Azure Jane Lunatic (Azz) 🌺 (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
azurelunatic) wrote2014-11-11 12:31 am
azurelunatic) wrote2014-11-11 12:31 am
The little lines on the 8 are not hair, they're bloodshot eyes.
This weekend, sithjawa and I had a conversation about the text-art symbol 8=====D, wherein I claimed it was a dick, and the-Sith could only see a horse face in it. This culminated in me declaring that I would henceforth devote my life to drawing dicks on horses' faces with chalk. (This went into the NaNo.)
This was followed by a discussion with my manager in our 1:1 about some of the difficulties involved in purchasing greeting cards. See, my manager lives with her husband in the Castro district of San Francisco. The discerning patron of the geographic arts may realize that the phrases "her husband" and "the Castro" indicate that perhaps they are not the most demographically typical denizens of that neighborhood. She likes to get cards for various situations at her little local neighborhood card shop. This has led to ... incidents ... in the past. Apparently her parents got an anniversary card at some point which had some nudity in it. She doesn't always notice anymore!
This may make me the gatekeeper between my manager and accidentally sending customers at work $WINTERHOLIDAY cards with dicks in them. I look at the vagaries of fate which have put me in this situation and I just kind of have to laugh.
(Apparently the Castro can result in wackiness when her family comes to visit. She doesn't really register the guys with all their package unwrapped anymore. Her dad doesn't notice. The niblets notice, but those conversations tend to go like: "Auntie, that guy isn't wearing any clothes." "He sure isn't." "Can I take off my clothes too?" "NO." It's her brother who tends to pitch shitfits. Since everybody else takes it in stride, she's pretty sure the problem is him.)
Lunch with the guys involved some discussion of drunken shenanigans. All of us are too grown-up to Do Things Like That Anymore. None of us did particularly much. Many of us had friends. The Rollercoaster Tycoon told the tale where he and two other guys had been still a bit impaired the morning after. The very drunk guy decided he needed to pee. So he unzips and starts peeing into a bush right there on the street. He has seen the campus tour coming down the street, but in his condition he does not particularly care. The third guy sees this, and proceeds to shove the peeing guy deeper into the bush in order to help conceal him from the tour. At this point the Rollercoaster Tycoon decides it's time to wander away from these clowns. And then I mentioned the drunkest I'd ever been, 5 shots of whiskey in a row basically, at Shawn's, nobody was wearing any clothes at this point, and I needed to pee. This is midwinter in Alaska. Below freezing, not *that* far below (everyone but Purple winces; Purple nods sagely) and so I just put on my boots; the part where I narrowly escape falling in the snowbank is hi*lar*ious...
It's possible that including an Audre Lorde quote in my weekly status update was not perhaps the most politic of choices. On the other hand, "The master's tools will never dismantle the master's house, but it's also pretty hard to do with a pleather loon beak" (in context of the helpdesk software) is the sort of surrealism that people have come to expect from me.
My weekend was not exactly the least amount of pain I have experienced lately. I went over to Guide Dog Aunt's for movie night, and learned what was up with the poodle. She'd been leaving him to his cow ears toothbrushing-wise for a while, but decided to do the thing with the actual toothbrush. Upon which she had discovered some sort of growth on his gums. Shortly thereafter the phrase "the poodle's oncologist" entered her life, and the poodle had several teeth and a chunk of jaw removed, along with the growth. He's now recovering nicely in the Cone of Shame. We watched two movies (The Full Monty and then something heartwarming about a football player) and I developed a headache, which turned light-sensitive for the subsequent twelve hours. Oof. And basically as soon as I was feeling okay after that, my left shoulder decided that it was going to be all ouchy. This morning, the screw dropped out of my good glasses. Fortunately I had spares in the car, and spares at work. Unfortunately the car spares are blue, and the work spares cut off my peripheral vision and that makes me dizzy. Tomorrow's going to involve a trip to some glasses place. So I've spent much of today trying to not tip over, and with a hot rice pack on my shoulder. (Much to Purple's confusion, as it is my cellphone-drying rice tied up in a pinkcoal-silk nylon IKEA bag, and it looked like a large decorative pink bow perched on my shoulder.)
Purple gives me lemon ones out of the Lemonhead And Friends boxes. It's very sweet. We are united in our distaste for the green apple ones. He handed me one to try the other night, I tried it, and then disposed of the rest.
Purple said something sympathetic about the freakin' meat bags and the pain, so I explained where I was in the line for a robot body. (Somewhere behindzarhooie.) He hugged me carefully, and hoped I could find a comfortable position to sleep, one where my muscles could decide to unwind. Good Purple.
sithjawa and I had a conversation about the text-art symbol 8=====D, wherein I claimed it was a dick, and the-Sith could only see a horse face in it. This culminated in me declaring that I would henceforth devote my life to drawing dicks on horses' faces with chalk. (This went into the NaNo.) This was followed by a discussion with my manager in our 1:1 about some of the difficulties involved in purchasing greeting cards. See, my manager lives with her husband in the Castro district of San Francisco. The discerning patron of the geographic arts may realize that the phrases "her husband" and "the Castro" indicate that perhaps they are not the most demographically typical denizens of that neighborhood. She likes to get cards for various situations at her little local neighborhood card shop. This has led to ... incidents ... in the past. Apparently her parents got an anniversary card at some point which had some nudity in it. She doesn't always notice anymore!
This may make me the gatekeeper between my manager and accidentally sending customers at work $WINTERHOLIDAY cards with dicks in them. I look at the vagaries of fate which have put me in this situation and I just kind of have to laugh.
(Apparently the Castro can result in wackiness when her family comes to visit. She doesn't really register the guys with all their package unwrapped anymore. Her dad doesn't notice. The niblets notice, but those conversations tend to go like: "Auntie, that guy isn't wearing any clothes." "He sure isn't." "Can I take off my clothes too?" "NO." It's her brother who tends to pitch shitfits. Since everybody else takes it in stride, she's pretty sure the problem is him.)
Lunch with the guys involved some discussion of drunken shenanigans. All of us are too grown-up to Do Things Like That Anymore. None of us did particularly much. Many of us had friends. The Rollercoaster Tycoon told the tale where he and two other guys had been still a bit impaired the morning after. The very drunk guy decided he needed to pee. So he unzips and starts peeing into a bush right there on the street. He has seen the campus tour coming down the street, but in his condition he does not particularly care. The third guy sees this, and proceeds to shove the peeing guy deeper into the bush in order to help conceal him from the tour. At this point the Rollercoaster Tycoon decides it's time to wander away from these clowns. And then I mentioned the drunkest I'd ever been, 5 shots of whiskey in a row basically, at Shawn's, nobody was wearing any clothes at this point, and I needed to pee. This is midwinter in Alaska. Below freezing, not *that* far below (everyone but Purple winces; Purple nods sagely) and so I just put on my boots; the part where I narrowly escape falling in the snowbank is hi*lar*ious...
It's possible that including an Audre Lorde quote in my weekly status update was not perhaps the most politic of choices. On the other hand, "The master's tools will never dismantle the master's house, but it's also pretty hard to do with a pleather loon beak" (in context of the helpdesk software) is the sort of surrealism that people have come to expect from me.
My weekend was not exactly the least amount of pain I have experienced lately. I went over to Guide Dog Aunt's for movie night, and learned what was up with the poodle. She'd been leaving him to his cow ears toothbrushing-wise for a while, but decided to do the thing with the actual toothbrush. Upon which she had discovered some sort of growth on his gums. Shortly thereafter the phrase "the poodle's oncologist" entered her life, and the poodle had several teeth and a chunk of jaw removed, along with the growth. He's now recovering nicely in the Cone of Shame. We watched two movies (The Full Monty and then something heartwarming about a football player) and I developed a headache, which turned light-sensitive for the subsequent twelve hours. Oof. And basically as soon as I was feeling okay after that, my left shoulder decided that it was going to be all ouchy. This morning, the screw dropped out of my good glasses. Fortunately I had spares in the car, and spares at work. Unfortunately the car spares are blue, and the work spares cut off my peripheral vision and that makes me dizzy. Tomorrow's going to involve a trip to some glasses place. So I've spent much of today trying to not tip over, and with a hot rice pack on my shoulder. (Much to Purple's confusion, as it is my cellphone-drying rice tied up in a pink
Purple gives me lemon ones out of the Lemonhead And Friends boxes. It's very sweet. We are united in our distaste for the green apple ones. He handed me one to try the other night, I tried it, and then disposed of the rest.
Purple said something sympathetic about the freakin' meat bags and the pain, so I explained where I was in the line for a robot body. (Somewhere behind
zarhooie.) He hugged me carefully, and hoped I could find a comfortable position to sleep, one where my muscles could decide to unwind. Good Purple.
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By complete coincidence, I still had http://commodorified.dreamwidth.org/146751.html open in my phone browser. If I leave this position, I will have many things to write up.
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That's the Castro, all right. Desensitization for the whole family.