Silly things I do at work:

One of our employees is fen, with the first name Daniel, last name something common. We have this thing where if you're on certain surveys more than 25 times in a certain length of time, you get offered a chance to take a break from the survey for a few months. Daniel had been on this survey more than 25 times. We have this form we fill out to hand the phone goons. It goes, "_________________, you have been on the __________ survey at least 25 times ..." and goes on to the rest of the fine print. In the blank for the name, I wrote "Daniel Jackson $LASTNAME". He was duly amused. (I really do need to see more Stargate.)

One of my duties is to answer incoming phone calls to the office and relay messages to phone goons. The welcome desk up front calls me when one of the phone goons has a visitor. I relay the information to the phone goon in question. This time, the last name of the guy was Anderson. "Mr. Anderson. You have a guest at the welcome desk," I said. The phone goons around him started cracking up at the Matrix reference.

I wear Post-Its on my forehead advertising my emotions of the moment. Those are really only for extreme moods. Most times, a post-it on the computer will do.

I offer my Clue Bat to people who look like their problems would be solved by hitting someone.

I play with the work e-mail. Not blatant play, just subtle wordplay. I was pleased with myself for days for the "alarums and excursions" subject line. I adore writing up the booth out e-mail to the IT department, because I can usually phrase myself cleverly and get away with it.

Work is fun.

...gods, I'm going to miss Poser-Geek Supervisor.

Random with random sauce

There's a certain style of self-important pompousness that doesn't sit well with me. When there's someone whose natural style is far more casual, but they feel that in order to be listened to, they have to write in what they consider an intellectual style, but it's a style that doesn't sit well on them -- that really irks me. This is especially true when the pompous and overly formal style is riddled with inaccurate punctuation, poor spelling, and inadvertently absurd word choice. I'm really tempted to advise, "Be yourself, fuckwit!" -- except that I'd wind up mortally insulting the poor bastards, and I'd like as not hear back, "This is me." I'd far rather think that they're dressing themselves up for the internet, albeit in as odd a fashion choice as a Muggle ladies' floral nightgown on an elderly wizard.

Speaking of wizards...

Allegra still decorates my floor, in full shipping box. I've barely had time to breathe since Friday. Today does not count. I've made a step in the direction of unpacking, by organizing the bedside table, getting Gemini plugged in and troubleshot (she needs a driver and a dongle; the driver's now downloaded and on floppy; the floppy's stuck in her side awaiting reboot; the dongle's with Darkside), and making the bed. All of these things contribute to an atmosphere in which long-awaited new-like-used systems from overseas may be unpacked with all due ceremony and glee.

My bed is starting to look like a bed again. I have finally employed the dust ruffle as a ruffle, rather than a spare random sheet-type-thing. (My bed-making is approximate at best.) I discovered that my favorite huggy-rock was under the futon, giving lie to any claim I might have about my Pretty Pink Princess status. (I am shamelessly snagging the phrase from cadhla, who is awesome for more things than just her fic, filk, and assorted poetry.)

My bed is now fearsomely and awesomely ruffled, with black-grey-and-white dust ruffle skirting, a pale blue and white ruffled top, a white lace ruffle curtain for a headboard substitute, and a pale blue draping canopy above. This makes me happy. Soon, I shall sleep, but first: more photos! Blurry photo of Allegra's box, "next" has more, then bed and blurry apartment & such.

Bonus: Disemvowelling of bad commenters on other blog systems! (I would very much like for LJ to have "disemvowel" as a command for selected comments as well as delete, freeze, and screen!)

Draft of a comment that won't be posted on /.

When I was a kid, I told my mother all about my day each day after I came home from school. My mother cared, or at least she pretended to. I exchanged ten-page letters, and later five e-mails a day, with camp friends. I'd often wind up copying and pasting large hunks of content in communications, because I had the same news to share with everyone, with the exception of a few personalized lines in reply to their last message, and inquiries about their individual lives.

This is almost the exact content that goes in the blog. It's not vital to anyone's life but mine and my friends. I don't have to worry about content duplication.

I think some of the Blogs Are Bad! folks cherish the thought that a blog is like a little syndicated column, and should have content relevant to the same types of themes that magazines and newspapers have. There are blogs on gaming, politics, computers, medicine, cooking, cars, et cetera... And when ordinary blogs are often little more than very local gossip columns with the occasional nugget of a good piece mixed in, they feel cheated.

Not very much of the content I put in my own blog is relevant to any type of theme. It's whatever's on the top of my head. I've kept a personal paper journal of one sort or another with reasonable regularity since January 16th, 1991. The content has to fit two criteria to make it into my public blog.

First, would I say this aloud in the company of the group of friends I know reads my blog, while sitting in a public coffee shop? I know that co-workers and family members frequent the coffee shop, and it's even odds as to whether one of them will be in while I'm saying any given thing. So while I may treat the entire virtual coffee shop to my impression of the stupid thing somebody said to me last week, complete with sound effects and diagrams on a paper napkin, I may avoid the run-down of the virtues and flaws of the person my baby sister is dating currently, because I know she wouldn't be happy with me talking about that where Dad might overhear.

Second, will I want to re-read this when I go back through the archives of my blog? One of the wildly popular bits of wasted time in the modern blog are the quizzes and "memes", the ones where you find out what cheese you are, if you are or are not a Pretty Pink Princess, who your celebrity date should be based on your name and favorite color, and if you were an operating system or a file type, which one would you be. Five years from now, when I'm trying to remember what I was up to in 2005, will I really care that I was string cheese and my mouth was a broken .jpg? Not really. I probably will care about the doings of the assorted characters in my workplace, and the reminder why I don't work more 60 hour work weeks would probably be timely.

GLP: "Right Here Waiting"

Oh, yes, this is a song for the romance-that-isn't.

( Read more... )

More workplace fun...

We have a thing at work called the Book of Quotes, where some of the funniest damn things said in the workplace are recorded. It's a rubber-banded stack of quarter-size sheets of paper.

We also have a survey at work where people talk about their utility companies. One open-ended question is about why the respondent chose to give that numerical rating on a "Dealing with power outages" question. The response I found in my editing: "Because it shouldn't take that long to get it up." Before I edited it for context and clarity (to "Because it shouldn't take that long to get the power back up"), I pulled a screen capture for the book of Quotes.

Pink Shirt Guy took one look at it, snickered, and dumped the printout in the recycle bin.

(I have a copy saved in my Workplace Fun folder on the file system.)

Voice Post: Happy Birthday, sionainn!

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Crazy lady at the bus stop. She asked for directions. I helped. She cussed at the guy who had not. I took offense.

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Fag is not in my lexicon of acceptable curses. "excuse me. ... Fuck you too, bitch." and I walked away. Not my best.

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She resumed cussing. I stayed away and silent. She ranted to the bus driver about assault & she knows how we look.

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Even if she is friends with gay people, I doubt they would have good words about her word choice. Hope she gets help.

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Even to the layman, it is massively evident that her problems extend far beyond mere potty mouth. FAR beyond.

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Gave plasma. Started and finished Dreamweaver's dilemma. Good stuff. I need to haul out the Necromancer to edit pre-nov.

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It shocks me when I am a confrontational harpy. The well-muffled drama queen in me wanted an actual screaming match.

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I seem to be taking on my high school title of pen lady again. I wear 3 pens & innumerable highlighters at work.

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I need to capture the mood of desert winter. The lethargy of summer has already been expressed.

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Still out. Home on the next bus - now. I got bitten by ants before group, and the antihistamines hit hard during.

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I am going over Necromancer's prayer this month so I can submit. Tor & where else? I want that one out there.