wherein my Overlady shared intelligence from her 12:00 with Purple, we compared some experiences raising hell in school, and all in all a great time was had. My Overlady headed off in search of her own dinner, and we finished ours. Then Purple went back to his desk, and I had the joy of a very crashed computer in need of some Windows updates. My next task: install Notepad++, because I do much better about autosaving in that than in Windows Notepad. (Which I just typed as Nopetad.)
Parking lot conversation was largely fishbrick. Also puddinghandle, toiletjello, blenderpoop, shortsheet, notebolt, and other mostly theoretical forms of mayhem. To be clear: very few of these are actually good ideas to do! Puddinghandle: mix up some very, very chocolatey chocolate pudding. Put a roll of toilet paper on top of someone's car, to catch their attention. Spread the pudding under the door handle. Toiletjello: this is a Shawn stunt. Mix clear gelatin with the boiling water. Pour into the cold water of the toilet bowls at school. (This works best in a cold climate.) Allow enough time to set before the students come in. Shawn was disappointed in the janitors in that they did not think of the hot water (add more hot water, perhaps from the coffee pot, to dissolve the jello safely) and instead removed it by hand. (Purple: "That would be an unforgettable parfait.") Blenderpoop: targeting the Insufferable Smoothie person, either by actually doing it (ideally with multiple DNA sources) or just leaving a note with a crude depiction of a stick figure pooping in their blender. Shortsheet: this is the classic prank. Notebolt: leave a few spare bolts on somebody's desk with a note saying something like "I think you'll need these." The bolts are not actually from anything they own, but they spend some time looking fruitlessly. (Sort of like releasing the five pigs, numbered 1, 2, 3, 5, 6, into a sufficiently large building.)
Beardwatch 2014: still on.
At the end of the day, I still smell faintly of white flowers, although less like murder.
[20:34] <@Purple> conclusion is "Step 1, get underpants... step 3 success!"
[20:34] * @AzureJaneL throws underpants at Purple
[20:34] * @AzureJaneL not sure whose
[20:35] * @Purple dodges effectively.
[20:35] <@AzureJaneL> (certainly not mine, as I'm wearing them)
[20:36] <@AzureJaneL> (but can he dodge the boomarang boxers, is the question)
[20:36] <@Purple> if they hold a shape that is a sad sad statement
[20:37] <@AzureJaneL> clever rolling and pins?
[20:37] <@AzureJaneL> would that be more or less painful than just straight up crusty?
[20:38] <@Purple> when you figure that out... remind me not to ask...
[20:39] <@AzureJaneL> that's one that would be difficult to explain to the IRB
( Read more... )
( Contemptuous podcasts are not enjoyable. )
The Polka-Dot Researcher wandered by my cube and wanted to know if post-its and highlighters were a thing that I could help set her up with. She left my cube with some jellybeans, a rainbow stack of post-its, a package of rainbow bookmark flags, and a set of rainbow highlighters. After which I placed an order to replenish my stock of flags and highlighters. One of the sneaky benefits of this is that when I take the set of highlighters on my desk and present someone with instant gratification, the person gets highlighters instantly, the highlighters are nearly new, I'm likely to be able to do things that either don't involve highlighters or use some personal ones, and I get an entirely new pack of work highlighters slightly later.
The babyfish graduates high school in less than a week. I am immensely proud of her, for academic achievement under adverse circumstances, for staying alive, and for not stabbing her mother in the kidneys in the dead of night. All of these are worth celebrating.
My comfy chair is seductively cozy, and results in conferences and confidences. First my Overlady popped in, and we discussed all sorts of things. Later, R came by in the plotting of a DIY BYOB bash. I'd just got a call from Purple asking whether he could stow a box of stuff which he didn't care to have the movers tangle with in my cube, so we waited a while (he had been held up; we eventually waited outside). Of course, no sooner did we settle in outside than Purple showed up with the box. So I escorted him back to my cube, where I'd cleared a space specifically for the box. "You didn't have to come with me." "You didn't have to open the door. I have more hands than you." "Well, technically..." "Let me show you my third hand. And my third eye." "... ... ..." "And my third leg?" Wisely not responding to that statement, he parked his box and laptop bag in my cube, and we went back out to rejoin the fun.
There had been some earlier discussion about heading to check out a food truck thing, but there was no immediate decision made.
I got some jellybeans and the Who Would Win game. Purple prefers these to the Jelly Belly, which is nice as the CEO of this company, again, hasn't been caught saying terrible things about trans* kids. ( Who would win: Kirk or Vader? )
( Fun with dinner! )
Shortly thereafter, two representatives of #cupcake came tapping at my cubicle door, arriving more or less simultaneously in search of pastry. I escorted them over to the table. Purple headed off with a pastry to his meeting. lb and I wandered back in the general direction of my cube, where we had one of those conversations which is much more often two women, one of whom is warning the other about a man.
After that I banged my head against LiveScribe and OneNote basically until lunchtime.
"See over there? They have an IM demo set up."
"I'm sure you have a lot of questions."
"Real questions? No. Troll questions, on the other hand..."
So I popped over to say hello to the guys, and the nearest dude and Purple and I had a rousing conversation about many of the varied forms of communication that aren't really covered by the new chat thing. Particularly the general IRC channel, which covers topics like "Dude, what's with the network today?", "Hey, I'm working on such-and-such a thing, anybody know an expert whose brain I can pick?" and "...the FUCK is the cafeteria even smoking, man?!?!" Also the various multidisciplinary side channels, like good ol' #cupcake, and email lists such as vultures@, and my quiet encouragement of semi-official use of same by event planners with leftovers.
( Read more... )
Now picture the Reverend Lunatic, wearing black from top to toe with the exception of a blue-tipped braid and a navy-blue cane, a classic sufferer of Bitchy Resting Face, carrying a very large blue IKEA zipper bag as if it weighed approximately nothing, with a single cheerful balloon rising from a ribbon coming out the middle where the two ends of the zipper meet.
I'd like you to picture that very hard, because it's likely that no such thing will ever happen again.
(Well, until the next time I need to transport balloons and the trunk is full.)
[00:48] azurelunatic: Today Outlook began giving me shitfits
[00:49] azurelunatic: it decided that email from my junior researcher and manager was spam, and that I didn't need to view headers
[00:49] [unnamed work friend]: yow
[00:49] [unnamed work friend]: I thought our spam filter was separate from [the previous thing]/exchange
[00:49] azurelunatic: it is!
[00:50] azurelunatic: But that didn't stop plucky little outlook from deciding to apply its own
[00:50] azurelunatic: which was set on default of "no, really, this shouldn't catch any actual mail"
[00:50] azurelunatic: WELP
[00:51] azurelunatic: I complained to poor [Purple] about this.
[00:51] azurelunatic: His commentary was along the lines of "You missed a 'fucking' there, before 'default'."
[00:52] azurelunatic: (the paragraph already contained "fucking" about six times, so I could be forgiven for not typing it again)
Later, Purple made a cognitive leap [editor's note: apparently the concept of "cognitive leap" tied to Jack-in-the-Crack ranch sauce is a deja-vu anchor point for me] from the mention of a fairly arbitrary number in the 70s to trombones. "But there were 76 trombones," I said. "Where did the [difference] end up?"
"In the closet?" he guessed. "With a flute?"
I began facepalming steadily. Scotty, late of Much Ado About Star Trek, plays the trombone. If he were to be caught in the closet with anybody...
I indicated that it was possible that more than one character from my 1994 novel, the one that started when my friend "Bugs" (the one who had drummed on my head) tried to set up the cute little nerd girl with the cute little nerd boy because they both liked Star Trek, might be invading my ~2004 novel, and that in the original, Scotty had had a certain problem with gayness, particularly the idea that his BFF Jeff might be gay for him. His BFF Jeff who might well have played the flute. "HOW MANY CHARACTERS FROM THIS THING ARE GOING TO START INVADING?!?!" I asked.
"So you'd say they're getting the band back together?" Purple said. "Just think of the repercussions," he threw in as an afterthought.
My mouth opened. My mouth closed. My mouth went sideways. No words came out.
Apparently that was the most bizarre expression he'd seen on me to date. "What did I say? 'Getting the band back together'? What? You've poked me so many times that if this were on Facebook I'd have been hit with a sheep by now."
"Repercussions," I finally managed.
He hadn't even realized it.
Honorable sentients: my friend Purple.
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In other news, one of my friends' teams at work is moving buildings. Today they had a small party in order to drink their way through some of the team-owned boozes so that they would not have to actually move them all. Having been invited, I went over there and partook of some hard, hard lemonade. Then I came back and did not stuff M&Ms up my nose.
I chatted with Purple. At one point I reached out a finger to poke him. He reached back. Then I was en garde and we fenced about his office, me standing and him in his office chair, rolling handily across the floor. He said something witty once he eventually did break through my guard. "Good fences make good neighbors," I said, and then we were giggling once more.
Laundry has been accomplished. This includes actually hanging up the tops and skirts. I'm impressed with myself.
There is coffee in the refrigerator. I'm attempting to cold-brew. We'll see how that goes.
I have polished my nails. This time I used black, then a glitter with big silver chunks, little light blue bits, and a sort of blue jelly liquid. Then the top coat. Once the weird edge spills come off in the shower, I might take a picture.
The nail polish has shattered and is peeling.
Tuesday had some heavy conversation in the late evening. It turned out that something fairly random at work rebooted my brain straight into some really bad state from October. I walloped it a bit, and then Purple cheered me up some too. I thanked him again tonight, and made sure that he knew that in the excessively unlikely event that he should see me in a worse state, that wasn't something that he was expected to deal with, and should call someone. That kicked off a moderately deep and meta conversation.
Naturally it didn't stay that deep for excessively long, because the concept of attempting to get to sleep while there are two people over in the next bed and one of them is giggling ensued. We unleashed a veritable staircase of witticisms; I won with "I'm trying to sleep! Can you make your penis a little less funny?"
Not being a one to waste a line like that, I started tweeting. "It's going in a book?" "... Yes. And we know just the one, too! Aww hell, I didn't know there was a third part!"
( Various bits, resulting in Cutting Room Floor babbling, including a whole-cast rename. The only one to keep her name is Beatrice. )