azurelunatic: A glittery black pin badge with a blue holographic star in the middle. (Default)
So Sunday I was feeling somewhat poorly... Sunday night I had a hard time getting to sleep for the coughing ... Monday there was no question of stepping out ... Tuesday I was still weak and sore, but much more coherent. Today, finally, I felt somewhat human again.

Therefore I wound up at work. phone is back from Australia. I had lunch with Purple and the guys. Purple was teasing me that oxygen isn't really necessary, because without oxygen, people don't complain at the lack ... therefore it isn't necessary ... right? I told him that he was one of the nicest assholes I knew. (That's the sort of compliment he likes.)

lb came by, and we strolled up in search of pastry. It was a slow stroll as my lungs were not all the way up to the hill yet. On our way back, I decided to try going through a nearby building to see if one of the people I knew from IRC was in. He was. I said goodbye, quite regretful that our first in-person meeting was both hello and goodbye.

One of the new hires had arrived while I was WFH-sick. I helped him navigate the helldesk in order to place the order for his new-hire software. As I popped back out of his office, one of the fellows from down the hall (towards the salesy side of engineering) stopped to tell me that I'd been very courageous on Thursday what with the asking inconvenient questions in public and all. (I hadn't felt *very* courageous, just a little bit. It gets easier after the first time, and it wasn't my dangerous question.)

I am still surprised to work in a place where people go out of their way to tell me that they like me and will miss me. I am still expecting the elementary school paradigm where I'm too weird, and then too oblivious to notice that everyone wants me to shut up and stop being weird at them.

The evening was a bit of an exercise in aslkjdfasdklfjalskdfj, as R had a sudden conference deadline, and therefore there was a bit of a scramble! Factors included: me being out sick, the high-quality photos being on the portable drive, the portable drive being Mac formatted, the general difficulty of getting things off a Mac-formatted drive when what you've got is Windows ...

... and the true helpful glory of a company full of very creative engineers who specialize in certain things, and have certain recommendations and pro tips. For example, they can tell me that certain paths are a fool's errand, and that possibly the simplest route is to plug the drive into an actual Mac. And some other things which might actually work. I decided I would try one of the other things first.

Purple said that he would have to take his hat off to me if I got stuff loaded without resorting to an actual Mac. (He doesn't wear a hat, so this will be hard.)

*gazes serenely at the progress bar*
azurelunatic: Blue-iced cupcake with sprinkles.  (cupcake)
As part of my attempt to leave the workplace better than I found it, I have been leaving thank-you notes via not!Facebook. If you do it in a particular way, it will wind up in the HR admin system flagged to the positive attention of their managers.

Community Thanks to: R, codepoetica, lb, Purple, sfa, jmeme, radius, Mr. Zune, the guy who was having the trouser situation that one time, phone
All of you embody the spirit of helpful cooperation that I have come to enjoy at Virtual Hammer. You offer a listening ear to frustrations, and offer your technical perspective towards solving problems, and of course it's great to see you over some beer and a cupcake.

Mostly the responses were variations on "thanks". And then --
Read more... )
azurelunatic: "Are you challenging my ingenuity?"  (ingenuity)
My priorities at work are: get the participant database in reasonable working order (including the yelling at vendors), and get the process for the yearly conference in as well-documented order as I can get it.

There has been database WTF-ery. The response from the vendor is sort of shaped like "yes Reverend thank you Reverend" as I tell them that this is unexpected and not in the good way. Purple is amused.


I'm starting to apply places, and collecting my references and paperworks.

More people continue to find out and/or ask me about the status of the contractor deadline. I feel somewhat socially obligated to put a good face on it, at least to people who aren't #VirtualH, #dreamwidth, #cupcake, #adventuresofstnono, or closer. This results in scenarios like:

ajl: I've heard vague rumors to the effect that people are talking about getting us a paid Slack, but only rumors. In the future, you should probably ask [R&D IT Flashlight Guy] about that, he might be best placed to know.
MrBlueHair: Wait, "in the future" ARE YOU LEAVING US
ajl: Well, there's that contractor policy, and my team wasn't able to get me converted to full time before the deadline, barring a miracle.
MrBlueHair: ... !!! D:
ajl: :( :( :(

or

R2, the guy on my team not my else-team friend: Well, I'm headed to India to get married, see you when I get back!
AzureJ: Congratulations, and it's been a pleasure working with you.
R2: Oh, I'm coming back! At the end of February!
AzureJ: When in February?
R2: The end ... omg, you won't ... ? Where are you ... ?
AzureJ: The 16th. I don't know yet.
R2: Oh. It's been good working with you too. :(


When that happens, I tend to IM Purple with the gist of the conversation and try to not let it go from tears leaking out my eyes to actual audible sobbing. He says that long notice in situations like this is kind of torture. I'm inclined to agree, though I also appreciate it so I can prepare.

One of the things helping me keep it together is the way that I know I am cared-for and well-regarded, on my team and off, and especially amongst #VirtualH and #cupcake. Purple hugs me goodnight, shoulder-bumps me, occasionally pets my arm, and lets me take shelter next to him. I keep rediscovering that undemanding sustained physical contact with folks who don't set off my alarm bells is a thing that does me great amounts of good. (Even while the same amount of proximity to people *not* cleared for unmonitored access to my blind spots would leave me worse off.) Mr. Zune has joined #adventuresofstnono, which goes a long way towards keeping the people I cherish most from #cupcake in places I will see them regularly. (We have yet to coax radius in there.)

Recently, #adventuresofstnono have been talking about the reverse of popular internet emotional signifiers. What is the opposite of LOL? Throwing up? Crying inside? The simple D: ? This inevitably led to 8===D and its opposite, 8===D: the aghast ascii penis.


I have Scrivener set up, and have embarked upon a project which is intended to be a tropey tropey paper bag which may contain a magician's bird of definite fjord-pining status, and might also possibly -- well. So the other day on Twitter...




Naturally I hunted down the reference (like a good fishmum) and while the story was sweet and hot and I was happy to have spent a fancy coffee's worth on it, the writing quality was not what I'm accustomed to. In fact...

"I can write better than that," I groused to myself. "In fact, I've half a mind to..."

[personal profile] norabombay and [personal profile] sithjawa promptly started incorriging me.

I now have:
* working title (terrible, terrible pun)
* a possibly viable pen name
* a main pairing, several supporting couples, and some names
* a terribly on the nose pen name for the bad fanfic written by a supporting couple
* tons of incorrigement
Pray for me.
azurelunatic: A glittery black pin badge with a blue holographic star in the middle. (Default)
On Wednesday the 30th, I rolled a will save against sending an email to someone offering "support, moral or immoral" on the grounds that I didn't actually want to embarrass myself that badly to someone whose good opinion I valued (and if I didn't value their good opinion, why in the hell would I be offering immoral support?)

radius had said that he was probably leaving for Australia on New Year's Eve. That being a holiday, most sensible people were not in the workplace. He'd said that he got everything that needed shipping sent off with the removalists. (Earlier, he'd mentioned that he'd likely be left with some very odd odds and ends of food, but he was trying to use up what he could before he left. He'd had some ... innovative ... sandwiches prior to leaving on some previous trips.)

I wound up spending my Wednesday evening with some Star Wars, and discussing the new Star Wars with some of the other people who'd stayed until the end of the credits -- Read more... ), about Empire engineering vs. US handrail regulations, and all sorts of lovely things.

I had a nice low-key new year's eve, and a nice low-key new year's day. I decided against getting the rather heavy piece of IKEA furniture which would have solved some of my space woes on the grounds that I wasn't sure I could wrestle it into and out of my car on my own, and I might want to save any such things for when there was a bigger vehicle and someone else to haul things with.

New Year's Day was also a day for laundry, checking the mail, and getting my new registration tag on Vash. Fuck yeah adulthood.

Saturday evening was my aunt's game party. I invited some of the guys (lb, Purple, [personal profile] jld). It was good to see jld! We had two tables playing CAH. Everyone had a lot of fun, and I think we did a good job in making a space in which it was safe to say "yeah, that's actually too terrible for me", since somebody promptly named one of the cards which was entirely unfunny to him, and we all said "yeah, fair" and resolved to discard it quietly if it came up. (Which it didn't.) Dick Cheney was this game's trump card.

Another quiet day Sunday, during which I slept (and then didn't sleep) through a number of uterus malfunctions.

By the time it hit 7am, I was awake, and reckoned I'd best get up. Fortunately, I got my coffee before the coffee machine went down. Non-Boring Manager was the first person to punch me ("That was more of a fist bump.") this year. Dogesitter Designer and Madam Standards were the second and third. I filed a coffee ticket, then wrote up how to do a pour-over by balancing the filter basket on top of the open airpot and using hot water from the espresso machine and anemic fizzer. It may not have been strictly good, but it was still coffee.

Purple's table wound up in the depths of B, below and somewhat within earshot of lb's table upstairs, as the cafeteria was overcrowded and the outside seats were all damp. Purple called me to make sure I wouldn't become lost.

lb approached us, waving a brightly printed something. Someone had left yeast packets on his desk that morning. He'd determined that no one else had received yeast. Purple speculated that it might be the corporate overlords' way of telling everyone that more beer was needed. lb eventually concluded that it must be from radius; the former officemate agreed that this was likely.

<some dude> because they do yeast inspections?
<lb> yes
<lb> there could be bullfrogs or rabies in that yeast

I chivvied Mr. Zune to join #adventuresofstnono, and contributed to technical help in the arrival.

There was also a digression about whether or not people can read Braille with their genitals. Apparently not, generally. (Purple and I would later spend time in the parking lot discussing possible schemes for making it easier. I suggested an array of piercings.)

I chatted with my emergency birthday twin on the team, about custody of my toolkit after the contract end. He'd had a lovely Alaska vacation, and they'd taken a number of my suggestions for good local fun. They did get some aurora sighting! Only level 3, but hooray them!

There was some strategy chatting with lb. phone had passed along a message. I expect that the Singing PM's message which hit inboxes back in December will start to get shoveled out soonish ... maybe.

radius, having arrived in Australia and recovered some from the journey, got back on the internet.

<lb> radius confirmed as the yeaster
<Azz> Happy Yeaster!

Yeaster, I clarified, is where we celebrate the rising of Yeezus.

Purple had spent much of the afternoon away from his computer. Later on, he popped back in, and inquired whether I'd just dropped by his office. I hadn't. He allowed as how it had likely been the evening janitor; the scent was close to mine but not quite the same. He then sort of tripped over himself in attempting to explain that he hadn't meant any of this as a bad thing, just a nose thing. I replied mentioning the day I'd dropped in to his office, inhaled, and from the scent/heat/humidity wound up with a fairly accurate estimate of how long the office had been uninhabited that day. (He'd been at a hack day, it turned out.)

radius notes that I would be likely to get on with his family, based on my sense of humor.
azurelunatic: A glittery black pin badge with a blue holographic star in the middle. (Default)
As scheduled, quite a bit of #cupcake ducked out from their desks around 5:30-ish on Tuesday. With a nominal effort at stealth, we assembled around the fire pit. I saw radius out looking for me on my way over, and showed him how to operate the fire in the fire pit. Rain had been collecting in the seats, so we brushed them off.

One of the reasons the gathering was more urgent than it might have been is that radius is headed back to his alternate universe home Down Under, perhaps this month but definitely by the beginning of next year. He'll be back around, as he's still Working Here, just ... working from there. So we are getting our cupcakery in while we have the chance.

Assembled included me, radius, the guy in the office next door to radius (a new #cupcake arrival), Purple, the scruffy gay Canadian guy from the UK whose office has the unnecessarily gendered bananas, the Dean and his younger kid, and eventually Mr. Tux. There was chocolate. There were marshmallows. There were graham crackers and Danish butter cookies. There was better chocolate. There were roasting forks. There were very valiant attempts at avoiding making any sort of obscene joke that the kid would pick up on when the marshmallow slid down the shaft of the hot dog sized roasting fork in a trail of white goo, and the subsequent introduction of the scruffy gay Canadian guy from the UK to his first s'more ever. Not everyone was careful to check the seats before sitting down, and the scruffy gay Canadian guy from the UK (he really needs a nickname, and I should check to see whether he's already been assigned one) got "wet bum". Happily, there was fire to help with that.

We gossiped. We told scary stories. A ... lot of them were dev or ops flavored. (Hushed ominous voice: "... and he thought he had a viable backup." *gasps*)

One of the guys had been thinking it would be too cold, and how would we keep warm? It turns out, fire is pretty good at that. I was wrapped up in two jackets and an ankle-length cloak, which also helped.

Dark chocolate salted caramel Ghirardelli squares are *fabulous* in s'mores. The almond toffee kind are also great. To Purple's dismay, the dark chocolate mint cream kind were not so great in that combination.

Purple had offered to give radius a lift home, and the scruffy gay Canadian guy from the UK got a lift as far East as Purple was going. We collected in Purple's office for a little more (warmer) gossip. Someone had a wardrobe malfunction -- the scruffy gay Canadian guy from the UK had forgotten his belt, and it turns out that when that happens, his zipper becomes migratory. We talked about the logistics of the Internet of Things (In Your Trousers), and whether a self-zipping fly was practical (no), and how you'd do a fly status monitoring thingy. Plus exploits.

We trooped out to the parking lot. I told radius and the s.g.C.g.f.t.UK about that time that my high school's academic decathlon team did (and then did not) get disqualified from the state competition (yet again), the Hotel Windows Are High Up edition, after the discussion about how many birds it would take to poop on a smartcar to total it. (A lot.) Purple had already heard that story. heh.

One of the little signposts by which I judge the world is the presence and/or nature of the customary goodnight hug. Typically this is not an event observed by co-workers. There have been times when the presence of observers has bent both of us in the direction of this not being a moment that ought to be presented for misinterpretation. This was not that kind of evening. After a fleeting side-hug (that friend to awkward teenagers everywhere) we were all on our merry ways.
azurelunatic: A glittery black pin badge with a blue holographic star in the middle. (Default)
When I wake up in the middle of the night freaking out over Something Or Other, I now have the energy to get up and start Doing Things. This is not always the greatest move. However, when I do start doing this, it does sometimes effectively call my body's bluff on whether this was a good idea, and I find myself going back to bed in short order instead of lying awake freaking out for an hour or two.

Last night's freakout was approximately:
* I am slowly recovering from a pretty gnarly low point, in which I was basically functional enough to go to work, but nothing else.
* For about a month, subsisting on frozen, single-portion-no-prep, and takeout while at home, has meant that my kitchen sink has seen little to no action.
* For the past week-ish, I've been doing enough cooking to wash/rewash a plate and a fork, although not particularly address the forest floor coating of forks in the bottom of the sink.
* Running water in a sink means that whatever's gone down the drain starts to take notice.
* And then there was The Stench.
* An unused garbage disposal, in want of a good hard kick, sits there and hums.
* Reset did not do the job.
* Somehow in some previous cleanup effort, I had put away or recycled all my IKEA hex-keys.

So in the middle of the night I got it into my head that there was no way I could make the kitchen look presentable at *all* (in order to be able to summon the maintenance guy to get the disposal functional to make the smell go away) before my neighbors wound up having the smell get into their apartments (via the kitchen and bathroom vents, which are all connected, so this isn't 100% paranoid fantasy) and complained and of course I would be immediately evicted.

Therefore I got up and about 2 minutes into tidying some of the most obvious kitchen stuff my body realized that actually sleep was a really excellent life choice and I went back to bed. And in the morning I did feel better.

I had a disturbing dream in which I found myself dream violence and dysphoria )

Lunch involved the usual suspects shoving two little round tables together, since there were no available big tables. Conversation started somewhere around The 300 and wound up at the Winchester Mystery House, having detoured through war and armies, Nepal's relationships with India and China, Switzerland's military force and neutrality, what sort of weapons the Swiss army had, and whether the "oh, everyone has their gear at home" meant an airplane in someone's garage, whether or not Winchester made ammunition (yes) and were they still around (yes), and the nature of the Mystery House, and how it's better than the Mystery Spot, and a few other bits and bobs.

At work, I am somewhat waiting on an install of the new version of the database tool to get all up ins and yell about. My aspirational duties also involve a certain amount of Research Logistics Yelling, which is part of the Plan.

After my 1:1, I opened up my email to find that locked entrythis guy will be in my building sometime in the near future. I will make a point of poking my face in with jellybeans during a coffee break or something!

Tomorrow is radius's 40th birthday. Since it was already tomorrow in Australia, we wound up at the cafe (the closer one) in search of ice cream. I looked tragically at the bins with their delicious delicious carbohydrates, and allowed myself a half-scoop. (Upon which Purple did the *facepalm* "Sorry I forgot!" thing. He is a good Purple.)

Mid-evening, I looked back at my personal email and discovered that I was in receipt of a 36-hour notice to enter (24 hours, but they'd been somewhat generous and sent at the end of the previous day rather than the beginning of the next day) because there are Investors, and they are Visiting, and They Will Be Poking Around. Upon which I decided that I was going home at a sensible hour and not attempting to wait up for Mr. Deadline, though I would wait for traffic to die down.

In riveting Helldesk Software news, the team that's to fix the fucker has had a strategic meeting (the recording was posted to not!Facebook) lasting about 2 hours. I pulled up the viewer, popped on my headphones, and started sorting through my mail backlog. The conclusions involve ripping off the terrible front end and just going with the base SaaS package, which is in fact configurable, and they have no fucking reason to be developing bells and whistles on top of it. It also sounds like there are a few departments which may be getting some percussive maintenance in order to conform to some standard of service.

On the one hand, there are departments that really need it. On the other hand, I hope it doesn't interfere with departments which are functioning well.

I wandered over to say goodnight to Purple, with a butterscotch candy and some Mountain Dew. I eyed his whiteboard. I understood the 'It'\''s' and the It's in contrast to it, but what in the name of all *fuckery* was the 'It'"'"'s' ?????????!?!?! He explained. (His whiteboard writing does not differentiate particularly between double and single quotes, so it looked like a line of single quotes.) I got a hug goodnight and headed out.

bluetooth drama )

I picked up a $5 pack of hex keys (including the vital 1/4" one) at Home Depot, as it was cheaper than the manufacturer's $7 single 1/4" hex key, and grabbed dinner on my way home.

Presented with overriding force in the person of someone mechanically turning the wedged-in-place blades, the garbage disposal whirred into action, and the ambient scent in my apartment improved notably. I shall sleep in peace.

Tidying continues. It may not reach a point that I'm actually comfortable with by Thursday, but it's already improved over yesterday, and there have been incremental improvements over the last few weeks.

My tweets

7/7/15 12:05
azurelunatic: A glittery black pin badge with a blue holographic star in the middle. (Default)
  • 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.
azurelunatic: Escher's Order and Chaos drawing: geometric solids and broken things.  (Order and Chaos)
12:13 PM * Azz ambles in a Silly Valley-ward direction
12:25 PM <Purple> hope Azz isn't going to work


Azz was, in fact, going to work. Partly because a conference week is not the world's most bountiful paycheck week (and therefore a four-day week the next week isn't the best choice) and partly because work has air conditioning.

I proceeded to turn on my disco lights and blast* Abney Park while catching up on the paperwork that drives my normal uncanny ability to remember arbitrary weird things.

* for values of "blast" that became nearly inaudible once you reached the bathrooms.

radius was also at work enjoying the air conditioning, as I learned once I checked in on IRC. He'd gone down to Curmudgeon* City to hack on some fun stuff, since it was a weekend.

* They're not jerks per se, but their group's team chat has an honorable history of being displayed in the team area using Microsoft Comic Chat.

The security guy came through and poked at the door, which was unlocking itself, accompanied by irritated beeping when you tried to lock it, again. He was seen on the phone, with some gesticulation. He went away. He returned with a buddy. They both poked at the door, which was no longer doing the thing. They went away.

Eventually it became closer to evening. radius and I made plans for dinner. Sensibly, he proposed that I drive us both, rather than having him go separately on his bike, as bike and dinner dress codes often differ. I was agreeable, but added that I would have to unearth the front seat of the car.

"I can sit on it," he demurred, not having seen what was in the seat.

"No, you cannot," I said, and proceeded to shuffle an amazing number of things out of my front seat: one of those fabric boxes that goes in the big IKEA cube shelves (filled with all manner of road trip snacks and less edible items such as alcohol wipes), any number of soft drink cups, cans, and bottles, a few used napkins, the empty container of blueberries that figured so prominently in Sunday's digestive misadventures*, a box of tampons, several cherry pits, an expended alcohol wipe, a household size fire extinguisher, and about five blueberries that had fallen down behind the snack box. The fire extinguisher wasn't exactly a surprise, because I knew it was there, but I'd sort of glossed over it in my mental accounting, which was mostly "all god's soda cans". radius helped by relaying a few trips to the bins. Mostly the fire extinguisher is in the car because you don't want a car to do something terrible without you have a fire extinguisher; not that I'm expecting him to do something terrible, but it would be just like a car to go ahead and do something like that if you didn't have one handy. So.

* 2 pounds of blueberries eaten over the course of about 11 hours of Saturday without actual solid food? after 2pm-ish? Not my best life choice.

We then went for dinner and gossip. I introduced him to the Book of Wholesome Hobbies. It's starting to get unwieldy, and I may have to start categorizing. There are an awful lot of prohibitions based on fire.

Eventually we traipsed back to work. I spent some more time whacking chunks of text around. The door started doing the thing again, of course when the other security guard wasn't looking. The first guy seemed frustrated. After he left, I went and poked at it myself. I went outside and badged the door, but didn't open it. The unlock window timed out, and the master door locked itself. Somewhat hesitantly, the problem door followed suit. So I may have figured out how to make it stop doing the thing. Next I need to figure out how to make it do the thing on command.

My notes are in better shape. Hooray!

My plans for tomorrow are approximately:

* Make ice.
* Fetch strawberries.
* Wait for evening to set in.
* Take ice, strawberries, liquid, and a lawn chair down the waterfront and set up.
* Watch other people let off fireworks.
* Share strawberries as appropriate.
azurelunatic: A glittery black pin badge with a blue holographic star in the middle. (Default)
I mentioned to Purple in passing that I needed to get 9v batteries this weekend. "Smoke alarm?" he asked, knowingly.

Carmageddon asked me if I could help with a thing, if I had the bandwidth. I looked at the situation and knew it was basically fucked from the start. Some director had tried to set up a customer-facing thing on short notice IN MARCH without first securing the space it was supposed to be in.

Carmageddon saw the clusterfuck starting to happen and asked if I could intervene. By 2:30 we had determined that the first two choices for rooms were unavailable. There are at least three groups who control significant rooms. Two out of the three had nothin'. The third group? At 2:30-ish, I realized that the people responsible were probably already up in the gym for the beer bash of epic proportions.

The discussion about rooms had encroached on lunch; I spent a non-zero amount of my lunchtime responding to email on my phone. Unfortunately the email-to-ticket binding has broken for anything other than the initial query, which breaks mobile such-and-such for hella people.

I cleared up some other stuff and then headed for bash with a couple teammates. This bash was basically the "look! We're awesome!" theme, centered around t-shirts, because this is a company which produces commemorative t-shirts like they were going out of style (but naturally, only in straight-cut unless people yell about it). One of the featured bits of the event was an attempt to catalogue as many as possible of the commemorative shirts, by bribing the first 500 people who showed up wearing an existing commemorative shirt with a limited-edition new one.

I had seen Purple's shirt choice at lunch. The previous night, he'd contemplated wearing the hella neon green shirt with the camel (muddy yellow) overshirt. Sadly, the camel shirt had been a bit grungy, so he went with dark red, which provided a slightly more Christmas-y, slightly less eye-searing contrast. He explained over lunch about the time when he'd been wearing the slightly-less-neon Nvidia shirt with the camel overshirt, and I'd cast aspersions on his color sense, but he'd been doing it on purpose.

I set out walking with my teammates. Knives commented that I was carrying the cane, and she and the other teammate (perhaps I shall call her Huckleberry? she's the one who shares an office with the guy with all the muscles and the Hulk fists) mentioned that I am walking a lot better than I was this time last year. I explained that I still do use the cane and not just for beating: I start out walking OK, but after I've been sitting a long time I break, if I walk too long I break, and sometimes I just fall over.

The line turned out to be literally over an hour long. It was good I had the cane. It was slow enough that I could actually queue up the stairs, as it was one stair at a time for a few minutes. (Even though that's still not a good idea on a regular basis. I'd like to keep my knees, so I should not do stairs. Ever.) The project manager from upstairs brought back some (hard) cider for my section of the line. It was tasty.

And that's where the personal section of the evening started to go off the rails. It was about 3:30 by this time. Lunch had been some time ago. I had more than half finished the cider by the time I got to the photo area, where I confirmed that both the people I know by face who work in the conference center controlling rooms were busy with the t-shirt photography logistics. The event was scheduled to last until 6. There was no fucking way they would be able to find and approve us a room until sometime Monday early. It was a Monday event. Customer-facing. Well fuck.

Instead of going and immediately finding food, I went and immediately found Purple and radius. I did not wind up finding food until at least an hour after I'd started drinking.

The stomach ache did not start until about an hour later.

I had nice chats with several people, including radius, the guy with the sun hat who games and does photography (he's photographing roller derby this weekend), Mr. Zune, someone wearing a very green shirt with an inappropriate statement and telltale signs of having been folded up into a hockey puck (yes, *that* one, which makes just a *super* impression on college women that we're a great place to work), Chicken Guy (who had, hilariously, yelled "CHICKEN BUTT!" on the way past me in line, smacking me in the ass with a rubber chicken and causing me to nearly double over with laughter), Purple again (who took his leave and scrammed to head off to 2600), and then Mr. Zune and I walked back to our respective desks around 5.

While chatting with Sun Hat Guy, I juggled my plate wrong. I'd finished some of the weirdly fried ravioli and the asparagus, but managed to drop the bean-burger slider having only got one bite. I did not immediately go to replace it, my third critical error.

One back at my desk, I swore my way through the helpfully compiled lists of conference rooms all over my campus. The only regular conference rooms that were both large enough and placed so they wouldn't be terrible for visitors were, I only wish I were joking, "Batman", and Batman's counterpart room in the adjacent building.

By this time, the stomach ache was making itself very known. I realized that I would need to do something in order to halt it. I found 7-up and string cheese. This helped some. By this time it was 7. I wrapped up by making sure the equipment orders were updated with the last-minute changes, and doing my hours. (That last was made more interesting by landing on a "wtf, you shouldn't be here" page after attempting to save, resulting in me needing to enter them all again.) Then I left, grabbing some food through a drive-through on my way to the convention.

... Or not. By the time I was halfway home I realized that I wasn't sure if I could actually make it all the way to Walnut Creek without some sort of Digestive Incident, and I was in enough pain to be in no fit state to drive. So I went home, called the hotel to cancel my first night, and curled up in bed with a hot water bottle on my stomach and waited for the pain to ebb.

A few hours of sleep put me right. I'll head to the con in the morning.
azurelunatic: A glittery black pin badge with a blue holographic star in the middle. (Default)
Did I mention I got more BPAL? I got more BPAL. I ordered myself some labels off Amazon, and two more little boxes.

Got in early. Was scared I'd calculated my calendar wrong, but actually hadn't. I arrived at a few minutes after 10, but the customer call wasn't until 11. The researchers did their thing, so I was off the hook as far as notes went.

Lunch was nice. There were only bell peppers in like two of the things, and those could be avoided. Thank fuck. I had a burrito.

I first got into a ticket war with, and then avoided, a helpdesk guy. (He closed it saying it was a dupe of another. I re-opened it because my symptoms were entirely the fuck different. He IMed me. I set myself to away after about 10 minutes.)

I mentioned to Purple a crush I may have started to develop, on an engineer with no known disqualifications. Purple teased me gently.

Helldesk apparently did not dump a load of ghost notifs on me today. I am sort of surprised.

I promised Carmageddon that I could come in for notes for the Thursday late-morning research. Yay.

I am so, so, so proud of fishie, who has been doing things that she might not have had the nerve to do even three months previous. Based on a little bit of experimentation with a lowball dose of her anxiolytic, she may have discovered a dose that is still effective, but she feels safe taking while in a public place.

Purple has now encountered the Men Explain Things To Me article, and IMed me with thoughts as he was reading through it. He identified the largest number of clue-averse, Pathologically 'Right' splainers in his life as 'Nutrition And Health Expert' women. We discussed Oblivious And Pathologically 'Right' Splaineyness as a cross-gender trait. Then I asked him whether he would consider me a misogynist. He wouldn't, but saw my point that hating women was not a man-only trait. Then I mentioned that despite not actually disliking other women, I had in fact discounted the technical expertise of other women, just because I am so steeped in a culture which undervalues and dismisses women's technical expertise. Hello unconscious bias! Then he hit the part where none of the men who had condescended their ignorant asses off to this woman had ever actually apologized. He was appalled, because saying sorry is his first step when he's wrong. Then he dug a bit into some of the body language based biases he has, and how that has the potential to go wrong based on other common things. I like this one and I should like to keep him around.

I told him about BJ vs. the Phone Cord. Fuckin' BJ.

Pi Day is approaching. I expressed my hope for pie. radius expressed his pie recipes. I tagged his wiki page helpfully.

Purple declared that he was thinking about escape around 7. Around 7:15, I pinged him to see where he was. He could finish that up at home, actually; he'd be right there!

Five minutes later, and no Purple. I puttered around putting little things to rights (hanging up a phone left on a conference line for two extra hours, re-doing my calendar, doing a checklist) and he eventually appeared.

I have learned that one of the inevitabilities of having a Purple in my life is that Purple has a lot of friends. Purple knows a lot of people. Despite his best intentions, he can have unexpected hallway conversations that last an hour. I am occasionally the beneficiary of these. I am lucky enough to be a person with whom he enjoys quasi-scheduled parking lot conversations. There's only so much time in his weeks. So how can I actually complain when someone else gets some time? This time it was only about 15-20. He was still sheepish.

One of my nails got a near-perfect coat of polish. Since it was some good polish, it dried before it could get scuffed, and the top coat dried before it could get scuffed either. Showing off nail polish in the low light of the parking lot is hard.

When I got home, I labeled BPAL and reviewed my step count. March 4th = bump-up. Whee!
azurelunatic: A castle with rockets and fire cannons with the DW D on it. (Castle Dreamwidth)
Tuesday:

Came in early for the meeting between me and the helldesk people.

The meeting was not bad and now the vaguely project manager shaped person knows what the old ticketing system was like on a high level (High level overview of the security model: the person filing the ticket controls the "make this shit public/private" tickyboxes) and therefore why R&D feels this entitlement to see tickets related to public building areas of places that they inhabit. The engineer was sensible as always.

There are a few main problems:

* A lot of unrelated stuff is crammed into the same tower of responsibility because it's under the same management hat.
* Due to the back-end architecture, it is technically complex and perhaps unmaintainably tedious to grant public/private piecemeal amongst that tower of responsibility.
* Splitting them off into different towers at this point would be possibly fuckheadedly difficult.

Fortunately, the good engineer had a great idea.

Unfortunately, the next release is in April, and that release is jammed worse than the elevator at the Let's Ignore The Fire Code Fandom convention. So we're looking at May at the earliest, and of course it has a lot of possible things which could go wrong, so it needs extra testing.

Meanwhile, ghost updates continue.

I took notes for Carmageddon on his call with a small group of users.
Naturally, I was coughing while taking notes, until I punched a hole in the random lemon that was sitting on his desk and started sucking on it.

Then there was lunch, which Purple had called early, and I got to a bit late.
The cafe manager bought my lunch. She'd looked over the burrito station and gone a bit ballistic on them, because they clearly had not got the memo about not putting fucking bell peppers all the fuck over everything. I had, meanwhile, gone for whatever the wok was cooking. I could smell what the wok was cooking, and it smelled good. (I fished out the bell pepper chunks. You can fish bell pepper chunks out of stir-fry much better than a burrito.)

There was a meeting to discuss menu for conferences, which was supposed to be more of the committee, but wound up being just Madam Standards and me. Madam Standards was leaving a little later that afternoon for a road trip, so we made it brief.

No milkshake today.

Called helpdesk to complain about the 12 ghost updates which had just dropped in my inbox. Meanwhile, while I was on the phone, 6 more arrived.

Purple called time at a sensible hour. We walked out into the parking lot. We were nearly at my car (I'd parked nearer the building than usual due to my early arrival) when something whizzed past us from behind, quite close and very fast.

radius hollered at us from the bike, and circled us several times while making conversation and doing his best drunk bicyclist impression. We were amused. I giggled helplessly as he buzzed off into the night.

Earlier in the day, I'd issued what I'd felt was possibly an invitation to a flamewar on a mailing list. (Despite Purple's assumption, it was not [off-topic], it was an external list.) My feelings were that this one person had said basically 'hey you'll be working way over 40 hours on a regular basis PLUS you'll be pushed way past sensible performance limits, isn't that a great challenge?' and I thought this was a bad idea on par with giving Shawn a flamethrower in a barnful of hay. So I said as much, although phrased a little more tactfully.

That developed into a more serious conversation about overwork with Purple.

I called Dawn, who was having some family hard times. What is it with people's grandparents dying lately?

I came home to find that no one had taken me up on the possible invitation to a flamewar front, and there were several very thoughtful responses agreeing with me.
azurelunatic: A glittery black pin badge with a blue holographic star in the middle. (Default)
Monday:
Weekends always fuck up my sleep schedule. I did get six hours, and four hours of bonus nap on Sunday afternoon, but that wasn't enough, even though I did have nice clean laundry. That left me in a cranky as hell mood.

Purple worked from home, which is certainly a reasonable life choice for him to make (I didn't inquire as to why, and he didn't volunteer any information). That does make work a bit quieter and generally with a lower chance of hugs.

I popped into the cafeteria hoping that, having last week nearly actually started crying when one of the cashiers said something friendly about hoping I'd found what I'd wanted (I had not wanted a sandwich, I'd wanted a burrito, but there had been too god damn many bell peppers), that the message would have been passed on.

The problem with bell peppers:
Read more... )

The message had not been passed on. At the burrito station:

* Possibly-Spanish rice, garnished liberally with chopped bell peppers
* Light beans, garnished liberally with chopped bell peppers
* Dark beans, garnished liberally with chopped bell peppers
* Mixed grilled vegetables, with bell peppers as about 1/4 of the mix
* The meat I would have wanted, with bell peppers soaking in the juice
* The meat I would have settled for, if not for the bell peppers sprinkled over it
* The meat which probably would have had too much spice and/or tomato, but I might have tried, except that, too, had bell pepper all over it
* lettuce
* sour cream
* guacamole
* tomatoes, which I also need to be careful with Read more... )
* cheese
* various salsas, which, see the problem with tomatoes

At this point my blood sugar had started to do the thing. I popped over to the next line, which had chicken curry that I wasn't altogether certain about, but it was a short line and I was reasonably sure it wouldn't actually make me sick.

I stomped back to my desk and crankily picked at my curry. I knew that the bell peppers were not the thing actually giving me emotional flux, but they were certainly not making things any better. When I stomped off to the bathroom before declaring it time for a milkshake walk, I sobbed for about thirty seconds in the hopes that it would make me feel better. It didn't help much.

The helldesk thing is just complete escalating woe. At this point I've been getting like a few dozen ghost notifications a day, and the person who has been placed into a project management sort of role doesn't seem to understand why someone might want to be involved with someone else's facilities ticket.

Lunch being unsatisfying, I declared it time for a milkshake walk. radius stopped by my cube, and we went upstairs to retrieve Mr. Zune if he was about. He hadn't been about, but he was walking back toward his desk just as we approached. We waved him over, and he came with us.

There is still one peanut butter truffle taped to the local helpdesk door.

radius's weekend had included darning the little holes that a Macbook had chomped in his bright orange software-from-my-friend's-department t-shirt, and so he was wearing that. Mr. Zune and I admired the darning.

We greeted our faithful milkshake bunker commando, the one who knows me by name (but pronounces it subtly wrong in a way that no longer feels alien). I mentioned that I'd thought I'd seen him on Friday, but I wasn't quite sure. It had indeed been him -- there was a painful saga involving a malfunctioning trunk lift on a vehicle. There was bleeding.

I selected a cheese danish with a scoop of the chocolate-chocolate-chip ice cream, lactose be damned. (I believe I had in fact remembered to take my milk-pills this time.)

I related the saga of That Time I'd Not Recognized My Own Sister to Mr. Zune and radius. radius let me know that at some point in the future, "all of this" (his below-shoulder mane of mighty hair) was going away. He held up his badge for comparison/inspection. I studied it carefully.

Despite milkshake, I still had the headache.

I did hear back about the bell peppers. The cafe manager was apologetic and understanding. And then I told her about the various ways I had tried to give feedback. She became very apologetic, said she would get on the asses of those responsible, and could she comp my lunch the next day?

Purple's general understanding and patient qualities have been somewhat strained by the bell pepper saga. He is not actually sufficiently in the hospitality planning department of life to recognize that no, there is actually a problem when the same commonly averse/allergic ingredient is in all the dishes at one particular station. His position is that it's a common enough ingredient in the cuisine, it shouldn't be surprising that it's present. My position is: in EVERY GODDAMN DISH THO?!?!

There is research to be done, and believe me, I am still alive. I scheduled research participants. Yay.

At a reasonable hour, I decided it was time to pack up and go home, in part because I still had the headache. I said goodnight to Purple (who, happily for me, does show up on IM when he works from home) and went home.

Whatever I did to my hair, I regret it. I spent part of the evening brushing it out, with a spray bottle of oil to help the knots slide apart. I think part of the problem is that some of the ends have reached an awkward length.
azurelunatic: Dreamwidth is powered by [disco ball] (dw disco)
Friday:
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: A glittery black pin badge with a blue holographic star in the middle. (Default)
Thursday:

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: A glittery black pin badge with a blue holographic star in the middle. (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 http://www.lauralemay.com/fiction/the-deadline.html 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: A glittery black pin badge with a blue holographic star in the middle. (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: California poppies, with a bright blue sky and the sun. (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 [livejournal.com 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: A glittery black pin badge with a blue holographic star in the middle. (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).

#cupcake:
(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: A glittery black pin badge with a blue holographic star in the middle. (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: A glittery black pin badge with a blue holographic star in the middle. (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.

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