Azure Jane Lunatic (Azz) 🌺 (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
azurelunatic) wrote2015-12-03 10:57 pm
azurelunatic) wrote2015-12-03 10:57 pm
Cnt tlk wiv my mouf fuu ov mrshmrllo
As scheduled, quite a bit of #cupcake ducked out from their desks around 5:30-ish on Tuesday. With a nominal effort at stealth, we assembled around the fire pit. I saw radius out looking for me on my way over, and showed him how to operate the fire in the fire pit. Rain had been collecting in the seats, so we brushed them off.
One of the reasons the gathering was more urgent than it might have been is that radius is headed back to his alternate universe home Down Under, perhaps this month but definitely by the beginning of next year. He'll be back around, as he's still Working Here, just ... working from there. So we are getting our cupcakery in while we have the chance.
Assembled included me, radius, the guy in the office next door to radius (a new #cupcake arrival), Purple, the scruffy gay Canadian guy from the UK whose office has the unnecessarily gendered bananas, the Dean and his younger kid, and eventually Mr. Tux. There was chocolate. There were marshmallows. There were graham crackers and Danish butter cookies. There was better chocolate. There were roasting forks. There were very valiant attempts at avoiding making any sort of obscene joke that the kid would pick up on when the marshmallow slid down the shaft of the hot dog sized roasting fork in a trail of white goo, and the subsequent introduction of the scruffy gay Canadian guy from the UK to his first s'more ever. Not everyone was careful to check the seats before sitting down, and the scruffy gay Canadian guy from the UK (he really needs a nickname, and I should check to see whether he's already been assigned one) got "wet bum". Happily, there was fire to help with that.
We gossiped. We told scary stories. A ... lot of them were dev or ops flavored. (Hushed ominous voice: "... and he thought he had a viable backup." *gasps*)
One of the guys had been thinking it would be too cold, and how would we keep warm? It turns out, fire is pretty good at that. I was wrapped up in two jackets and an ankle-length cloak, which also helped.
Dark chocolate salted caramel Ghirardelli squares are *fabulous* in s'mores. The almond toffee kind are also great. To Purple's dismay, the dark chocolate mint cream kind were not so great in that combination.
Purple had offered to give radius a lift home, and the scruffy gay Canadian guy from the UK got a lift as far East as Purple was going. We collected in Purple's office for a little more (warmer) gossip. Someone had a wardrobe malfunction -- the scruffy gay Canadian guy from the UK had forgotten his belt, and it turns out that when that happens, his zipper becomes migratory. We talked about the logistics of the Internet of Things (In Your Trousers), and whether a self-zipping fly was practical (no), and how you'd do a fly status monitoring thingy. Plus exploits.
We trooped out to the parking lot. I told radius and the s.g.C.g.f.t.UK about that time that my high school's academic decathlon team did (and then did not) get disqualified from the state competition (yet again), the Hotel Windows Are High Up edition, after the discussion about how many birds it would take to poop on a smartcar to total it. (A lot.) Purple had already heard that story. heh.
One of the little signposts by which I judge the world is the presence and/or nature of the customary goodnight hug. Typically this is not an event observed by co-workers. There have been times when the presence of observers has bent both of us in the direction of this not being a moment that ought to be presented for misinterpretation. This was not that kind of evening. After a fleeting side-hug (that friend to awkward teenagers everywhere) we were all on our merry ways.
One of the reasons the gathering was more urgent than it might have been is that radius is headed back to his alternate universe home Down Under, perhaps this month but definitely by the beginning of next year. He'll be back around, as he's still Working Here, just ... working from there. So we are getting our cupcakery in while we have the chance.
Assembled included me, radius, the guy in the office next door to radius (a new #cupcake arrival), Purple, the scruffy gay Canadian guy from the UK whose office has the unnecessarily gendered bananas, the Dean and his younger kid, and eventually Mr. Tux. There was chocolate. There were marshmallows. There were graham crackers and Danish butter cookies. There was better chocolate. There were roasting forks. There were very valiant attempts at avoiding making any sort of obscene joke that the kid would pick up on when the marshmallow slid down the shaft of the hot dog sized roasting fork in a trail of white goo, and the subsequent introduction of the scruffy gay Canadian guy from the UK to his first s'more ever. Not everyone was careful to check the seats before sitting down, and the scruffy gay Canadian guy from the UK (he really needs a nickname, and I should check to see whether he's already been assigned one) got "wet bum". Happily, there was fire to help with that.
We gossiped. We told scary stories. A ... lot of them were dev or ops flavored. (Hushed ominous voice: "... and he thought he had a viable backup." *gasps*)
One of the guys had been thinking it would be too cold, and how would we keep warm? It turns out, fire is pretty good at that. I was wrapped up in two jackets and an ankle-length cloak, which also helped.
Dark chocolate salted caramel Ghirardelli squares are *fabulous* in s'mores. The almond toffee kind are also great. To Purple's dismay, the dark chocolate mint cream kind were not so great in that combination.
Purple had offered to give radius a lift home, and the scruffy gay Canadian guy from the UK got a lift as far East as Purple was going. We collected in Purple's office for a little more (warmer) gossip. Someone had a wardrobe malfunction -- the scruffy gay Canadian guy from the UK had forgotten his belt, and it turns out that when that happens, his zipper becomes migratory. We talked about the logistics of the Internet of Things (In Your Trousers), and whether a self-zipping fly was practical (no), and how you'd do a fly status monitoring thingy. Plus exploits.
We trooped out to the parking lot. I told radius and the s.g.C.g.f.t.UK about that time that my high school's academic decathlon team did (and then did not) get disqualified from the state competition (yet again), the Hotel Windows Are High Up edition, after the discussion about how many birds it would take to poop on a smartcar to total it. (A lot.) Purple had already heard that story. heh.
One of the little signposts by which I judge the world is the presence and/or nature of the customary goodnight hug. Typically this is not an event observed by co-workers. There have been times when the presence of observers has bent both of us in the direction of this not being a moment that ought to be presented for misinterpretation. This was not that kind of evening. After a fleeting side-hug (that friend to awkward teenagers everywhere) we were all on our merry ways.
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One of the best subgenres of scary stories.
"...And that was when she discovered she was in the root directory."
"They opened up the case, and a floor of roaches swarmed out!"
"But even as he tried to switch tabs to see if the n00b had really followed his advice and typed rm -rf, his terminal stopped responding. He had typed the command in the wrong tab himself!"
"the ping was coming from inside the house!"
"man door hand hook magnet server!"
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