Much ado about junk mail
Pillow fort: didn't happen.
Abduction by #cupcake for the purposes of an ice-cream walk: happened.
( Azz vs. the IT Infrastructure )
Lunch with Purple. Despite the extra-full parking lot, very few of the usual suspects were around for lunch. Purple and I wound up having a nice quiet end of the table to ourselves.
Whatever they did to the pulled pork at the taco station was not good: it was somewhat sweet, which would have possibly been all right if it had had any amount of salt, which it did not. I asked Purple to pass the salt, by which he concluded that I did not have the chicken burrito, as he'd had an encounter with the same pulled pork earlier that week.
Purple's taking the entirety of Thanksgiving week off, and may not leave his condo during that time. He may therefore be absent from the Seanan party.
I observed my grandmanager showing up at an external cafeteria door, plate in one hand and cellphone held to the ear with the other. He stood there sort of uncertain what to do now until someone got up to let him in. Shortly thereafter, he was seen at the badged exit into the rest of the building, cellphone in one hand on one ear and other hand on other ear to block noise, spinning in circles until the other people near the door opened it and he was able to walk through with them.
Purple then defined the term "telepathetic". He removed the salt shaker from by my plate. "Hey!" "And instead of asking someone to pass the salt, you just stare at it looking pathetic until someone hands it to you." He moved it back. Then he took it away again, quickly returning it after I gave him The Look (not a pathetic one, an "I'm not wearing the loon beak RIGHT NOW, mister, but..." one).
Somewhere partway through the afternoon, a piece of network infrastructure went biting-pear-shaped and fucked the network but gloriously. That was a bit not good. Side effects included utter hosing of the thing which you need to authenticate through in order to get to the offsite SaaS helpdesk (sessions time out after 30 minutes).
In unqualifiedly excellent news: the Dean and I have an appointment for next Friday to print and laminate disambiguation signs for all external entrances (of at least my building, but I'm hoping to prepare the lot and just do it all in one go). My manager and Rocky were beside themselves with glee when I ran over to tell someone, and Rocky particularly hopes to sign all the new buildings.
phone: Wait, why would you need that?
ajl: "Hi, I'm here at Building D with your pizza."
ajl: "Great, what door are you at?"
ajl: "D."
phone: Oh. Yeah.
Then Purple and Radius discussed various amusing words which could be made with the letters A-D followed by low-ish Roman numerals. DIV, BI, AIX ... I shall perhaps spoil their fun a little through careful formatting.
Then Kat called. Upon learning that I was still at work and that Purple had just asked me when I was ready to leave, she demanded to talk to him. Hilarity ensued; he did show up and Kat somehow got from Segways (Purple and I need them to get around in the Very Large Office Park) through helpful ferrets in packing peanuts to whether or not Purple is a Centauri. (He helpfully held up his hair in a crest.) "YOU ARE NOT ALLOWED TO SEE HIM HE HAS A PREHENSILE PENIS!" Kat declared.
Purple held up a lemonhead. I had the phone in one hand and something (I think my headset) in the other, so I just opened my mouth. Purple tried throwing it in. It bounced off my lip and hit the asphalt. Woops.
I had to explain "drift-compatible" to Purple, as he hasn't seen Pacific Rim.
Purple is nicely tall, but not too tall. I like the way I can lean my head on his shoulder when hugging goodnight. His neck is warm. His hair likes to try to get inside my face.
Abduction by #cupcake for the purposes of an ice-cream walk: happened.
( Azz vs. the IT Infrastructure )
Lunch with Purple. Despite the extra-full parking lot, very few of the usual suspects were around for lunch. Purple and I wound up having a nice quiet end of the table to ourselves.
Whatever they did to the pulled pork at the taco station was not good: it was somewhat sweet, which would have possibly been all right if it had had any amount of salt, which it did not. I asked Purple to pass the salt, by which he concluded that I did not have the chicken burrito, as he'd had an encounter with the same pulled pork earlier that week.
Purple's taking the entirety of Thanksgiving week off, and may not leave his condo during that time. He may therefore be absent from the Seanan party.
I observed my grandmanager showing up at an external cafeteria door, plate in one hand and cellphone held to the ear with the other. He stood there sort of uncertain what to do now until someone got up to let him in. Shortly thereafter, he was seen at the badged exit into the rest of the building, cellphone in one hand on one ear and other hand on other ear to block noise, spinning in circles until the other people near the door opened it and he was able to walk through with them.
Purple then defined the term "telepathetic". He removed the salt shaker from by my plate. "Hey!" "And instead of asking someone to pass the salt, you just stare at it looking pathetic until someone hands it to you." He moved it back. Then he took it away again, quickly returning it after I gave him The Look (not a pathetic one, an "I'm not wearing the loon beak RIGHT NOW, mister, but..." one).
Somewhere partway through the afternoon, a piece of network infrastructure went biting-pear-shaped and fucked the network but gloriously. That was a bit not good. Side effects included utter hosing of the thing which you need to authenticate through in order to get to the offsite SaaS helpdesk (sessions time out after 30 minutes).
In unqualifiedly excellent news: the Dean and I have an appointment for next Friday to print and laminate disambiguation signs for all external entrances (of at least my building, but I'm hoping to prepare the lot and just do it all in one go). My manager and Rocky were beside themselves with glee when I ran over to tell someone, and Rocky particularly hopes to sign all the new buildings.
phone: Wait, why would you need that?
ajl: "Hi, I'm here at Building D with your pizza."
ajl: "Great, what door are you at?"
ajl: "D."
phone: Oh. Yeah.
Then Purple and Radius discussed various amusing words which could be made with the letters A-D followed by low-ish Roman numerals. DIV, BI, AIX ... I shall perhaps spoil their fun a little through careful formatting.
Then Kat called. Upon learning that I was still at work and that Purple had just asked me when I was ready to leave, she demanded to talk to him. Hilarity ensued; he did show up and Kat somehow got from Segways (Purple and I need them to get around in the Very Large Office Park) through helpful ferrets in packing peanuts to whether or not Purple is a Centauri. (He helpfully held up his hair in a crest.) "YOU ARE NOT ALLOWED TO SEE HIM HE HAS A PREHENSILE PENIS!" Kat declared.
Purple held up a lemonhead. I had the phone in one hand and something (I think my headset) in the other, so I just opened my mouth. Purple tried throwing it in. It bounced off my lip and hit the asphalt. Woops.
I had to explain "drift-compatible" to Purple, as he hasn't seen Pacific Rim.
Purple is nicely tall, but not too tall. I like the way I can lean my head on his shoulder when hugging goodnight. His neck is warm. His hair likes to try to get inside my face.