azurelunatic: Blue-iced cupcake with sprinkles.  (cupcake)
Azure Jane Lunatic (Azz) 🌺 ([personal profile] azurelunatic) wrote2016-05-21 05:22 am

A Friday, with the lingering scent of waffles in the air

Dreams which are Just Not Fair, Yo:
one in which A Certain Person wanders close and gently brushes a kiss against your lips.
And then later, again, followed by an "I love you."
And again, just to make sure I'd start to believe it.

In dreams, there's barely any height difference unless there needs to be. For that, there's not very much.

Waking up out of that is not fair.

Thursday night's dinner was at a place I'd not been before, but immediately decided should be added to our dinner rotation. I shared with Purple, who was in accordance, but also doubted how much parking there'd be on a Friday night. I think perhaps we'll try it some early weeknight.

It was beer & shenanigans night, so I went down to hang out with some of the crew. R saw me first, and wandered over to say hi. She has a set of headphones similar to mine now -- she saw mine and decided they were amazingly cool (I have my doubts about the headphones but they're handy) so she got some. Hers are blue too. Purple arrived, and then Mr. Tux. Purple was late because he was saying goodbye to Mr. Netflix, who is headed off somewhere. (Perhaps he and J will be co-workers soonish?)

I saw W walking off towards the gym with her iPod and gym bag, and waved. She came over to the fire pit to say hello; we cheerfully continued our conversation about that brief window of time in 2010 when it was possible to get near-complete access to someone's LJ account using this one weird trick, and why internal documentation is super important.

I saw the Singing PM wander past, and hailed her. She met Mr. Tux, who is on the other side of the atrium in the same building as she is.

Eventually I happened to glance over at the right moment and saw the retreating ponytail of lb. I hollered after him, and he wandered over to say hello and spend some time chatting. There was various hilarity.

lb got chilly and Mr. Tux had to head out, so Purple called Ms. Antisocialest Butterfly and agreed on dinner, and a time and place. Then he and I retreated inside to his office. He didn't have anything pressing to wrap up. The Team That Was (well, the remnants, and their guests) had gone upstairs for waffles and gossip. I suggested we go up and join them for a bit. Purple found the idea agreeable, and so we did after a pit stop. At which point I learned that they in fact had put up some black plastic or something over the wide cracks between the panels of the accessible stall in the ladies' room. This apparently in response to my ticket. Purple says they have not done the same for the men's room.

We saw the crew fairly immediately, and joined the group for a good old-fashioned gossip. Apparently Chip had experienced a really pretty bad day yesterday. Chip is the kind of guy who exudes what one of the crew calls "animal magnetism": humans want to help him, but machines just up and malfunction around him with the sort of uncanny regularity that could be confirmation bias but is either infuriating or hilarious (depending on your perspective). Most recently, iPhone death followed by the entire pizza place having their computerized cash register system crash the moment he walked in, followed by (not technological but part of this complete terrible day) some random street guy screaming at him. Chip was not there, being as he was elsewhere Dealing With Stuff.

Purple has met bits of the crew before, but has now met more of them. This is good, because a nonzero number of them are now in the same building with him, and it'll help everyone to know more of their buildingmates.

Eventually they headed off for actual waffling, and we headed down to Purple's office to chat a little more before heading off for dinner. I decided to untangle my hair. I'd washed it and then left it mostly loose, and in less than four hours it had developed some distinct knots. I meeped and swore while combing them out. Purple will never doubt me again when I mention that my hair knots spontaneously, I think...

Purple and I are incapable of walking down a hall normally. This time I was walking at a weird position so he ducked behind me to walk on my other side, just as I realized that I was walking in the middle and stepped to the side to get out of his way -- then of course we both ducked back to the other side. Simultaneously. We're great...

We arrived at dinner in a timely fashion and even got decently close parking spots. (This is rare.) I had been a little spacey all evening, because brains.

One of the great things about dinner with Purple is that we have similar tastes in drinks, which means that I can order a drink, have a quarter to half of it, and cheerfully give him the rest.

"I recognize the irony in asking the faceblind person to identify our waiter." I had, however, noticed the color and location of the ends of her hair. Purple had not. "Well, at least I can tell you're not complete swine," I said jokingly, and then muttered an inquiry to him too soft for Ms. Antisocialest Butterfly to hear. His answer (also too quiet to be overheard) had me laughing and facepalming. ("Cup size and ass?" "You're going to hit me for this... not big enough.") I don't tend to take it out on my friends when they're being self-aware and I was the one to initiate prying.

Outback has managed to get the effect of McDonald's fries in a cube. I stabbed one, nibbled at it, then declared this to the table in general. Purple doubted. I declared that he should taste for himself. He did. He agreed. Ms. Antisocialest Butterfly followed suit.

We had a pleasant and somewhat silly dinner. I related some of the recent adventures of a friend vs. the poor power button placement on their new tower, and then my adventures with the vacuum cleaner which works much better when it's plugged in. Ms. Antisocialest Butterfly has had continuing adventures with the possums in her yard, and the radio antenna on her truck gets about halfway up and then makes weird noises.

Ms. Antisocialest Butterfly gets very confused when I dip into my stash of antiquated insults and call Purple a cad and a bounder for some apparent excessive personal liberty. (I'm not sure what it was; he said something and I was terribly amused and then started calling him names in mock indignation.)

The party headed for the parking lot. Purple and I talked Maker Faire logistics, and musicgeeking (mostly him, though I'm always interested). We started out leaning against the side of my car, but when the car next to mine beeped, we moved around to leaning against the back so they'd not be inconvenienced.

We'll see each other Sunday. Probably no dinner thanks to logistical details -- Caltrain limits the options somewhat.

Tomorrow, I'm going to see if I can get to the zipper-bag event. Great fun last time. Also I need to see about getting the Current Crocheting Project photographed properly, and the car detailed (first of probably 2) before the road trip.

Post a comment in response:

Anonymous( )Anonymous This account has disabled anonymous posting.
OpenID( )OpenID You can comment on this post while signed in with an account from many other sites, once you have confirmed your email address. Sign in using OpenID.
Account name:
If you don't have an account you can create one now.
HTML doesn't work in the subject.


If you are unable to use this captcha for any reason, please contact us by email at

Notice: This account is set to log the IP addresses of everyone who comments.
Links will be displayed as unclickable URLs to help prevent spam.