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Did I mention the part the other night where I was fetching my potatoes from the kitchen, and I tripped over the rug and fell and while I saved the potatoes I also managed to land on my fist in the wastebasket, basically punching my garbage? Because that is a thing that happened. Nothing hurt except my dignity, my fist (slightly), and my garbage.
Today involved enough mailing that I was incoherent when one of the designers stopped by with a wiki question. It takes my brain some time to swap states, and that was seriously unswapped. I was vaguely professional at work! While I didn't mention doggy style nachos in front of Purple's QE friend, I did cuss about the outgoing system a good fair chunk. Fucking thing.
Purple and I both have highly associative brains. This makes us both tend to go off on tangents that get really weird, though we can usually follow each other for a few hops. Purple, lb, and I were hanging out at the lunar new year thing. We've established that Purple is one step lower and I'm one step further; turns out that lb is one step weirder. Hilarity, complete with "Centipedes?" references, ensued.
There are various sorts of funny. Tonight, I laughed, and I felt a particular sensation that most people with uterus as OEM equipment have come to know and perhaps fear. ( A bloody mess, is what. )
Purple was kind enough to run back upstairs to retrieve my headset when I left it on my desk. Yay headset! Yay Purple! BJ came up in the topic of the "Nice Guy", and it's educational to discuss the concept with someone who a) doesn't automatically know what's meant when I say it in that tone of voice, and b) who has substantial mutual trust-and-goodwill stock built up, such that one poorly-thought-out phrase on either end likely wouldn't result in epic meltdown of relations. One of the key bits in the description of the so-called "Nice Guy" was that when crossing the goddamn boundary lines, and being told about it, not only is there (itself worrying) defensiveness, there's also the fucking petulance. Which clicked with Purple. Heh. (His own approach seems to be back-off-and-make-an-effort-to-do-better, which is entirely fine by me.) I offered a glomp; it almost but not quite un-cricked his back. It was cool enough outside that hanging out chatting did get a little chilly. My toes were chilly, mostly; I warmed up well enough in the car on the way home, chatting with Nora and then Drewface.
The inside of my brain does a lot of its processing in audio. The presence of two people with the same given name and basically the same emotional intonation (despite different-shaped concept objects) has been causing problems in various processing. To illustrate, I named five people of the same given name out loud to Drew. He could hear the difference in the first three. The last two were difficult to tell apart. YOU AND ME BOTH, BRO.
Tomorrow I'm meeting my aunt for dinner. I'll need to do laundry.
Today involved enough mailing that I was incoherent when one of the designers stopped by with a wiki question. It takes my brain some time to swap states, and that was seriously unswapped. I was vaguely professional at work! While I didn't mention doggy style nachos in front of Purple's QE friend, I did cuss about the outgoing system a good fair chunk. Fucking thing.
Purple and I both have highly associative brains. This makes us both tend to go off on tangents that get really weird, though we can usually follow each other for a few hops. Purple, lb, and I were hanging out at the lunar new year thing. We've established that Purple is one step lower and I'm one step further; turns out that lb is one step weirder. Hilarity, complete with "Centipedes?" references, ensued.
There are various sorts of funny. Tonight, I laughed, and I felt a particular sensation that most people with uterus as OEM equipment have come to know and perhaps fear. ( A bloody mess, is what. )
Purple was kind enough to run back upstairs to retrieve my headset when I left it on my desk. Yay headset! Yay Purple! BJ came up in the topic of the "Nice Guy", and it's educational to discuss the concept with someone who a) doesn't automatically know what's meant when I say it in that tone of voice, and b) who has substantial mutual trust-and-goodwill stock built up, such that one poorly-thought-out phrase on either end likely wouldn't result in epic meltdown of relations. One of the key bits in the description of the so-called "Nice Guy" was that when crossing the goddamn boundary lines, and being told about it, not only is there (itself worrying) defensiveness, there's also the fucking petulance. Which clicked with Purple. Heh. (His own approach seems to be back-off-and-make-an-effort-to-do-better, which is entirely fine by me.) I offered a glomp; it almost but not quite un-cricked his back. It was cool enough outside that hanging out chatting did get a little chilly. My toes were chilly, mostly; I warmed up well enough in the car on the way home, chatting with Nora and then Drewface.
The inside of my brain does a lot of its processing in audio. The presence of two people with the same given name and basically the same emotional intonation (despite different-shaped concept objects) has been causing problems in various processing. To illustrate, I named five people of the same given name out loud to Drew. He could hear the difference in the first three. The last two were difficult to tell apart. YOU AND ME BOTH, BRO.
Tomorrow I'm meeting my aunt for dinner. I'll need to do laundry.
