Azure Jane Lunatic (Azz) 🌺 (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
azurelunatic) wrote2014-08-23 12:32 am
azurelunatic) wrote2014-08-23 12:32 am
Clearly I need a mojito hat.
Today contained many awesomes.
Workstuff: It was supposed to be the day for a fix release on the helpdesk software. We'll see how things are on Monday. We'll also see how my workload is going into Labor Day weekend -- Hipster Researcher has announced intent to come back from a conference with audio recordings. Since the point of my ridiculously detailed notes from 2nd Thursday is that we can't retain audio on the servers, he may have to cut bait if my workload is too high to spare time for that.
I have the butterfly & Gaiman package of BPAL fromsynecdochic! This whole thing is so much fun. And I have run into some scents that maybe I don't want to keep, which means eventual delight for someone else! (Either that or a garlic wine/cherry lime horrorsyrup situation, where the vessel of woe is tested by a succession of people until it is gone.)
It was beer bash day. I brought my own bottle of non-beer and secured a table. phone joined me, and Purple, and some of the guys. "Hi guys!" said Lennon Glasses Guy, and then realized that technically, if "guys" is gendered, I am the odd man out. So to speak. I allowed as how since I wasn't presenting particularly femme at that point, I wasn't particularly offended. Purple pointed out that the hat (a black floppy-brimmed sun hat, one of the woven paper and plastic thread ones that I go through slightly slower not-in-Arizona) wasn't particularly butch. I allowed as how the skirt of the day was fairly butch. Then we discussed how to butch up that hat. "A beer hat!" Purple declared. Yes. That is butch. Then we figured out how to *un*-butch the beer hat: fancy drinks (possibly with lots of fruit) in lieu of beers. Purple's brain got stuck on the mental image of the mojito-hat, and seemed to sort of white out from glee.
I had called R to ping her about bash. About an hour in to bash, someone brushed by our table. I looked at the blouse-and-jeans rear view of the person, and asked Purple, "Hey, was that R?" Whoever she was, she was about R's build, going into Purple's building. "I'm going to laugh if that was R going to bug me at my desk."
R emerged from Purple's building, bent over her phone. We hailed her. Dinner debate ensued. The party was to be R, Purple, and me: phone had other things to do. I called not-it for driving. Purple called not-it for driving. We planned to reconvene at my cube.
I wrapped up stuff and applied makeup, as I like to wear makeup when going Out, despite the fact that the heat today flattens my hair the moment I step out a door. R showed with the Other Guy (so dubbed because he has basically the same first name as Purple) in tow; they set out to claim a table while the getting was still good. Purple arrived just a bit after their departure. I grabbed a map; he drove.
While we were cruising through an intersection, there came a honking from the right lane. Purple, who had been driving, hadn't registered the same level of detail I had. "The Civic cut in from the right and was going too slow for the Subaru, who was pretty mad judging from the way it honked," I explained. Purple had thought as much, but he'd been watching different parts of the road. Then traffic slowed hella down and halted for a traffic light, just as the Civic got out of the way of the Subaru and wound up in front of us, which put us about in line with the Subaru. "It's phone!" I said, and busted up laughing. Indeed, the somewhat honky driver of the Subaru was in fact our co-worker and friend. "Hey phone!" Everybody's windows were down. He heard his name (much to his surprise), looked over, saw us, and we had a short and hilarious chat until the light turned green and we headed off thattaway.
Purple realized that street parking was a fool's errand at this hour in downtown Palo Alto, but happily there was a space in a parking garage, just about as R called Purple. He handed the phone off to me just as it stopped buzzing, so I texted her back from my phone (which is not 10-key and I don't pay per text). The walk there was slightly disoriented and was halted briefly for a parking farce which turned out to involve 5 vehicles: the sedan double parked to narrow the parking lot aisle, the minivan which had to move in order to let the ginormous pickup truck do its thing, the ginormous pickup truck which was sort of athwart two compact car spaces and was having a hard time with a curb, a towncar which was trying to pull in to the lot and getting in the pickup truck's way from the other end, and the car in the street which was behind the towncar (which had clearly just hung a left) so it couldn't back up out of the pickup's way either.
We eventually made it to the pizza place without incident, and there was food and it was good. I had to explain my watch to the Other Guy. (Purple has been present for several times I've had to explain my watch. I hope he's amused by all of that.) The Other Guy said, apropos of my vague explanation of compass/map apps, that there should be a watch app to steer you right in other ways: you're too sleepy to drink that wine, you shouldn't put the phone in the microwave, it's bedtime now, you don't need to stuff M&Ms up your nose -- basically a fishmum in a watch. I think that it is mildly concerning to some of my in-person friends that I provide that sort of moral/sensible guidance for my fish. Because, well, they have met me, and know about my M&M problem.
R and the Other Guy had ordered with dessert in mind. Then we learned that the place does not do dessert! So we set forth into the foodie district of downtown Palo Alto with dessert in mind.
The first place was too crowded. (Purple spoke up in praise of my being decisive, even though it was decisovely negative.) The place across the street was too young and hip. The place across the other street said it was "so good." We elected skepticism, and looked at all the buzzwords on the windows. The next place did have a dessert menu, but it also looked kinda trendy and such. There was someone standing outside, and she recommended an ice cream sandwich place a little further down. Purple said he remembered another place that was like five blocks thattaway. We decided to march. I was in favor of ice cream sandwiches. Everyone eventually decided that was a good idea (at least, if nothing else looked better).
We arrived there. There was a bit of a line, and a bit of a time deciding on stuff. I got a sundae (strawberry ice cream on a lemon bar, with whipped cream and a cherry). We stood around outside with our goodies and chatted, with a bit of hilarious shenanigans flavor-swapping. A mound of whipped cream (fortunately not the bit with the cherry) liberated itself from the main pile, rolled down my spoon, down my sleeve, and splatted to the sidewalk. "That must have been a really big bird!" After I nearly toppled backwards into traffic, we moved to the other side of the sidewalk. There was what looked like a chocolate-smeared handprint on the wall. The Other Guy said it was probably rusty nails, but wasn't confident enough in this to lean on that part of the wall. Purple and I said "Han shot first!" simultaneously to R. Then Purple high-fived the Other Guy for being the least nerdy member of the conversation (mostly because he hadn't been paying attention). Someone walked past with a very, very large dog. Someone else walked past saying "I literally died!" right during our discussion of that movie where Tom Cruise dies a lot.
We had a long and hilarious conversation, but eventually it was time to head back. We were walking back in the general direction of our starting point when one of the Other Guy's friends hailed him. He introduced himself and his companion around, rendering our new brief group of six in violation of the Palo Alto civil code that prohibits a gathering of more than two $NAMEs in the same two city blocks, as he made the third. :-P
Purple drove me back to work where Vash still was. I discovered that he had never heard Hard & Phirm's "Not Illegal". I'd left a few things in my cube, and while I don't feel unsafe in the parking lot (barring that recklessly-driven white van) some company is always appreciated. So Purple parked next to Vash, we walked in, grabbed my gear, and walked back out.
I laughed a lot tonight. I feel great.
Workstuff: It was supposed to be the day for a fix release on the helpdesk software. We'll see how things are on Monday. We'll also see how my workload is going into Labor Day weekend -- Hipster Researcher has announced intent to come back from a conference with audio recordings. Since the point of my ridiculously detailed notes from 2nd Thursday is that we can't retain audio on the servers, he may have to cut bait if my workload is too high to spare time for that.
I have the butterfly & Gaiman package of BPAL from
synecdochic! This whole thing is so much fun. And I have run into some scents that maybe I don't want to keep, which means eventual delight for someone else! (Either that or a garlic wine/cherry lime horrorsyrup situation, where the vessel of woe is tested by a succession of people until it is gone.) It was beer bash day. I brought my own bottle of non-beer and secured a table. phone joined me, and Purple, and some of the guys. "Hi guys!" said Lennon Glasses Guy, and then realized that technically, if "guys" is gendered, I am the odd man out. So to speak. I allowed as how since I wasn't presenting particularly femme at that point, I wasn't particularly offended. Purple pointed out that the hat (a black floppy-brimmed sun hat, one of the woven paper and plastic thread ones that I go through slightly slower not-in-Arizona) wasn't particularly butch. I allowed as how the skirt of the day was fairly butch. Then we discussed how to butch up that hat. "A beer hat!" Purple declared. Yes. That is butch. Then we figured out how to *un*-butch the beer hat: fancy drinks (possibly with lots of fruit) in lieu of beers. Purple's brain got stuck on the mental image of the mojito-hat, and seemed to sort of white out from glee.
I had called R to ping her about bash. About an hour in to bash, someone brushed by our table. I looked at the blouse-and-jeans rear view of the person, and asked Purple, "Hey, was that R?" Whoever she was, she was about R's build, going into Purple's building. "I'm going to laugh if that was R going to bug me at my desk."
R emerged from Purple's building, bent over her phone. We hailed her. Dinner debate ensued. The party was to be R, Purple, and me: phone had other things to do. I called not-it for driving. Purple called not-it for driving. We planned to reconvene at my cube.
I wrapped up stuff and applied makeup, as I like to wear makeup when going Out, despite the fact that the heat today flattens my hair the moment I step out a door. R showed with the Other Guy (so dubbed because he has basically the same first name as Purple) in tow; they set out to claim a table while the getting was still good. Purple arrived just a bit after their departure. I grabbed a map; he drove.
While we were cruising through an intersection, there came a honking from the right lane. Purple, who had been driving, hadn't registered the same level of detail I had. "The Civic cut in from the right and was going too slow for the Subaru, who was pretty mad judging from the way it honked," I explained. Purple had thought as much, but he'd been watching different parts of the road. Then traffic slowed hella down and halted for a traffic light, just as the Civic got out of the way of the Subaru and wound up in front of us, which put us about in line with the Subaru. "It's phone!" I said, and busted up laughing. Indeed, the somewhat honky driver of the Subaru was in fact our co-worker and friend. "Hey phone!" Everybody's windows were down. He heard his name (much to his surprise), looked over, saw us, and we had a short and hilarious chat until the light turned green and we headed off thattaway.
Purple realized that street parking was a fool's errand at this hour in downtown Palo Alto, but happily there was a space in a parking garage, just about as R called Purple. He handed the phone off to me just as it stopped buzzing, so I texted her back from my phone (which is not 10-key and I don't pay per text). The walk there was slightly disoriented and was halted briefly for a parking farce which turned out to involve 5 vehicles: the sedan double parked to narrow the parking lot aisle, the minivan which had to move in order to let the ginormous pickup truck do its thing, the ginormous pickup truck which was sort of athwart two compact car spaces and was having a hard time with a curb, a towncar which was trying to pull in to the lot and getting in the pickup truck's way from the other end, and the car in the street which was behind the towncar (which had clearly just hung a left) so it couldn't back up out of the pickup's way either.
We eventually made it to the pizza place without incident, and there was food and it was good. I had to explain my watch to the Other Guy. (Purple has been present for several times I've had to explain my watch. I hope he's amused by all of that.) The Other Guy said, apropos of my vague explanation of compass/map apps, that there should be a watch app to steer you right in other ways: you're too sleepy to drink that wine, you shouldn't put the phone in the microwave, it's bedtime now, you don't need to stuff M&Ms up your nose -- basically a fishmum in a watch. I think that it is mildly concerning to some of my in-person friends that I provide that sort of moral/sensible guidance for my fish. Because, well, they have met me, and know about my M&M problem.
R and the Other Guy had ordered with dessert in mind. Then we learned that the place does not do dessert! So we set forth into the foodie district of downtown Palo Alto with dessert in mind.
The first place was too crowded. (Purple spoke up in praise of my being decisive, even though it was decisovely negative.) The place across the street was too young and hip. The place across the other street said it was "so good." We elected skepticism, and looked at all the buzzwords on the windows. The next place did have a dessert menu, but it also looked kinda trendy and such. There was someone standing outside, and she recommended an ice cream sandwich place a little further down. Purple said he remembered another place that was like five blocks thattaway. We decided to march. I was in favor of ice cream sandwiches. Everyone eventually decided that was a good idea (at least, if nothing else looked better).
We arrived there. There was a bit of a line, and a bit of a time deciding on stuff. I got a sundae (strawberry ice cream on a lemon bar, with whipped cream and a cherry). We stood around outside with our goodies and chatted, with a bit of hilarious shenanigans flavor-swapping. A mound of whipped cream (fortunately not the bit with the cherry) liberated itself from the main pile, rolled down my spoon, down my sleeve, and splatted to the sidewalk. "That must have been a really big bird!" After I nearly toppled backwards into traffic, we moved to the other side of the sidewalk. There was what looked like a chocolate-smeared handprint on the wall. The Other Guy said it was probably rusty nails, but wasn't confident enough in this to lean on that part of the wall. Purple and I said "Han shot first!" simultaneously to R. Then Purple high-fived the Other Guy for being the least nerdy member of the conversation (mostly because he hadn't been paying attention). Someone walked past with a very, very large dog. Someone else walked past saying "I literally died!" right during our discussion of that movie where Tom Cruise dies a lot.
We had a long and hilarious conversation, but eventually it was time to head back. We were walking back in the general direction of our starting point when one of the Other Guy's friends hailed him. He introduced himself and his companion around, rendering our new brief group of six in violation of the Palo Alto civil code that prohibits a gathering of more than two $NAMEs in the same two city blocks, as he made the third. :-P
Purple drove me back to work where Vash still was. I discovered that he had never heard Hard & Phirm's "Not Illegal". I'd left a few things in my cube, and while I don't feel unsafe in the parking lot (barring that recklessly-driven white van) some company is always appreciated. So Purple parked next to Vash, we walked in, grabbed my gear, and walked back out.
I laughed a lot tonight. I feel great.
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