azurelunatic: A glittery black pin badge with a blue holographic star in the middle. (Default)
So I had the occasion to attempt to describe a certain former big-boss, a certain notorious retired marine, to the Renaissance Man. "Like 50% of John McAffee," I settled on.

It was a useful and evocative unit. Later [personal profile] norabombay and I discussed it. A six McAffee problem, unlike a three-patch problem, would be resolved by removing McAffee units from the situation, rather than deploying patches until the number was reached.

Sadly, having this usage reach common jargon levels would probably give the dude an unnecessary ego boost...
azurelunatic: Computer with a wind-up key captioned "Which version of STUPID are you running?" (tech support)
(repost from [livejournal.com profile] techsupport: http://techsupport.livejournal.com/2063144.html)
I worked for about a year and a half as tech support at a little domains'n'more shop in the Phoenix area, before I up and moved to California. After moving, I went back through all my journal entries and came up with a list of rules.

Things Azz (or Azz's co-workers) Shouldn't Do in the Workplace:


  1. Must not knock over computers in the training room, even if they are just where a stray foot can push them over.

  2. "A great big truck" should never be included in any description of how the internet works.

  3. When specifically excluding "a great big truck" from discussions of how the internet works, should wait until instructor's mouth is no longer full of coffee.

  4. Must sign out for breaks with something at least resembling her legal name.

  5. Must not claim the last name of "Lunatic" when calling Tier 2, because they will take me seriously and get mad when they don't find me on the list.

  6. May not throw beachballs at the heads of teammates anymore.

  7. May not throw beachballs over the heads of teammates anymore.

  8. May no longer violate the airspace of the nearby Quality Assurance cubes with:

    • beachballs

    • frisbees

    • frisbees-missing-their-centers

    • hackey-sacks

    • Nerf footballs

    • Nerf baseballs

    • ...anything, really
    Read more... )
azurelunatic: The Dreamwidth.org 'd' logo  (Dreamwidth)
The places formerly known as 'work1' and 'work2' have been re-tagged as 'workplace: domain shop' and 'workplace: survey hell', respectively, on the Dreamwidth side; I've sort of given up on tag maintenance on LJ.
azurelunatic: Computer with a wind-up key captioned "Which version of STUPID are you running?" (tech support)
The first part of my list.

Going through looking for the actual suggested SMTP responses in LOLCAT, not the silly web responses like 403.2 Not Recommended, led me to compile some of the ones that were missing; this installment is because I'd rather not have it kicking around in a text file forever and I have to shut the computer down to head out.
  • Not allowed to let the call queue get a comma in it, just to see what would happen.
  • Not allowed to hold a "beauty pageant" by getting the names of the other team sharing our building on third shift, looking them up in the employee directory, and voting on who looks the nicest in their employee picture.
  • Not allowed to send back the customer's email corrected for spelling or grammar. Sending it back with corrections for technical accuracy is fine.
  • The 2nd shift supervisor is not allowed to play MMMBOP where anyone else can hear it.
  • Not allowed to chuck a cold turkey at a jet engine, to see if it will mess up the jet engine. Leave this to the Mythbusters.
  • Not allowed to ask the customer if we've met on the internet before, even though I see ONTD open in two tabs on her screenshot.
  • Not allowed to point out the inherent contradiction to a customer who is claiming to have awesome web design skills on their website, which has broken CSS.
  • Not allowed to tell the guy who is hosting the entire immigration database for his country(!) in a secondary directory of some low-rent hosting that he should really get a private server. Am allowed to tell him that he shouldn't include the username and password in the email he sends us.
  • Cannot agree with the customer who calls the WYSIWYG website application "a bad dream and a virus all rolled into one", no matter how much I want to.
  • Not allowed to attempt to look for a good time on 86.75.30.9
  • Wherever I send a customer that our department cannot help, it had better not involve a handbasket.
  • Allowed to assign sarcastic names to canned responses in Clippings. Not allowed to ever reveal said names to customers who are getting the canned responses. (One of the best: "Our website doesn't like you very much either.")
  • Not allowed to watch the video of the helicopter dick while at work.
  • Not allowed to mock the plight of the customer whose secretary registered his domain and has all the information for it, but the secretary is now in prison and not available for communication, and the domain's owner-authenticating information is therefore unavailable.
  • When the team lead says "Numbers", this means that they are about to announce our stats, and not a request for us to start telling them arbitrary numbers, and the coolest arbitrary number will not win any kind of prize, no matter how cool it is nor no matter how many digits of pi I have memorized.
  • Not allowed to get into a fight with an autoresponder.
  • Not allowed to attempt to duplicate Han Solo frozen in carbonite with the 2nd shift supervisor.
azurelunatic: A glittery black pin badge with a blue holographic star in the middle. (Default)
Sometimes, I think that some parts of this must be the best of all possible universes, for I would be hard-pressed to imagine one better. (Other times, not so much, but this is one of the good times.) Part 1: dinner!

Friday night, there was the Dreamwidth Open Beta Party at the Delancey Street Restaurant. I got gloriously lost on my way there, because a vague disclaimer is no-one's friend when it comes to public transportation, particularly public transportation where the correct connection information varies depending on time of day. Happily for me and my sour mood, my pathetic nod to "Trying to Communicate" resulted in a direct message from [personal profile] jd, a desperate call back from me, and subsequent directions back down underground to seek train-time. I arrived safely, albeit late.

Attending were: [personal profile] ataniell93, [personal profile] jamoche, [personal profile] damned_colonial, [personal profile] litotease, someone with long green hair whose name I did not catch, [personal profile] zdashamber, [personal profile] emceeaich, [personal profile] cynthia1960, and me. There may have been someone else as well.

On my way there, some more Dreamwidth as compared to LiveJournal similarities/differences had struck me, so I was tumbling those things over and over in my brain. There was game-chatter. There was fandom-chatter. I networked with [personal profile] emceeaich a bit (and downloaded Second Life, much to my amazement, upon returning home). Partway through all of it, I got a bright idea and started grinning like a maniac as I scribbled bits and pieces down. No, not fic or game, geek meta, an expansion on some of the stuff that had been forming on BART. There was locality-chatter, and ancestry, and all manner of fun.

There was dessert. Glorious hot fudge sundae, how I love you. Oh, iPhone, how you taunt me, there is no way to set a custom tone for the arrival of a text message for a single sender. (If there had been, I would have assured myself of the instructions, betaken myself to my computer, recorded "HEY MARK! HEY MARK! HEY MARK!" on the good microphone, then packaged up the lot to send to [personal profile] synecdochic so she could tamper with [personal profile] zorkian's phone while he was sleeping, awaiting the next text message from nagios. Oh, how I amuse myself.)


Upon arriving home, life abruptly became less-awesome, as my friends page brought me the unwelcome news of Gordy (Mr. Out)'s death. It still doesn't seem real, quite. I tried to figure out Second Life and then started compiling my tribute (which his mother found on a Google trawl this evening).
azurelunatic: "Where's the goddamn NERF BAT when you *really* need it?" Animated cartoon tech support loses her cool.  (headset)
I present this as a cautionary tale. Usually, when you have people who are new to the internet, or whatever field they're just coming into, there is a selection of normal mistakes. Most people will wind up making a few of them over the weeks and months that they are getting comfortable with this new experience. Usually this is one or two at a time, and when it is one at a time, it is usually something that can be recovered from with relative ease.

This poor customer? Not so much.

He wrote in very confused and upset, stating that he had purchased something, a domain or hosting (he wasn't sure which, because he said he didn't quite know the difference between them) but it was supposed to be [his organization's initials].com, but although his card had been charged for a certain amount, there was nothing within his customer account, and the email that he got free with it was not working, so could we please contact him at this alternate email, and if he was in over his head could we please just refund him as he was starting to think this was too complicated and all he wanted to do was put up a website for his business.


I looked in the customer account he had provided. No purchases. I looked at the customer account he had provided, and saw right off why the email was not working. Sure enough, he had set the email associated with the customer account, the email to which we send all account notices, as [his organization's initials]@[registrar name].com -- which addresses are reserved for employees, so he will never receive mail at this address, because he does not have the power to create it, and our admins will not create it for him. Leaving aside the problem of not knowing that the email address free with domain is not created automatically, and must be set up.

A common new customer problem involves the accidental creation of multiple accounts. Our system makes it very easy to make a purchase and create a customer account -- a new account is created upon purchase if you haven't signed in to the existing account that you'd like to use! It just prompts you for account creation information and off you go! So people will create new accounts, have their login cookies time out, and then purchase something, blissfully unaware that they've bought it in another account until they get that email message saying that their purchase has been made, here's the customer number, and they're looking at the new customer number wondering what the actual fuck.

I looked for the domain name he thought he'd purchased. Not registered. At all. Anywhere. Even with a competitor. Couldn't find the account that way. Dammit. Must have been hosting. I was on the verge of asking him to provide any email receipts he'd received for the purchase, and the last 4 digits of the payment method associated therewith, so Billing could sort him out.

... email receipts. Right. To the address that doesn't exist.

Happily, our good fellow had entered the same nonexistent @[registrar name].com email address for his second account in which he'd actually made the purchase, so I could find the account. Oh, good, and it was a domain (which does not require further setup to locate) versus hosting, which requires setup with a domain name before you can use our account recovery system to find the proper account.

...wait, he'd registered a domain, but the domain he said he wanted still existed? Yep, misspelled. And he was blissfully aware that he'd misspelled it. And you've got to know the domain name to use the account recovery system, and you've got to have an accessible email address on the account to use the account recovery system.

Happily, the security code he had included was the one that gave me the power to change the frakking email address associated with his customer accounts. I told my team lead that I wanted to change this guy's email address on his behalf NOW, rather than faffing about with asking him if he'd like to, because the email address he had upon his accounts was impossible and he would have no other choice but to change it. My team lead is a sane god among excellent team leads, and granted me permission to do so. So I did so. And then I used the misspelled domain name in our automated account recovery system to send the guy account information about the account in which he'd actually purchased the domain, and then I sat down to explain to him, in exhaustive detail, just exactly what he had done wrong and what he needed to do to fix it, but in language that acknowledged that all of these mistakes were in fact normal newbie mistakes ... just he happened to have picked a winning combination of them. I also recommended our WYSIWYG website program, because NO EARTHLY WAY did I want to attempt to explain HTML to this fellow.

All told, it took about half an hour to resolve this.

Since these things require follow-up just for sanity of the techs involved, I did check back on that ticket before leaving. The guy had written back, thanking me for sorting everything out, and sounding far more confident about his ability to actually do this website thing. Warmfuzzies.
azurelunatic: Pool noodle inscribed with "Frickin' Clue Bat" (frickin' clue bat)
I'm coming back from lunch, or break, or something. So is Mr. Out. We erase our names from the whiteboard, and we are heading back to our individual desks.

Suddenly, out of the blue, our supervisor starts yelling, loudly, at Mr. Out to not freak out, and to stop it.

Everyone who had been working and not noticing anything going on start taking notice.

A: "Huh???"
Mr. Out attempts to explain: "I was running with scissors."
Me: "Well, stop it!"
Mr. Out: "But I'm Edward Scissorhands!"
Me: "Put 'em in your pockets. Then you'll be Edward Scissorpants, and you'll have a lot more to worry about."
Mr. Out cracks up.

Balls.

1/11/08 09:48
azurelunatic: Abstract blobby colors, captioned "Thesis thesis DRUNK" (thesis thesis drunk)
So I had a squishyball that had a clear outer casing surrounding a blinky thing and a bunch of colorful squishy balls. I took this in to work. Now, the clear outer casing was somewhat gummy. There is carpet fuzz.

...anyone who was guessing that this led to the thing being called the "hairy ball sack" would be right on the money. Specifically, since I had brought it in, it was *my* hairy ball sack.

The guys started tossing it back and forth to try and stay awake. Playing with my hairy ball sack, check. Magnus aimed poorly, and smacked Chappy square in the forehead. Teabagged! crowed they.

Magnus wound up stretching it over the internal blinky thing, rupturing it. Yep, busted my balls! So I pulled the internal balls out. Some were green, some were blue, some were pink. Magnus and Chappy decided to see what would happen if they chewed on the balls. Evidently they tasted gross (I am not surprised). I advised Chappy to wash his mouth out with soap.

That was just the highlights. As it went on for some time, by the end of it all we were very punchy and it had gone past uncouth into absolutely hysterical.


This is what Halloween was like.
azurelunatic: A glittery black pin badge with a blue holographic star in the middle. (Default)
In the last 24 hours, I posted the following to Twitter:
  • Saturday, 1018: I am being decisive.
  • Saturday, 1444: :D http://www.thymecube.com/
  • Saturday, 1515: 3 hours of sleep yesterday made last night at work an adventure. Happily, was hopped up on caffeine.
  • Saturday, 1528: @popefelix Just got a mental image of you texting while crowd-surfing. Hilarious image but bad combo I think
  • Saturday, 1556: Last night at work was moved to interpretive dance to express my feelings for the previous rep on a ticket. Not a nice dance.
  • Saturday, 1556: Previous rep said customer had called in and had the issue handled. CUSTOMER HAD NOT.
  • Saturday, 2152: "Stayin' Alive" ideal beat to follow when practicing CPR: http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/health/7678371.stm


Follow me on Twitter.
azurelunatic: Computer parts made of gingerbread.  (gingerbread motherboard)
So at work, our Team Leader mentioned that he was turning 21. I casually wrangled the date out of him, and noticed that it was one of his days in. In fact, it was that very next day (well, values of 'in 26 hours' that evaluated to 'next shift'), so I got busy on IM.

I am an instigator. Magnus is a ringleader. Chappy comes up with insane schemes. Somehow, we concocted the idea of a cake, composed of all the snack cakes we could get our hands on, purchase to be distributed between the participants. They ran with it. )

Our team lead was massively surprised, and had to snap a picture.


Cake Macro
What happens when our team lead turns 21
Creamy Candy Corn Filling
Our team lead hates candy corn. :D
Cake Macro Creamy Candy Corn Filling



Our team lead got the first piece, then we all grabbed something. Work continued. There were some leftovers for first shift, and I brought the cake dome home the next day. It was good times.
azurelunatic: "PIE DOESN'T HAVE TENTACLES!"  (tentacles)
Remember the bodysuit? Fashion designer Donna Karan, who changed the way career women dressed in the 1980s, turns 60 today. Office dress codes have relaxed since then, but every workplace has its own rules. What passes for appropriate where you work? Is there anything you can't wear to work?

http://www.livejournal.com/misc/latestqotd.bml?qid=576
[Error: unknown template qotd]

I do believe that I am too young to remember the bodysuit. I was living isolated from much of the world (without television, with radio) in Alaska for much of my childhood, and thus pretty much missed the US pop culture of the 1980s.

I could get away with shorts and a Thinkgeek t-shirt at work. Quite a few of my co-workers do. I don't, because these days I prefer a long skirt and I haven't built up a collection of shirts as my last job didn't allow printed shirts.

We can't wear drug-related clothing, as the guy with the Jack Daniels shirt found out. I'd probably get stared at if I came in wearing full business armor (which I don't own). I'd get stared at if I came in wearing pants, come to think of it. Or color.

This really means that I need to see if they're still making that frog fabric on the brilliant turquoise background, and duplicate a skirt from my teenage years.
azurelunatic: A glittery black pin badge with a blue holographic star in the middle. (Default)
In the last 24 hours, I posted the following to Twitter:
  • Thursday, 0757: http://tinyurl.com/3lxz2d & http://tinyurl.com/4uf39s
  • Thursday, 0950: <3 #lj_s: http://tinyurl.com/d6jm7
  • Thursday, 2017: ... I just had to type the phrase "my straight cousin who only kisses other boys because the girls find it hot". Gender equality closer.
  • Thursday, 2025: Have, uh, come out of the closet at work (not that I was particularly far in). However, "I'm only 25% dyke" is not particularly ambiguous.
  • Thursday, 2029: Fu:What is this feeling/so sudden and new/I felt it the moment/I laid eyes on you/My pulse is rushing/My head is reeling/My face is flushing
  • Thursday, 2147: whee work time, and I forgot to get fruits earlier :(


Follow me on Twitter.
azurelunatic: Teddybear that contains ethernet switch.  (teddyborg)
[livejournal.com profile] afuna and I were discussing some of the most roundabout ways to get information from one place to another, based on something she encountered at work:

nothing says "easy" like a link that points to another link that points to a form on a page!

This got me going, and we got progressively sillier. The eventual result:

A link that points to another link that points to a page with a PDF form embedded with FlashPaper, which must be digitally photographed, uploaded from the camera, printed out, filled out, and faxed to a fax service that take the fax and emails it. The image in the email is converted back to text and read aloud by a screen reader.


Last night at work, I got a screenshot that the user said was "scanned". The image was sideways, and on first glance appeared to be black and white, although subsequent examination showed color from what was probably .jpg artifacts. It appeared that they had in fact held up a black-and-white scanner to their computer screen, and saved the resulting image as a color .jpg.

I did not think that such a thing could happen outside of fiction.
azurelunatic: "beautiful addiction", electron microscope photo of caffeine (caffeine)
Work has, within the past month, swapped out its old vending company for a new one. I work in a call center with a bunch of geeks. Work has attempted to cater to this in their vending choices. All the new machines are state of the art and quite scary in contrast to the old vending machines that have been the same since like practically the 1970s.

Details of the vending machines and my observations. )
azurelunatic: Teddybear that contains ethernet switch.  (teddyborg)
When I mouthed off about yet another customer misconception the other day -- an understandable misconception, but technically naive -- my entire department and I would like to know how in Sam Hill an SSL Certificate can protect you from a DDoS attack -- the Cranky Old Geek got a kind of light in his eye and asked me if I was a hacker.

I stopped talking, puzzled.

"Oh, come on, you're totally a hacker," the Cranky Old Geek said enthusiastically. "You can tell us. What have you hacked?"

I was torn between feeling flattered and lecturing on the differences between hacking and cracking. I settled for relating the tale of how I figured out how to duplicate a stealth bastard freaky in the domain registration cleaning process. That settled things, and the day continued.


Hacker. Hacker?!
azurelunatic: Teddybear that contains ethernet switch.  (teddyborg)
The department I'm in is starting to require an internal certification. Today, I hit the minimum number of posts half an hour before time to go home. They're really pushing for our department to get certified, so that was an opportunity, and I hit the books. (Well, the virtual books.) The certification is open-resource, as it involves the use of the resources as one of the things they're testing on. No one is expected to hold all of that in their heads. I scored 95%, which is not perfect but not bad.

There was one question that made no sense. The question was, in essence, "As illustrated by this thing that you have to take about five to ten steps to look up, what is the log file entry in Column C that indicates that such and such a wine-related task has been done -- is it FOO_RHUBARB_BAR, FOO_PEACH_BAR, BAZ_GRAPE_CRISP, BAZ_GRAPE_BAR, or BAZ_ORANGE_BAR?" The log file in question, however, had its Column C filled with CARPETFUZZ_MOCKS_ME all the way down in a stern and sturdy way that indicated that carpetfuzz would mock you, too, if you attempted to inquire after any sort of fruits there.

It was simple enough to pick the answer from the multiple choices given, as since it was wine-related, it had to be one of the GRAPE commands, and knowledge of internal jargon plus the presence of the other commands made it clear that _CRISP was the ringer. But it was supposed to be an exercise in looking things up, not an exercise in logic.


In far sillier and perhaps less surreal news, a co-worker of mine and one of his teammates were arguing over the term "Dutch oven". To my friend, it means that clay or perhaps cast-iron contraption that is used in slow-cooking. To his teammate, it was a slang term describing the frankly disgusting practice of breaking wind in bed, and pulling the covers over one's bedmate's head so they get to share. "A cast-iron Dutch oven? Harsh, man! She couldn't get *out*!" We boggled over that for a while. We can both see it as a slang definition, but not as the official and only definition attached to the term.

Conversation drifted, and wound up at RFID chips, and paranoia, and blocking them, and a bizarre craft project involving soda cans and melted garbage bags to make an RFID-opaque purse. He scoffed, not at the science but at the craft project, as really, any sufficiently enclosing-the-thing bit of metal will work.

... You know how conversations work. We were suddenly back where we started, with the RFID-opaque Dutch Oven. Both kinds.
azurelunatic: Polished piece of rainbow fluorite (fluorite)
After a retagging run, work suddenly seems so pure and simple. See, I face single customers one on one there, linear, and there are simple answers (most of the time) that can be looked up, factual and technical answers. [livejournal.com profile] suggestions is a party of what-if, and can-we, and a weird timelapse. I have to think hard about it.

Of course, what work has in linear clients, it makes up for in colleagues who are physically there, occasionally physically throwing a riot. The other night, in a lull when no one actually needed supervisory attention, all supervisor tasks were caught up on for the nonce, and our supervisor was bored out of his skull, a charming confluence of physics, technical toys, late night, lack of management, and the aforementioned bored men came to pass.

A certain large office supply store has these red buttons that say "That was easy!" when tapped. (Big. Red. Shiny.) There is, somewhere out there, a big, dark blue, shiny knockoff that says, "That was fucking easy!" when tapped.

... or smacked with a flying nerf-ball.

... or smacked with a flying nerf-ball that has been bounced off the wall and into the cube where said button has been left.

... or smacked with a flying nerf-ball that has been bounced off the floor, the wall, and into the cube and no few of the pieces of relatively delicate instrumentation parked there.

... or bounced off the shiny bald head of the young man who looks much too much like Lex Luthor.


I have mentioned lately how much I love my job?
azurelunatic: "Come and dance and love the fish! Mister Disco summoned it!" (love the fish)
http://community.adn.com/adn/node/112569
http://www.cnn.com/2008/LIVING/wayoflife/07/28/mf.mrrogers.neighbor/index.html

Tonight I meant to say "fist of iron" when talking to someone. Not in Typo City. "...with a fish of iron!" I proudly instructed. That and a pillowfight need to get up on the website.

This morning, I had occasion to need tech support from one of the Red Cube Badge Guys. I called and got Neo. When his branch of the Red Cube Badge Guys get called, they need name, rank, serial number, and commander. I fed him the commander's name. "And your name?" he asked.

It was the end of a shift. I was punch-drunk. "Joan Lunatic," I said, as straight-faced as one can be when being that 7am and chipper.
"And how do you spell that?"
"L-U-N-A-T-I-C."
He noted it down, and I could hear his confusion start to widen as he clicked through his Handy List of People Who Should Be Calling Him.
"But you'll probably find me under my maiden name, $LASTNAME," I said, smirking.
It really shouldn't be this easy. He'd bought it.


When I write these LJ-things up, even though I'm speaking only from the perspective of a long-time user of the site, I'm writing them with LJ Support volunteering in mind. If I got paid for it, it would be a second job. :D

Several days worth of Twittering. )


Things that are less fun and happy: Grandma's memorial is Sunday. Guide Dog Aunt is flying me out Sunday morning, and back in Sunday night. I am of the opinion that I should probably see if Darkside isn't up for more anime next Monday.
azurelunatic: stick figure about to hit potato w/ flaming tennis racket, near jug of gasoline &amp; sack of potatoes (bad idea)
I have no idea what actually started this discussion, but I walked right into the middle of it. I needed a lead's attention on the thing I was just on, and the lead and the supervisor had just disappeared inside the conference room. "Hammer pants!" I heard as I walked up. Not the sort of carpentry pants that have a loop for a hammer, no. MC Hammer pants. "Mr. Out took your Hammer pants!" I declared to Captain Picard. Picard was therefore declared pantsless. It was that hour of night when everything seems funnier, so Picard was doubled over his keyboard giggling over the next five minutes of escalating Hammerpantslessness jokes.

On my way out to lunch, I stopped and inquired of that pal of mine with no LJ on the call floor if he had Hammerpants. He did not. If he did, he said, he would wear them, just for the sheer awesome.

On our way back in from lunch, [livejournal.com profile] tatteredfairy and I stopped and interrogated Pointy Sr. about Hammerpants, although this was delayed by him assuming we were coming to interrogate him about his hat, and his fellow red-lanyard-guy throwing his blouse (it was supposed to have been some sort of cowboy shirt, but in fact it turned out to have been a blouse instead) into the mix.

Once we got back to the Hammerpants, we interrogated him in bad-cop/worse-cop style.

"Are you wearing Hammerpants right now?"
"Do you currently wear Hammerpants?"
"Do you own Hammerpants?"
"Do you know anyone who wears Hammerpants?"
"Do you know anyone who owns Hammerpants?"
"Have you worn Hammerpants in the past?"

"...Yes, actually."

Interrogation dissolved at this point, as all of us were laughing too hard.
azurelunatic: <user name="azurelunatic"> grins while her best friend ducks.  (grin & duck)
It's Opposites Day.

Friday was work and team breakfast.

Saturday was work, and first I dropped my water bottle, then I had a fight with the computer systems over my password (and lost an hour). I also figured out what that customer meant when she asked, "I bought the shop. Will it take more than 3000 MB in a different hotel?" It puzzled me vastly, as it had puzzled a teammate and our supervisor previously (I got a new request from the same customer and was trying to get some context) and then *snap* it clicked -- she meant, of course, "I have purchased your e-commerce application and would like to host it elsewhere. Will I need more than 3000 MB of space?" (The answer to that question is "No, our e-commerce application cannot be hosted elsewhere. I apologize for any inconvenience.")

I zombified with [livejournal.com profile] hcolleen when I got home Sunday morning, then slept. When I woke up, I called Darkside and then realized that I had two emails from him (what!!) that I hadn't read. Sensing that time was a-wasting (and because I had some coherent from not waking up to alarm) I quickly showered and drove over. We had pizza and comedy, taking a detour through a History channel show that resembles Mythbusters in the construction, destruction, and mess, before getting into The History of the World (Part I). As the last time I had seen that was with Shawn, I enjoyed watching it for the first time. We then wound up in anime, Shadow Skill, which is silly, fun, and not a bad substitute for Slayers.

I made reference to Home Movies from the Cutting-Room Floor, and then had to explain it. (I reassured him that he's nooowhere in it.) Darkside doesn't do written slapstick comedy (my specialty), and he really doesn't do boys in skirts. (Pity.) That led to a discussion on what it was that he read. "Magic and explosions" sums up much of it. :D

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Azure Jane Lunatic (Azz) 🌺

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