azurelunatic: A glittery black pin badge with a blue holographic star in the middle. (Default)
It turns out that my dinner crew can get from "I'm not going to make this rude gesture because there are children present" to "Donald Trump could fist ducks" and it took less than 5 minutes.
azurelunatic: Axial tilt is the reason for the season. (Festive red & green text; diagram of Earth's axial tilt.) (axial tilt)
09:10 PM Thursday, December 29, 2016
Plan for Friday: chill with Purple before dinner.

Could also get half-and-half.

Thursday, I tested the UI on the daylight lamp, and found that it had failed to turn on this morning due to it not being intuitively obvious when something was activated, and also the directions kind of suck, and the UI also sucks. Perhaps it'll wake me up Friday morning.

09:18 PM Saturday, December 31, 2016
Chilled with Purple before dinner. Half-and-half (and other groceries) waited until Saturday. The daylight lamp turned on both these past mornings, and was turned off with a moan. Apparently the part where it wakes me up is too effective, and I can't be having with that in the middle of a sleep cycle. Also Saturday: Ordered a new phone, since mine is fucking dying.

Friday: I slept longer than I planned to, and then wandered over to Purple's. He was watching some keyboard tutorial videos, which were actually fascinating. Partway through, a cat jumped into the lap of the guy doing the demo and began washing his hands. It's a small enough community that Purple knows the cat's name.

We then watched Mystery Men, since Purple had mentioned it to me but we'd not watched it. It was cute for what it was. He paused at the business card of the weapons guy, as I'd gone "... Chicken rentals?!?!" which made some later bits make a little more sense.

Purple called Ms. Antisocialest Butterfly to arrange dinner. He'd assumed that she'd be working, because she's her, and had thought of a few places on that end of town. However, she'd been working from home, so those were no longer convenient. We settled on a time and place. There was a little more time left, so we watched some Key and Peele.

After that was dinner. We got there early. Ms. Antisocialest Butterfly was late, on account of El Camino Real had suddenly developed a hilarious thing where none of the southbound traffic was moving. My meal came out substantially underdone. At a decent place, I'll chance a medium-rare steak on occasion. I do not prefer to chance a medium-rare hamburger, and could have sworn I'd asked for medium-well. (Purple could have sworn so also.) We wound up getting some extra dessert, as well as a do-over on the burger.

Purple and I watched some more Key and Peele, followed by what he swore was a Christmas episode of Black Mirror. It was "Nosedive", and while the word "Christmas" was uttered, it wasn't specifically Christmas-y. Uniquely for Black Mirror, we found ourselves giggling helplessly by the end, and in a lovely mood. I totally ship it.
azurelunatic: A glittery black pin badge with a blue holographic star in the middle. (Default)
Saturday: very quiet, stayed at home, a certain amount of chat with partner.

Sunday: went to my aunt's to gossip and watch GBBO and Frasier. This was put on pause when Infamous Cousin, his girlfriend, and two friends showed up to pick up Boat.

Boat is a dog. She's a German Shepherd (perhaps a mix?) with one constantly upward-pointed ear and one ear that mostly flops but sometimes flaps and points when she's doing radar-ears about something. She is 70 pounds of complete love, love that wants to hug you without your permission and share your peanut butter. She's also dog-reactive, got separation anxiety, and has recently learned how to climb 8 foot wooden fences. (Her rear legs were off the ground and front legs were over the top, according to my aunt.)

My aunt very much misses the poodle.

Monday: also quiet, wrestling with sleep schedule and preparing for Fishie's visit and chatter with partner (always). Plus some undignified laboratory homework.

TMI )

Today: whooooo boy. Aforementioned lab drop-off, then I picked up [personal profile] quartzpebble and we went all the way out to the back of beyond to talk with the sleep neurologist who wasn't Dr. Asshole.

Appointment went okay. This doctor wasn't at all sure what to do with a patient whose depression is rapidly and *extremely* worsened by sleep deprivation (she inquired with some urgent concern whether I was feeling like that now, as she'd have to report that; I was not; she recommended that I see my psych crew to get that taken care of, which MISSED THE POINT ENTIRELY, that if I follow her instructions I'd probably need to be taken inpatient, and if I don't try to fuck with my sleep schedule, I'm pretty much all right except pretty fucking disabled due to the level of difficulty I have maintaining a modern business type schedule), and whose AD(H)D interferes with any and all "sleep hygiene" things that amount to "just get fantastically bored and you'll go to sleep", and whose budget does not presently include a CPAP. (Also, the mouth appliance thing costs more than a CPAP, and stuff in my mouth when I sleep is a hard limit after the misadventures of 1996/1997.) And there's some advice (not all of which can be followed and keep me sane), and there's a CBT class (cognitive behaviour therapy, not the other one), the contents of which I will be running past my Top and perhaps also my morail, as they are among the safeguards against me putting stuff in my head which needs to not be in there.

I only cried a little.

Soooooooo... compared to the appointment with Dr. Asshole, this went astonishingly well.


F and I had a few misadventures in finding a place for food. We settled on a diner. Lumpy's was closed already, since it was a Tuesday. Digger's was astonishingly difficult to find. I refueled, then we finally located it. The sign is not night-friendly, and very stylized.

Food was good. One of the great things about a diner that plays oldies and classic rock -- very little chance of getting the Wham!


The drive back was pretty much uneventful. Except now [personal profile] quartzpebble smells enough like Purple that I kept getting the "Oh, there's Purple!" pings in my brain. THIS IS WEIRD.

My partner called when I was on the way home, and we talked about stuff. Logistics for some things are difficult.


I talk to my (prescribing) psych tomorrow, and I'll probably poke Purple for dinner. Whee!
azurelunatic: A glittery black pin badge with a blue holographic star in the middle. (Default)
Dinner was just Purple and me, since his friend had the plague. We went for burgers.


Among other things, we discussed the difference between a douchebag and a douchebucket (unused solution vs. used) and whether a group of geese was a notch below or above actual pandemonium (literally all the demons). I voted that geese were probably worse. "Demons won't usually try to grab you by the junk and kick you in the shins with their wings."

Purple argued that since demons had wings, they just might.


I explained the way my partner and I get some of our communication done. We were on silent video chat and they were making a gesture that was meant to be sexy. I corrected the form. We can have educational discussion even without words.


We discussed how to get rosewater infused butter to try on an English muffin, which led to more silliness in the parking lot.


My partner called on the way home. The ex is still terrible. Whee.
azurelunatic: A glittery black pin badge with a blue holographic star in the middle. (Default)
My brain has been acting up on me, and last night was not the greatest of nights. (I was, in fact, reminded of 1999.)

Then I went off to dinner with Purple, who gently observed that I seemed to be about half-speed, then held my hand while we complained about politics. He had a touching level of faith in the unwillingness of Indiana parents to not ask for their children to be tortured in the name of Getting Straight. And I provided some thoughts on the torture facilities euphemistically known as "wilderness survival camps" and their ilk.

And I got back home, and found that my sweetie's dating site profiles very cheerfully mention a primary partner. Me. I am touched beyond belief.

So a mixed bag, but getting better.

💙💙💙
azurelunatic: A glittery black pin badge with a blue holographic star in the middle. (Default)
Monday was a quiet day. I had dinner with Purple. It was unremarkable, other than the way I was a little sneezy.

A little sneezy turned into explosively sneezy and then my sinuses were an impassable wall of woe. I got approximately three hours sleep, out of 7+ horizontal.

Tuesday was not a great day. I realized that I should not be driving anywhere. I also had a care package to send, a package to pick up, and building plumbing problems. I made the best of it, and walked to the post office to grab a shipping box.

On the way there, the sleep department in Oakland called me to let me know that they saw that I had an appointment in SSF, did I want to take that appointment in Oakland too? I wasn't near the computer, so I had no idea; I wasn't expecting the call, and I had three hours of sleep. I had no idea, and very little vocabulary to put things together. I informed them to email me.

I sent a care package of old tech off to my Gentle Caller. The great thing about flat rate boxes is, it's the same price to send a small box with three bits of old electronics as it is to send that same box with three bits of old electronics, two plastic bracelets with a plastic recorder and a plastic maraca each, a baggie of glitter, and a handful of dark chocolate.

And that was only Tuesday. )
azurelunatic: A glittery black pin badge with a blue holographic star in the middle. (Default)
Things which have happened recently, an incomplete list:

Saturday the 10th: Seanan book party, where I hung out with [personal profile] afuna beforehand, attended cheerfully with [personal profile] tiferet and [livejournal.com profile] geekhyena, and then had dinner with [personal profile] tiferet after. I hastened myself home after that, as there were many details about my post-surgery recovery that suddenly needed discussing with a friend.

Sunday the 11th: The LF's 20th birthday! Hooray!
Went over to [personal profile] quartzpebble's for dinner, gossip, and general funtimes. I washed some dishes while [personal profile] quartzpebble prepped dinner. There was gossip. Later, we played with makeup.

Saturday the 17th: [livejournal.com profile] theferrett book party, where I was late because BART was fucked up (construction on the train tracks between my station and downtown SF), but Fun Was Had. I ran into W, and realized that a) I had not been introduced to her husband, and b) I was already nodding-acquainted with him from previous events, many of them Seanan events. (He's the well-dressed guy with the neatly-wrapped long hair.) I caught her up on Major Life Events. I chatted with people! I said hello to [livejournal.com profile] theferrett; yay meeting people From The Internet! There was afterparty planned. We went to the same place that Tif and I had gone to the week previous. I wound up at The Fun Table, and met someone named Flitter and renewed my acquaintance with Z, who turned out to have some hobbies that I had not heretofore been aware of.

Sunday the 18th: some very nice conversation with a friend, and a certain amount of wrestling with technology to make it do what we wanted.

Yesterday:
Called Purple to check if dinner was a possibility; he had been running errands and staying home, and therefore dinner was not a great idea. I am fairly sure I got teased about my surgical recovery process.
Called Darkside to check in on things. Darkside has Opinions about Certain People, and they're not terribly printable, either. We also had a cheerfully smutty discussion in which he teased me about my surgical recovery. Darkside is the greatest.
Poked [personal profile] sithjawa about Matters Esoteric, in case Things Get Weird, Again. Also some other parties.

Today:

It turns out that when the topic of a 3D-printed, glow-in-the-dark clitoris comes up in IRC, you're going to get pinged, if the person who finds it is [personal profile] kaberett, and you and they have been engaging in This Sort of Thing As A Hobby for ... five years, now? Hilarity ensued.

Also in Matters Esoteric, it turns out that while I may be Somewhat Rusty, I still have a decent enough understanding of structure and purpose to take a rather baroque and Ceremonial sort of thing, inquire politely into local concepts, and hopefully deliver a viable alternative.

Instead of going to the happy hour I'd considered, I had dinner with Purple. Also with phone and phone's kid, who's now in Year 10 (Australian); we can use bad language in front of him because he's been in an Aussie boarding school and those will corrupt you right quick. He appears to be one of the local student techies, and thus following along quite firmly in the old man's path. He is one of the people who is *visibly* techie, so people keep poking him for tech help. He needs an apprentice. (He apparently already has one.)

Having been introduced to phone's favorite little place on California Avenue earlier in the summer by me, Purple now has it on the regular rotation. We're both in favor.

I spent a little less time chatting in the parking lot with Purple than I otherwise might have, and went home in a good mood that was somewhat marred by technology fail. (First, the cell signal was eaten by 280. Then, the watch-based dialer failed to load. *Then*, the headset had disconnected from the phone when the return call came. And once I had rebooted the headset, the watch dialer didn't do the thing again, either.)

But then I was home, and technology-related fail was less of a thing.


Some links:


http://www.redwombatstudio.com/portfolio/orcus1/orcus-chapter-one/
Fiction; contains some nice fun excessively controlling parental "love".

http://wiki.dreamwidth.net/wiki/index.php/Book_of_Wholesome_Hobbies
A perennial bit of ... inspiration, I guess?
Tags:
azurelunatic: A glittery black pin badge with a blue holographic star in the middle. (Default)
I got an appointment for Tuesday the 16th to make sure that my incisions were not infected. I learned that I didn't need to take my entire top off for these things if it was loose, that the incisions were not infected, that they weren't sure which surgical tape they'd used, but whatever it was, I shouldn't use it again.

They were claiming it was the adhesive. I disregarded the precised details of this claim, as the irritation which could be traced to the tape was only at the top and bottom edges of where the tape was and not the sides or the entire area covered by the tape. Therefore it must have been something in the cut edge, and not in the bottom layer of adhesive or in the bound edge.

I got an internal exam, where they peered at the stitches. The first speculum didn't let them see properly, so a second one was brought out. I had my typical reaction to pelvic exams, with a bonus former-cervical-area discomfort, as they'd disarranged the area just a bit. (Plus the bad reaction to overdoing things had annoyed it on Saturday night.)

They discussed the lab results. This is perhaps not the conversation to be having while wearing a shirt and an exam drape over your lower half. They discussed the general type of follow-up appointment I'll be needing.

I used the iPad to "scan"-and-email the lab results to the top recipient on my needs-updates list. I called [personal profile] norabombay and left a message.

Chatted with people.

Went to dinner with Purple (as it was a Tuesday, and I had warned him that I might need human company for after) and had various terrible conversation. (He is terrible, and should feel terrific.) We looked over the diagnosis together. I ... may have cold-spider-ed at him pretty hard. (He may have also held on to me quite a bit.) He also made terrible, terrible jokes. I told him about my typical reaction to pelvic exams, and how that at least had not been substantially changed by the operation. More terrible jokes.
azurelunatic: Scissors cutting film. NaNoWriMo 2004 (Home Movies from the Cutting-Room Floor)
I was Feeling Not Quite The Thing into the afternoon, and fell over for a nap sufficiently substantial that I had nearly no time to run the errands I'd planned to. I was going to meet up with Guide Dog Aunt for a movie this evening. (Wednesdays are no good: she has Boat that night. Boat is her granddog. Boat has enough German Shepherd to be a terror.)

I started having what may have been hot flashes over the weekend. Small ones. (Mumble) did the responsible-and-helpful thing (genuinely) and poked me to poke the doctor's office about it. I emailed. (They called me at fuck o'clock on Monday morning, left a voicemail saying I should call them, but just in case because I'd said that the phone was "hard" -- I'd said that the phone was the worst way for contact, in fact -- that they'd email too.) Their return email said that I should take my temperature twice a day, and if anything hit above 100F, to take my temperature an hour later, and call them immediately if it went over that.

FRIEND NURSE, I ASKED YOU ABOUT HOT FLASHES. THIS IS THE FEVER INFORMATION YOU HAVE GIVEN ME.

Also, since I haven't had a child living with me in ... ages, I did not in fact have a functional thermometer.

It turns out that iPods do not like playlists with All The Stuff on it. And that turning off podcast syncing will in fact empty the iPod of all podcasts. This means that re-syncing takes about an hour, if it's the old-style thing and you've got about 5-6 gigs of audio to get back on the thing.

So just as my aunt was finding a parking space, I rolled in with my new thermometer and some cold groceries to put away. We then zipped off to the library to find some movies of mutual interest.

On the way, I gave her the update on the Latest Information On My Social Life. This included a super awkward conversationsecurity: filtered about a delicate topicsecurity: filtered, lasting basically until we got through the library doors, and commencing again once we left. *facepalm* Family, gentlefolks. Honesty can be helpful. Honesty can also be utterly embarrassing.

I had not, in fact, seen Pride and Prejudice, though I have certainly read the book. Guide Dog Aunt thinks Matthew Macfadyen resembles a young Dylan Moran, and I can see the resemblance.

IRC on the iPad, and a keyboard in my pocket, kept me moderately chatty with the usual suspect(s) during quieter moments of the movie.

The house is in moderate chaos. The solar panels are on the roof; tomorrow's the day when all the electricity gets shut off in order to hook those in. (I registered a charger for some electric vehicle or other. I think Woodworking Uncle may have a new toy.) Guide Dog Aunt's kitchen is getting renovated hardcore. There are boxed-up appliances shoved in the parlor, and the two big chairs have been replaced by something a little less murderous on the back.

As I headed out, I saw a familiar black-and-white striped rump and tail disappearing under the porch. My aunt had thought that the underside of the house had been rendered sufficiently inaccessible to skunk-kind. Apparently not. And she's got Boat (the shepherd with no chill) tomorrow. Fortunately she's got about a gallon of skunk-wash on hand...

Next doctor's appointment is Tuesday morning, in Oakland. [personal profile] quartzpebble plans to meet me there, for backup.
azurelunatic: A glittery black pin badge with a blue holographic star in the middle. (Default)
I am gathering evidence for my qualifications as Wonder Admin. This includes my principles for group catering, and surely more. (Anybody know of anything I should include offhand? Or topics for more Admin Storytime with Azz?)


Dinner with Purple and Ms. Antisocialest Butterfly. Next week is first Friday, so next week I'll see less of Purple. This weekend is unlikely to be greatly sociable on Purple's part, as he's pretty zonked.

Purple was running late. I didn't run afoul of feetball traffic. We poked Purple gently about his phone. It had been a long week. Purple diverted the discussion to his couch. (On which he has sat naked, he points out. I continue to react convincingly.)

The sweet potato fries with the marshmallows and so forth were stared at as an abomination. We did not get them. We did not have silverware, either. I was best-positioned to stare down a server, so I did that. "Wedgie" in terms of food just sounds wrong.

I don't have dates for the next set of medical shenanigans, but the next round of appointment-giving is due to start next week. Somehow, and I'm not entirely clear on how, this turned into a discussion of how large a Yule tree I could actually become a stand for, assuming the Yule tree went where no Yule tree should go, and not considering the actual weight of the tree, just the size of the trunk.

Purple has commenced conveying greetings to a remote party, on the idea that the remote party is likely to remain present for quite some time. He also made some truly terribly filthy joke which I wish I could remember; I had to roll a will save against telling him I loved him for that. I'm sure he'll make it again at some point.



[personal profile] norabombay and I were talking about the literally years of training that goes into the generally-women's skill box towards taking good selfies. I was thinking about it on the drive to dinner, and because of the ubiquitous nature of Beauty Culture, one of the unacknowledged skills that most little girls learn is how to make a pretty face in a mirror.

There's all this time spent staring at your face in the mirror and making it do things, making horrible faces and faces of every emotion and looking at expressions from multiple angles to see which expression is best for what viewing angle. But because it's part of the general background noise of being groomed to become a woman in Beauty Culture, it's simultaneously assumed as a given, and the level of effort and hours consumed are dismissed as important, because of course it's not important, it's just vanity.

I have no idea what my genuine, first-reaction smile like I would have smiled as an un-self-conscious toddler would feel like, now.
I may still have it.
I may not.
I don't know.

I do know that my smile, the way I hold my mouth, the way I hold my face -- all of these are the result of extensive training and experimentation, all with the aim of either "being beautiful", or with the aim of not getting picked on at school, or the aim of Not Looking Funny, or getting Bugs to stop being a dick. (Bugs was the freshman year boyfriend who drummed on my head. Resting Bitch Face wasn't a thing when I was a freshman, or he would have told me that I had it. He did tell me that my neutral face looked cranky, or angry, or something, and that I should hold my face with a slight smile at all times, because that would make me look more pleasant. And to this day, my "neutral" face is not actually neutral. It is a very slight smile, to turn my natural frown into a straight line.)

So, yes, it should not in fact surprise me that when someone who has not been immersed in Beauty Culture since the age of knowing the difference between boys and girls goes to take a selfie, that maybe it doesn't come out so great.
azurelunatic: A glittery black pin badge with a blue holographic star in the middle. (Default)
Friday was the usual dinner out with Purple and Ms. Antisocialest Butterfly. I had no idea where I wanted to go, just that it shouldn't be too far. Purple picked a place not too far from old-work.

The timing worked out such that when it was time to actually leave, there was a conversation that I was in the middle of that I didn't want to just bail on. But the other party to the conversation was aware of my schedule, and adamant that I should not miss dinner on their account.

We wound up talking on the phone. It was a good conversation, running the full course from the usual sort of daily grievances we discuss, to the sublimely silly. By the time I hit the parking lot (and got pinned in the car for a few minutes as the van next to me loaded up their kids) I was giggling again, and went in to see Purple with a silly smile.

I was a little spacey through dinner, partly as the result of nice conversation, and partly because I was still just very tired and quiet and didn't have very many things to say about Game of Thrones.

Purple and I chatted in the parking lot, as is the custom. I headdesked at him some. He was encouraging, and just enough of a sarcastic bastard.


Sunday was the birthday, I believe the 30th, of one of the guys from the ghost team. Most of them are based in and around Palo Alto, so many of their dinner meetups are on a half-hour's notice, which is not quite enough time for me to get from schlubbing around the house to out the door, let alone from Pacifica to Palo Alto.

This time, there was early notice, so I found something comfortable and set out at the appointed time. It was a place I hadn't been before. The tiny parking lot was overfilled, and there was nowhere to go but back out onto the main drag; you couldn't go on the back street and circle around. So I found street parking, and jaywalked over just in time to encounter four of the other five of us who were coming.

Three of them are roommates, which can often be entertaining. 2/3 of the table was playing Pokémon Go. Mr. P and I were the holdouts.

One of the themes of the night was scallops. The guys enjoy their seafood. They also enjoy their steak. One of the guys had been debating whether it would be scallops or dessert. "Scallop cheesecake!" I contributed, cheerfully.

The concept was not well-received.

One of the guys is apparently notorious amongst the crew for eating at approximately the same rate as Zeno said that Achilles chased the tortoise. Except he would have started off as the tortoise. This had the effect of slightly delaying dessert for everyone else. By the time he was in fact ready to order, all of the good-natured chirping from the table caused him to say "Cheesesteak" instead of "cheesecake". Hilarity was the order of the moment.

I ... may have a mild crush on Mr. P. He is a very quiet geekfolk who appears amiable and with a wicked sense of humor when he has something to say.

I got to talk with Dawn on the drive home from that dinner. It was good to catch up with her. I had a few things to say about a situation that one of my friends is in. They were ... not especially good things. It was good to have that conversation, too.


Neither Purple nor I were quite feeling the dinner thing Monday, so we decided to retry on Tuesday.
azurelunatic: California poppies, with a bright blue sky and the sun. (poppies)
Thursday the 30th, I was finally feeling recovered from the trip (mostly, if not entirely unpacked) and elected to go to the farmers' market with Guide Dog Aunt for the first time in ... quite a long time. Our schedules have not worked out for that for a while. We caught up on stuff, especially all the fun I'd had at the conference. She really liked meeting Purple, and the sense of her commentary was such that I may have to explicitly mention that no, we are not in fact kissing friends.

Friday is the day that's often got beer bash and dinner with Purple and Ms. Antisocialest Butterfly, but neither of those seemed to be going on for the 1st. I had a quiet evening at home, which was still welcome after the hectic conference week. Purple is enjoying some jet lag, and of course first Friday is 2600. We'd had our Wednesday dinner so I was feeling sufficiently caught up to not worry.

Purple might have had plans for the 4th; if he didn't, I was going to ask if he wanted to come over and watch the fireworks from the beach. That didn't turn out to happen, but [personal profile] quartzpebble came over. We had hot dogs and cucumbers and tomatoes and cherries and blueberries, drank tea and bourbon (both separately and together), and entirely missed the fireworks due to staying inside with the food, fiber arts, and rapid exchange of information.

I had the traditional dinner with Purple on Tuesday the 5th, and we discussed many topics.

Now that the worst of the conference pressure is over, I've been commenting in more communities and journals again.
azurelunatic: the Golden Gate bridge.  (san francisco)
That was a really nice birthday!

There was stuff on the internet when I woke up. I love the Marmalade Fish, and my fishchildren in particular. I had put blue dye (and a touch of purple) on my bangs before going to bed, and had covered it with a scarf. I put more blue on the ends of my hair for a while, then showered it all off before heading out to party.

Guide Dog Aunt & Woodworking Uncle had been helping Infamous Cousin & his girlfriend paint. The girlfriend has some very definite ideas about color, and is implementing them full-steam-ahead. I showed up first, then my aunt and uncle, and after a little while (and I was nervous as hell) there was a knock on the door and the top of a very familiar head visible! It was Purple!!!!

Purple asked if he could help out; Guide Dog Aunt mentioned retrieving some folding chairs from upstairs, and proceeded to give some directions which even I (and I know the house) couldn't particularly follow. Purple looked super confused. "Cousin the Younger's room or Infamous Cousin's room?" I ask. "Infamous Cousin's." So we went up together. "I wouldn't have found it based on those directions," Purple confirmed.

I curled up at the far end of the couch with my crocheting, and Purple took the other end and stretched onto one of the nearby chairs. There was conversation and laughter. Guide Dog Aunt was very concerned with Not Being A Jerk with the food, and had gone out of her way to unnecessarily avoid dairy products. (My level of lactose intolerance means that I should not drink a whole cup of milk without the pills. I can add milk to coffee or whatever without having a noticeable problem. I can definitely have most cheeses without pills. Guide Dog Aunt decided that we should not have pizza because I am lactose intolerant and I shouldn't have to tolerate the cheese on my birthday.) Guide Dog Aunt somewhat guiltily said that even though I didn't deserve to have tomatoes shoved in my face, she had put out tomatoes anyway, because they were so delicious. I allowed as how yes, they were delicious, and I had no problems with food that I couldn't eat being present as long as it stayed in its lane -- now, if the tomatoes were exploding and getting all over everything else, I'd have a problem. "Or a bell pepper juice fountain," I mused. "Or walnuts."

Guide Dog Aunt zipped out of the kitchen and quickly reclaimed a large mason jar. She'd forgotten about the walnut thing, and had put some particularly fine and delicious walnuts in a jar for me, in addition to the chocolate she'd gotten for me, because the walnuts were great and she wanted to share the love -- having forgotten which nut I can't have. Purple snickered at that, and allowed as how his friends also forgot which nut he couldn't have, and would sometimes proudly go "We made sure there were no almonds in this for you!" ... which, thanks for the thought and effort! ... but almonds are delicious to him, and it's the wrong nut???

"Oh, which nut do you have problems with?" Guide Dog Aunt asked.
"Walnuts," he said.
"Matching nut allergies! A match made in heaven!" Guide Dog Aunt chirruped, and spirited the walnuts away from our end of the room.

In addition to Dazzle the now 10+ year old blue poodle, my aunt was guilt-dogsitting Micah-from-next-door, who is this ancient and somewhat malodorous foxy-looking medium-large dog. Her people were off out of state for a thing, and the last time she was at a kennel she refused to eat, blundered into things, and nearly died. So my aunt feels like she kind of has to watch her when her people leave...

R and JD showed up next, in fairly quick succession, I think? R was delighted by the pleasant temperature in Pacifica, as the South Bay had hit over 100F by the time she'd left.

Woodworking Uncle drifted in and out for a bit, but eventually wound up upstairs away from the assorted chaos.

Little bits of internet kept filtering in. There was an email from Darkside. "Ooo, email from [Darkside] in Arizona!" "What's [Darkside] in Arizona up to?" Purple wanted to know. I read the email quickly. He's gone from phone goon to bench guy, restoring the laptops of his co-workers to working order. Yay!

I told R the grim tales of Fishie's internship misadventures. R was super sorry to hear about it, but also, Missouri ("Misery", Purple chimed in) and certain types of terrible tech dude. Alas. :( Though I have given my Fishmumly Approval that Fishie should perhaps mention to Certain Terrible Dudes that she goes to judo classes to help with "her problem" with "accidentally punching" people who get in her space and startle her...

JD had brought games (I have decided that I am in favor of the kind of party where you ask people to bring games that they might like to play) and we played a round of Taboo before dinner. There was general hilarity, and it turns out that cards that were produced more than a decade ago have not blocked some of the modern helpful synonyms. ("Cable" involved me saying "last mile, internet, not optical older than that, xfinity, comcast")

There was dinner, followed by cake. Guide Dog Aunt had decided that with the number of people confirmed, there would need to be two small cakes, so there was a key lime cake and a chocolate cake. JD had the task of placing the candles. Everyone who was not me or JD had the task of lighting. Guide Dog Aunt had matches, and she and R lit candles to use as igniters. Purple had the bbq lighter, but had some troubles with it. JD was filming it all.

They sang. One of the slightly awkward bits with someone who has a complex name situation is, what name do you use when singing? Purple sang "dear Azure", quite correctly. :)

And then there was cake. Mmm, cake.

Gaming re-commenced. When he arrived, Purple had handed me a very small silver bag with silver snowmen and blue tissue paper, with a gentle apology for the wrapping, but it was what he had. I had giggled and put it aside. Read more... )

Guide Dog Aunt had said that there was a hard end to the party, because bedtime, so after the round that had started before 10pm finished up (after 10pm, of course), I mentioned bedtime. And so we started trying to get cleaned up. It had not been a particularly untidy party, so there wasn't that much to do.

Everyone seemed pleased to have met everyone else, and the refrain seemed to be "glad to finally meet you, I've heard so much about you." Purple apologized to JD for not having been able to make it to Eurovision. The Eurovision party had been more low-key than JD had been figuring on, as it's often balls-to-the-wall glitterenthusiasm.

It turned out that JD was on [personal profile] quartzpebble's way home, so that carpool worked out. Purple consulted the map on his iPad to figure out how to get back the way he'd come. Guide Dog Aunt sent the bread home with me, and I got my stuff (bread, games, bag, flowers, crocheting) loaded up in my car, and had a last round of chat and hugs with Purple before he leaves for a month.

Even though I've been making sure that my place is tidied to at least Purple-safe, the "I have to still do laundry and finish packing, but I guess it's mostly under control" moment is not the time to say "hey, do you want to afterparty at my place??" but I was just pleased as hell because omg he came, he had fun, and everybody got on. Everybody else, it would have been sad but okay if they'd not gotten along with my family. But Purple? Purple is super important.

I was home just about at 11, as my watch nudged me with the "hey, it's 11!" update as I was walking down the path.

I think Guide Dog Aunt thinks Purple and I might be dating? It's ... not a bad assumption, just incorrect in a few particulars.
azurelunatic: Blue-iced cupcake with sprinkles.  (cupcake)
Dreams which are Just Not Fair, Yo:
Read more... )
Waking up out of that is not fair.

Thursday night's dinner was at a place I'd not been before, but immediately decided should be added to our dinner rotation. I shared with Purple, who was in accordance, but also doubted how much parking there'd be on a Friday night. I think perhaps we'll try it some early weeknight.

🍻💜🍰
It was beer & shenanigans night, so I went down to hang out with some of the crew. R saw me first, and wandered over to say hi. She has a set of headphones similar to mine now -- she saw mine and decided they were amazingly cool (I have my doubts about the headphones but they're handy) so she got some. Hers are blue too. Purple arrived, and then Mr. Tux. Purple was late because he was saying goodbye to Mr. Netflix, who is headed off somewhere. (Perhaps he and J will be co-workers soonish?)

I saw W walking off towards the gym with her iPod and gym bag, and waved. She came over to the fire pit to say hello; we cheerfully continued our conversation about that brief window of time in 2010 when it was possible to get near-complete access to someone's LJ account using this one weird trick, and why internal documentation is super important.

I saw the Singing PM wander past, and hailed her. She met Mr. Tux, who is on the other side of the atrium in the same building as she is.

Eventually I happened to glance over at the right moment and saw the retreating ponytail of lb. I hollered after him, and he wandered over to say hello and spend some time chatting. There was various hilarity.

Read more... )
azurelunatic: Chickens saying "Cluck Cluck Your Mother's" (cluck)
Been a while since a proper update! This is not quite a proper update, but at least it's substantial?


"I found whistles, maracas, 5 hour energy, coffee mugs, headphones, and a cellphone charger, but I did not find the other webcam."


Faceblindness! It's fun for the whole family! I'm not sure if I've properly told the "some woman" story about my faceblindness on DW as yet, but it's become my go-to story for "no, really, Rev. Lunatic is faceblind" though to be fair, Mama says that it took seeing Tay walk (well, bounce) in the airport to recognize her, since she's changed a lot.

However, in compensation, I have a small non-face-related superpower. I had a really fun encounter in the past year-ish where lb showed me some photos from his mid-90s college crew, and I was able to identify lb in a group photo where lb himself wasn't quite sure which of two people he was. This was based on my knowledge of how lb stands, and another photo which established what lb was wearing. Read more... )

I cannot perform this party trick with just anyone, but I can usually spot Purple in very large group shots if I know vaguely where he was in the crowd. Sometimes it's based on a sneaker. (Purple wears white sneakers that trend increasingly towards grey and ragged until he gets replacements. He also lounges ostentatiously, Kirklike/catlike. I find both somewhat endearing, but I would.)


One of my forms of comfortgoogling is chicken pictures. Current small pet peeve: when any old picture of a hen on a nest is used to illustrate "broody". Broody is a very specific state of chicken, generally characterized by unwillingness to get off the nest and hoard eggs, and sit there until the chicks hatch. Broodies are cranky, will cut you, have flattened themselves on the nests with wings slightly out away from their sides, have their necks pulled way down into their feathers and their tails raised so usually the tail-bump is higher than the head. They make a characteristic rhythmic "clook ... clook ... clook ..." noise (similar to the syllable of the rapid "buk-buk-buk" tidbitting noise but more spaced out, and more relaxed than any part of the "buk-buk-buk-buk-ba-DAWK-et!" alarm call which often follows egg-laying, fox sighting, bush rustling, or Disturbance in the Force). If you try to steal their eggs, they will growl/roar and also try and cut you.


Fishie is finishing up sophomore year at college. (OMG, how time flies.) She'll be 20 soon. She's majoring in computer science now, and doing things like acing the midterm where the median grade was ... not super great. The teacher for that class will be pleased to write her an academic recommendation, and says that she'll be able to do anything she puts her mind to. I am so proud of her. She works so hard, and she's getting so much better at picking her battles. She has been figuring out her summer activities: after finals, she goes to her internship Down South. After that she may wind up going to see her grandma, and after that, spending time with a friend in San Diego.

The concept of "like 5, 6 nice" has entered our dialogues because Fishie's Terrible Mom #yamappendix would make a big deal like "I AM BEING THE NICEST PERSON EVARRRR BECAUSE I LOVE YOU SO MUCH" when doing normal and expected things. So when Fishie encounters people who are being genuinely kind, she is equally floored by small kindnesses that don't inconvenience others, and big kindnesses which do inconvenience others. It's all pegged at like 10 nice for her, when someone with a scale that isn't at "Mommy is an abusive fuckwad Read more... )" might view it as maybe a 3,4 nice.


For those who don't dwell anywhere near Silly Valley and also aren't tapped in to the latest tech tat, "hoverboards" have been A Thing for a while. It used to be that there was just the one dude at work who rode one around, and he was proficient and discreet except for how he was going pretty fast and kind of gliding. Now, of course, many tech bros with more money than sense either have one of their own, or have access to one. Thus it was that one dude who I IRC with wound up in the ER one fine evening after doing a wipeout on his hoverboard while at work. In a subsequent all-hands at his company, there was a safety admonishment about unwise hoverboard usage.
Tech Bro 1: "haha bet I know what happened."
Tech Bro 2: "hahah yeah I heard about that."
Tech Bro 1: "sucks that K had to go to the ER tho."
Tech Bro 2: "wait, K had a wipeout too? I was talking about X."
Tech Bro 1: "Oh, what happened with X?"
Multiple hoverboard collisions in one week: not a good thing.


One of the best days of my young life was the day my father brought home a label-maker. It was a about the size of a large typewriter. I recall it having a few large font wheels. We started labeling everything. We kids dubbed it "The Advance", because it had a large key labeled "Advance" in place of an Enter/Return key. The key fed blank tape.
One of the most tragic and terrifying days of my young life was the day when the label-maker caught on fire. I saw black smoke rising up out of it, and immediately began screaming and jumping up and down. Fortunately it was winter. This meant that the appropriate response, which my dad immediately took, was to unplug it, pick it up (it was smoking, not flaming) and hurl it out the front door into a convenient snowbank.
After that we didn't have a label-maker anymore.


"I feel like both of these perspectives are valid, but they're not compatible."


Being around a whole whackton of other non-binary-gendered folks has helped me focus my gender identity feels some. It looks like the identity that best fits is agender. Non-male-identified, though sometimes I present masc and sometimes I present High Soft Femme. Though maintaining High Femme feels kind of like the thing where you're clamping down in the vain hope that you won't bleed all over everything before you get to a bathroom with supplies.

"... a bit of a radfem (without the skateboard)" (said of a radical feminist who might not so much be the "raaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaadical, duuuuuuuude!" kind)


Hard problems in gender, privacy, and community safety: where is the line between outing and community safety, when you happen to know that someone who has Caused Problems Before is in a community [a different one] under an identity that is at least slightly discontinuous with their old one, and the new identity is tied to a gender marker change (and the old identity is really most sincerely dead)? (Tentative answer: take it case by case and hope you get it right.)


Once upon a time, Reverend Lunatic gave themselves hiccups as the result of an orgasm. Once not that long ago ... Read more... )


I have started watching the Great British Bake-Off, finally. It is so charming! I appreciate that all the contestants and guests are treated respectfully by the editing and camera, in a way that US television rarely does. And it's just so amazingly sweet!


Now that the conference is wrapping up, I'm down to just job-searching with a side of wrap-up work, not job-searching AND ALL THE CONFERENCE. This makes more time to tidy. Last fall, I'd decided to re-arrange my apartment. It got halted halfway through, and the result was nothing short of chaotic (though better arranged for certain things like sleep and computer). I decided that enough was enough, and I would work slowly but steadily in the direction of making it guest-appropriate. It's been coming along nicely, though it still is like a bit of a wacky game of 2048, where you have to calculate and carefully merge two things into the same space without upsetting anything else or making anything important too hard to reach quickly. This has resulted in random acts of mending, because part of this is seeing problems and fixing them.


My favorite hair ornament is a little basket of wires that's secured with two long metal spikes with glass knobs at the ends. Unfortunately, our relative heights are such that when I wear it, I spike Purple in the face with it when he hugs me goodnight. I have determined that I will seek alternate updo-securement, and have located a thing or two which should work better. Purple was a little "but you didn't have to -- it didn't draw *blood*!" when I showed him. :>
azurelunatic: A glittery black pin badge with a blue holographic star in the middle. (Default)
So I headed off to phone's party! phone lives not that far away from the conference venue, and the party was already swinging pretty vividly when I got there. I found parking (leaving a space behind me) and came in, bearing a small potted rose and the tray of sandwiches. The apartment was cheerfully decorated visible from outside with some delightful purple fairy lights. The level of sparkle visible from without was only a hint at the level of sparkle within. phone's boyfriend answered the door. He is an elegantly flamboyant man of a certain age, with a flair for striking outfits and costumes. On this occasion he was wearing a skin-tight silver jumpsuit with a mesh sweater over top and also amazing high-heeled silver holographic boots. He was not the only person wearing a super-sparkly outfit that night, as there was a guy in a long robe and top hat both made out of flat-sequined silver fabric (with reflectors larger than my beloved late disco ball dress, but similar). There were all sorts of colored sparkly lights. I got a drink and found a chair in the corner, where I wound up chatting with Jen, who has a small flock of chickens and a number of amusing (and occasionally terrible) stories involving them. Exactly my kind of person. Her husband was also at the party. phone tried to troubleshoot the rainbow fairy lights.

I texted Purple to let him know I was there, since I hadn't seen him. He texted back to say he would be there in about 20. And in about 20, I saw his silhouette through the patio door, and then he was coming out back and saying hi to phone and taking his accustomed place next to me. We had a silly exchange and he ruffled my hair. When he wandered off to grab a drink after a while, the party shifted around, and a small crowd gathered in my corner. I noticed him come back with drink in hand, notice the crowd, shrug, and strike up a conversation with someone near him. I wasn't bothered: Jen and I were getting on quite well.

Jen is a non-techie. phone's boyfriend is a non-techie. Jen, Jen's husband, phone's boyfriend, and I got in a discussion about some of the ways that conversations involving techies can go. The phrase "I need sympathy, not troubleshooting" can be key. (I looked fondly over at the very nicely sympathetic techie holding the neon green drink, holding forth on some topic with phone.)

The party shifted again, and sight lines between Purple and me were restored. We flashed an ironic wave at each other, and Purple made a semi-apology for not having come back directly that matched my assessment. (And, again, I'd been having a great time talking to Jen, so it wasn't like I was completely on my own at this party, even though I knew three, now four, people there out of quite a few more than four.)

It turns out that not only was Jen's husband at the party, but Jen's husband has known phone for years and years and years online, and has also known Purple for years and years, but this was the first time they'd met in person. The meeting was pleasing to both of them, and I was delighted to witness it.

It began to get chilly, so everyone went inside. I had already passed my step count for the day, so standing up was not the best idea for my back, but it was the best idea in light of the crowd. I wound up in the kitchen chatting with Jen's husband, tucked comfortably in a corner at Purple's elbow. There was enough light, finally, that I could see what was on my plate. I sighed and showed Purple some diced bell pepper. He laughed at me, and explained to Jen's husband that I had been in an un-merry war with work catering over bell peppers.

Jen's husband changed places with phone's boyfriend, and desserts were sampled. Someone found the raspberry bars; Purple nabbed one; I asked if he could pass me one; he handed me the first while claiming another for himself. Raspberry bar relay. Despite my back's complaints, it was nice being there: insulated from the most intense bits of crowd, but still engaging.

phone wandered up and chatted with us while his boyfriend circulated. People started filtering over to say goodnight to phone and wish him happy birthday, including the guy who had been wearing the disco ball robe until he'd changed back into street clothes.

At length the party size shrank, until at last it was phone and his boyfriend, Jen and her husband, Purple, and me. I was in one corner of the couch, Jen was curled up next to me, and eventually her husband sat down at the other end. "Fuck" is not just a spice, it's punctuation, except most editors would take a red pen to that many punctuation marks. It turns out that when Jen and I get going, we might sort of feed off each other a bit. phone likes it when I swear about the helldesk software, because when I get going, I really get going. Sometimes I get somewhat creative beyond the mere f-bomb, too...

At one point someone claimed that the iPad was not a data entry device; I declared that one could helpfully render it one by means of a portable keyboard, and that I had one in my pocket. Purple claimed that I had too many things in my pockets. Someone, perhaps phone, made a "Precious" joke, and my hand diverted its path. I had been going for the pocket that contained the keyboard. I was now going for the shorts pocket with the little brocade box with the mirror inside: the one that just that morning I had loaded with a few BPAL vials, a USB stick, my pair of shiny peacock earrings, a lip balm, and other bits of jewelry that I hadn't wanted to wear while possibly hauling tables around at the conference. Including -- I held a shiny silver ring aloft. phone cracked up.

Shortly after midnight the party broke up. Purple had parked right behind me, so we walked out together. He stuck around while I fished through three bags in search of my satnav, which I found in the last place I looked for it, then very carefully dodged the spikes in my hairdo after hugging me goodnight. I'm not usually quite so spiky!


To say "this party was better than any of Shawn's parties" demeans this party merely by the comparison, but that's the only referent I have for some of the vibe. This was what Shawn's parties wanted to be when they grew up.
azurelunatic: A glittery black pin badge with a blue holographic star in the middle. (Default)
So Saturday plans were: go down to the shared workspace that the nonprofit has some space in, orient my volunteers, then see what Purple was up to.

Turns out that in fact it took an entire 6 hours for my old laptop (which is the traveling one, now) to download and apply 2+ months' worth of updates. I was actually able to get some work done on it in the meantime.

Later on in the afternoon, getting towards evening, someone poked his head in the door. He was wondering if I knew where there might be a public toilet?
I did a quick risk assessment and said that I hadn't the earthliest, but would he like to use ours? So he did, and then asked what organization I was with, with implications of "and maybe do your org a solid" so I gave him the info, and he gave me his card, and it was one of those nice little being-kind-to-fellow-humans moments.

I called Purple and checked in; he was in fact up for dinner. We set a time. Then one of the volunteers was running late, so I bumped it out by another half-hour. I brought the computer out opened up and set it on the passenger seat to complete its updates. When I parked near Purple's building, I saw that it was asking for a reboot. So I told it that it could reboot, then locked everything up and went in to say hello.

Purple was on the phone with a friend who was shopping for srs bzns camera lenses. I excused myself briefly, then settled in on the other end of the couch with my phone to check up on the various things the internet had been saying in my absence. (And again with the second call.) By the time he was finished up with that, I had gone through my internet, so great timing.

We went in search of dinner. He had a place in mind, and lo, it was tasty. There was the usual amount of giggling.

I wound up telling him about a case of mistaken identity from a mutual friend. A mutual friend had seen the name "Purple", had seen the tag #AzureLsInTrouble, and had come to some understandable (but incorrect) conclusions. Hilarity ensued. Extra hilarity ensued when I told him about it. That gave way to a thoughtful discussion about some meta-issues around the specific type of mistaken identity.

Then we were back at his place, and we settled in on the infamous couch to watch some Dead Like Me, some Black Mirror (the one with the Willow Grain, in which I reflected that lawyer-boy ain't no Simon Illyan, and that I feel good about my life choices), and then some Black Books and Parks & Rec as unicorn chaser. We wound up pausing the Black Books episode with Manny clinging to Bernard's ankle as he heads for the door for the following exchange:

Azz: "Ahh, that reminds me of a Shawn incident."
Purple: "Er... what?? And ... which were you?"
Azz: "Did I not tell you that one, then?"
Purple: "Apparently not! Were you the one clinging, or the one being clung to?"
Azz: "Shawn had stolen my condom."
Purple: *erupts in giggles* "That still doesn't tell me which one you were."

My ideal vision for this weekend had included the concept of some time spent on a couch with a friend, leaning on each other and both reading, and I am happy to say that substituting watching well-picked TV works nearly as well.

Purple introduced me to the spider over his door. He's not sure if it's a real spider or just a shed exoskeleton, but it doesn't hurt to be polite! (Especially at that size.)

Next week is going to be ... a bit hectic. zomg.
azurelunatic: A glittery black pin badge with a blue holographic star in the middle. (Default)
It turns out that when you start at a place of "sometimes tech support does the Wrong Thing" and go through "Internet Explorer lets you do the cool but unsafe things you want to do, but also lets the bad guys do them too", you can wind up posting a poll on Twitter about frequency of naked/bare-assed (towel-less, for the courteous nudists amongst us) couch-sitting.

It all started with Ms. Antisocialest Butterfly's terrible customer service moment at work. She is naturally terse in her communications, and doesn't really bother with saying things which should be self-evident. Her workplace has these coats (some variety of lab coat for hardware geeks) and a service that they pay rather a lot of money to clean and maintain these things.

She noticed that hers was getting variously ratty -- missing button, a torn pocket -- and wrote a note: "Please replace." She signed it, and stapled it to the coat so it wouldn't get lost.

When the laundry came back, she found her coat. Same button missing. Same torn pocket. She was baffled -- until she found the name tag. They had replaced the name tag.

This prompted tales of some of the shenanigans that can ensue when least-good tech support and customer service ensues, including my epic fight with tech support over some java. The relevant bits were about trying it in IE and messing about with the settings.

Purple pondered about IE, with the general concepts that sure! IE is great for doing a lot of things that you want to do -- and letting the bad guys do it too. (Oops.)

"Yeah, you can shove that website straight in your trusted zone," I snarked.

Purple debated me on this: he wasn't entirely sure that the buttockal regions should be the "trusted zone"; didn't most people distrust things emanating-- ?

The discussion skipped into the topic of couches.

"Doesn't everybody?" Purple asked, meaning, sit on the couch butt-ass naked, or at least, well. Minus towel.

I facepalmed extensively. "I've SAT on your COUCH!" I said to Purple, in (entirely put on) tones of Great Betrayal.

His response was very much a sorry-not-sorry. I undermined my Performative Woe very shortly after, asking after his weekend plans in a way such to announce my intent to invade his couch if that was all right with him. ("That's what clothes are for..." I said in response to Ms. Antisocialest Butterfly's wish for some form of barrier to put between her and places where anyone else's butt has been.)

We went through the bestworst method of dyeing Y-fronts to disturb the TSA (even-ish tea underdye, with a second round to add more splatter, vs. the red tie-dye effect...) (passing the broccoli test by simultaneously saying "red" is ... maybe not the best way to pass the broccoli test). From Ms. Antisocialest Butterfly's dawning horror, it was clearly time for a subject change. We looked at her. "So how about that weather?" we asked in perfect stereo. She remarked upon it.

It turns out that key lime pie gets harder to share when you have two people stabbing into it tines-down from two different directions. At a certain point the inertia of the rest of the piece of pie is no longer sufficient to keep it in one place. Cooperation ensued, with one person holding the pie still with their fork while the other one pulled a bite away. We split the last bite amiably.

"That Weather" made for a short farewell. It was raining fairly firmly. Purple hugged me and we chatted a little, then we split.

I do so love rainy nights.

I am trying to get caught up on housework, in addition to work-work and applying for jobs. A little bit at a time, go me. Today I dug out the stepstool and a 9v battery and replaced the battery in the smoke detector before it started chirping at me. Go, me. (Stretching to reach it was painful and terrifying, but I did it.)

My impostor syndrome around guerrilla QA is pretty well faded. I used to be surprised when I found myself engaged in chasing down a random bug for a thing that I was using. I'd genuinely thought that the only system I'd ever have that kind of expertise on was LiveJournal. Purple met me when I was still regularly surprised by it. This time, I found myself explaining to Purple that really, the only thing I found surprising about the bug documentation I was sending to Slack was the universally friendly and helpful attitude of the Slack customer care people.

You could perhaps see the lightbulb emoji flickering into yellow above my head. Not quite an hour later I found myself additionally going:

04:30 PM azurelunatic: I think any job application where you can point to "and this is where I've interacted with your technical support" as an additional reason to hire you is possibly a good one
04:35 PM azurelunatic: my answer to "what is the importance of manual qa testing?" includes "it's really hard to annoy an automated test suite"

This weekend will involve waking up much earlier than I'd like to be up, viewing the Computer History Museum event space, and doing other work stuff on Sunday. After that's over, I'll poke Purple and see what he's up to. I hope to then invade his couch. ^_^
azurelunatic: A glittery black pin badge with a blue holographic star in the middle. (Default)
Purple and I kept trying to connect for our now-traditional midweek dinner but kept missing. Monday was supposed to have been a conference meeting with R, but it got delayed until Tuesday, so Tuesday was out too; Wednesday neither of us was feeling it quite. So it was today.

There's this little place that I know Purple and R and I have been before; that's where Purple suggested today. (I think our fourth that time may have been the Other Guy? or maybe phone? or zune? idk. It was the time R was complaining about some of the bus-related tour shenanigans on one of her vacations.) Purple was up for that place again tonight, and I was amenable. So we went. I was running a little early, and called him. I was just being led out to see a table when he arrived, and we settled down to contemplate what exactly we wanted in the way of food.

We wound up splitting the rissoto of the day and a four-seasons pizza (olives, artichoke hearts, mushrooms, and some sort of pork-based preserved meat). Purple ordered a drink, and I claimed a sip. That was not the best idea -- the rum was very much on the top. He sloshed it around and I got a second sip, which was nice and gingery. (Mr. Bananas had had lunch with pickled ginger that day, which got Purple in the mood for something with ginger, and the drink was just the ticket.) My current relationship with alcohol )

It turns out that the phrase "make sure you don't have any olives down there" is possible to interpret in a dirty fashion. (Purple does not enjoy olives. I do. Therefore all the olives were mine, and it was my responsibility to remove them from the shared slices.) Purple laughed at me as I removed an olive from his piece.

It turns out that when you're trying to validate that about 10 terabytes of data copied over successfully from your old NAS to your new NAS, it can take about a week once your tool is working. Purple's adventures continue.

I'm not sure how the topic came up, but he mentioned some work by some actress who'd been in things that go over his grossout humor threshold, and (since the topic was right there) apologized again for subjecting me to Drawn Together. I pointed out that he was much better than BJ in the department of regrettable media, as he had suggested it in good faith (it does contain many concepts I'd enjoy!) and upon realizing that I had not enjoyed it, reassured me that I could and should safeword out at any time, and he wouldn't hold it against me except that he'd keep my preferences in mind for future recommendations. (Which I don't really count as "holding it against me", but potato potato1.) Purple resents being put in the same category as BJ (or Shawn, really) on much of anything, as it's ... rather a low bar. "Hi, you're a decent human being." Which ... point.

We were both contemplating dessert. Half a dessert each. He was in mind of the bread pudding, as it wasn't as frightening as one might think, but we wound up having cannoli after some debate. Mmm, cannoli. There were bits of candied lemon peel in the cream, and I had to have a moment.

"What?" Purple asked.
I looked over at him in surprise.
"I thought I just heard you squeak?"
"Lemon peel again."
"Ahhhh."

I mention here for the sake of documenting my Complicated Feelings About Things: Lengthy feels. )

While we and some others had been eating outside, a great big white van had pulled up in a somewhat traffic-and-parking obstructive way, and a guy in well-worn work clothes and a safety vest had got out with equipment. I had overheard something vaguely about waiting to start until after "these people" were done eating. Around about when we finished dessert, the guy hauled a little portable generator over and plopped it on the hood of a car (presumably his?) and stepped in the puddle of mysterious liquid on his way to get at some of the other equipment, disturbing the surface enough for me to tell that yeah, that was pee there. He then pried open a 6-inch or so access cap of some type. Water, and not clean water, burbled forth and started overflowing the sidewalk into the gutter.

Purple and I decided that now was a really great time to split. So we headed garageward. He'd parked down on the bottom, but he decided he'd walk me upstairs to my car.

Read more... )

Of note: that guy in a certain social group who does that "your mom" jokes a lot, was sort of oblivious to the other guy who had said "my mom's dead". DON'T DO THAT. Purple contributed that one of these days Mr. Antisocial Butterfly is going to get socked pretty good for making the wrong "your mom" joke to Purple.

And I will see him tomorrow! ("It's forever!" he joked at me, and I immediately stifled the impulse to declare that he was being Pippin.)



1 Backwards. On roller skates. ^

Profile

azurelunatic: A glittery black pin badge with a blue holographic star in the middle. (Default)
Azure Jane Lunatic (Azz) 🌺

February 2017

S M T W T F S
    1 2 3 4
56 7 891011
1213 1415161718
19202122232425
262728    

Syndicate

RSS Atom
Page generated 23/2/17 09:20

Style Credit

Expand Cut Tags

No cut tags