Day-to-day Lunacy: double shift Sunday

Hanging out on the phone with people who may or may not want to talk to one is exhausting enough for six hours.

Doing so for the eight-hour Saturday shift is evidently worse.

Doing so for a six and a half and a six hour shift back-to-back with half an hour of breathing room in between? trystan_laryssa, dustraven, othercat, marxdarx, and sorcha007 all think I'm absolutely fricking bonkers, and where they agree, the Little Fayoumis, shammash, and eris_raven agree as well. (Darkside's position remains known: anyone who works there to start with has to be at least slightly bonkers, and I'm more than bonkers to begin with, so... .)

So, yeah.

The only day this week I wasn't working was Thursday, and that's my busy day. I was working the standard 6 hour shift on Monday, then came in two hours early for an eight hour shift on Tuesday, Wednesday, and Friday. I worked the standard 8 hour Saturday. I worked a double shift Sunday (which wound up being 8 to 8 today, instead of the usual 8 to 9).

This next week, I come in early for 8 hour shifts Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, and Friday, work the standard 8 hour Saturday shift, then pull a double shift Sunday.

Then I'm going to work my dinky little 6 hour shifts Monday and Tuesday, then pack like mad on Wednesday so's I can fly off to Alaska on Thursday.

Where does seeing my best friend fit in there, anyway?
It's a conspiracy, I tell you.

As if I had any spare time...

This morning: sleep.
Tuesday morning: bleed. Also, call the Darkside.
Wednesday morning: probably return books to library.
Thursday morning: bleed. Thursday day: stuff, perhaps things. Maybe even seeing my blonder half. Run paycheck by bank. Thursday evening: writing group. (Which means in the intervening time I need to type up "A Cup of Time" and write a new installment for it, and also finish my essay on the sort of blog that isn't an alcoholic beverage.)
Friday morning: steal underpants. Perhaps grocery shop.
Saturday afternoon/evening: grocery shop if I didn't Friday.
Sunday: ARE YOU NUTS? There is only room for work on a double shift Sunday.
Monday morning: gods help us, but I go in to work at 3 not 1, yay me.
Tuesday morning: bleed.
Wednesday: run about as if I were a slightly truncated gallacious bird.

July
Thursday morning: find bus at who the hell are you kidding AM and ride to airport, or maybe snag a lift from Sis. Thursday day: massive boredom on airplane. Thursday evening: Alaska, after nearly four years without.
Friday: unscheduled
Saturday: unscheduled
Sunday: unscheduled
Monday: unscheduled
Tuesday: unscheduled
Wednesday: unscheduled
Thursday morning: go to airport. Thursday day: massive boredom on airplane. Thursday evening: wrangle buses to freshstartwrite. Share literary insights I had on trip. Giggling. Insanity.
Friday morning: sleep. Friday afternoon: work. Rinse, lather, repeat.

Fic Rec: "So You Want to Transfigure Yourself a Rock Band"

"So You Want to Transfigure Yourself a Rock Band" -- Remus/Sirius that I actually like, complete with glam rock. I swear it's the UST that does it every time.

Early conditioning makes stories about space flight leave tears in my eyes.

http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/sci/tech/3811881.stm

Gmail Invitations

Anyone who is wanting Gmail invitations, do please be sending me e-mail at my Gmail account, as I'm not sure how it's working for other people, but when I've been getting mail there from non-Gmail folks, I'm asked if I want to invite them to get a Gmail account, but I don't see a way to invite someone I haven't gotten mail from.

I don't care if I get a sinus infection for a month for crying.

http://www.csmonitor.com/2004/0622/p01s02-usgn.html

http://news.google.com/news?sourceid=navclient&ie=UTF-8&oe=UTF-8&q=%22spaceshipone%22

Warning: http://www.spacedev.com is probably slashdotted.

Walking Monday

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Fandom WTF: head is pasted on

I've been seeing an upswing in a certain kind of icon: an obvious and bad attempt at image manipulation, with a head on a body it clearly does not belong with. The caption involves a poorly spelled variation on "My head is pasted on!"

It's clearly in reference to something, in the same way that there were many icons spawned by cheekyweebisom's encounter with the illiterate troll friend of a CTY acquaintance.

So, what epic wank or other delightful event spawned the "my hed is pasted on oh yey!!1!" icons? Your out-of-the-loop-but-still-fen Lunatic is consumed with curiousity.

Careers

I talked to the Deliverator!

Work 3 Month Review

Evidently I rock really, really hard. The monitor who called me in to go over my reports from the last three months.

My login working time isn't what it should be, but that's about it. Evidently I'm practically perfect.

*preens*