Azure Jane Lunatic (Azz) 🌺 (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
azurelunatic) wrote2014-09-16 02:36 am
azurelunatic) wrote2014-09-16 02:36 am
Lemon-flavored cheer
Work involved minimal direct fuckery, although I anticipate a debriefing which may be *epic* from some of my colleagues in the project of Keeping Shit Less Fucked. There was also a really delicious lemon and raspberry cupcake on my desk, which was good because the ones on the collaboration table had nearly all vanished by the time I came in, and the last few evaporated by mid-afternoon to many exclamations of delight from the team. "These muffins are REALLY GOOD!" -Researcher Carmageddon's ex-officemate
I need to start pinging Purple before wandering over, in case there's just a little bit more to do before it's possible to head out. Heh. Although we fairly well erased the advantages of getting out at the time we did by accidentally spending two and a half hours talking in the parking lot. Oops. (There was a lot to talk about.)
In the portion of the discussion about childhood adventures with names (and how my wallet name really isn't the one I answer to), he mentioned that one of the lovely fun things his elementary schoolmates had tried was calling him by the feminine equivalent of his name. I cocked my head at him. "You've always looked more like a [different name] to me," I said.
So then we had to get into *why*. Back in February, Purple had occasion to check the office mailbox, and saw my name on a couple envelopes. This resulted in the use of the phrase "mail fairy." Which got hilarious. In the intervening months, the costume in my head went from a not particularly flattering purple getup to a really rather nice green satin bustier with a dense netting skirt, with the obligatory matching wings and toe shoes with long, long ribbons. From there we got onto the topic of Second Life...
There was a certain amount of security presence in the parking lot. If That Security Guard was among them, I hope he came to the entirely wrong conclusion about the nature of my relationship with Purple. While it is shitty and patriarchal if a guy attributes more weight to "woops, she is the property of some other guy" than to "actually she doesn't seem that into me", if That Security Guard decides to drop the matter with no further conversation, then we will not have an awkward conversation about the matter. And while he has brought the awkward to the conversation and all I would be doing is hanging a lampshade on it, it is still not an exchange that I relish. (I do thrive on a certain kind of Potential High Drama, but thaaaaat's not one of the ones I signed up for.)
Purple and I compared some scars. I didn't pull down my shirt to show him the scar from the hot soup. It's not really a great one to show in a work parking lot, even if it's something I'd show in a tank top.
We got on to the topic of lettuce. Purple is adamantly against iceberg lettuce in nearly every particular. I believe that it has a place, and in addition to the wrapping-for-real-food that Purple allots it, it is decent in burritos, where it is less wilty and also less strongly flavored than some other lettuces. This resulted in some happy chatter about delicious, delicious salads, and the party broke up in favor of dinner.
I need to start pinging Purple before wandering over, in case there's just a little bit more to do before it's possible to head out. Heh. Although we fairly well erased the advantages of getting out at the time we did by accidentally spending two and a half hours talking in the parking lot. Oops. (There was a lot to talk about.)
In the portion of the discussion about childhood adventures with names (and how my wallet name really isn't the one I answer to), he mentioned that one of the lovely fun things his elementary schoolmates had tried was calling him by the feminine equivalent of his name. I cocked my head at him. "You've always looked more like a [different name] to me," I said.
So then we had to get into *why*. Back in February, Purple had occasion to check the office mailbox, and saw my name on a couple envelopes. This resulted in the use of the phrase "mail fairy." Which got hilarious. In the intervening months, the costume in my head went from a not particularly flattering purple getup to a really rather nice green satin bustier with a dense netting skirt, with the obligatory matching wings and toe shoes with long, long ribbons. From there we got onto the topic of Second Life...
There was a certain amount of security presence in the parking lot. If That Security Guard was among them, I hope he came to the entirely wrong conclusion about the nature of my relationship with Purple. While it is shitty and patriarchal if a guy attributes more weight to "woops, she is the property of some other guy" than to "actually she doesn't seem that into me", if That Security Guard decides to drop the matter with no further conversation, then we will not have an awkward conversation about the matter. And while he has brought the awkward to the conversation and all I would be doing is hanging a lampshade on it, it is still not an exchange that I relish. (I do thrive on a certain kind of Potential High Drama, but thaaaaat's not one of the ones I signed up for.)
Purple and I compared some scars. I didn't pull down my shirt to show him the scar from the hot soup. It's not really a great one to show in a work parking lot, even if it's something I'd show in a tank top.
We got on to the topic of lettuce. Purple is adamantly against iceberg lettuce in nearly every particular. I believe that it has a place, and in addition to the wrapping-for-real-food that Purple allots it, it is decent in burritos, where it is less wilty and also less strongly flavored than some other lettuces. This resulted in some happy chatter about delicious, delicious salads, and the party broke up in favor of dinner.