azurelunatic: Polished piece of rainbow fluorite (purple)
So last night the box of one dozen starving, angry brainweasels immediately latched onto my face and started bitin' me all overlocked.

This morning I woke up, and on my way past the hall mirror, I went "... wait, how many zits is my nose hosting? GODDAMMIT." And just now, Clue is asking me if there's anything that I want to tell it today.

I hate it when this happens. The fucking hormones fuck up my mood, and then any little thing can just set it the fuck off, and I implode for a miserable few hours until the bupropion helps me reset.


Because I have learned that even when the reason I'm so upset about something is all out of proportion with the actual problem, and if it seems at all like it might be a legitimate beef when I'm not actually having An Episode, things go better when I address it -- this way there is less opportunity for resentment and misunderstanding and noncommunication to creep in.

Therefore this evening I asked Purple whether it would be possible to schedule a meetup before he leaves, if by some mean twist of fate he didn't make it out this way for the party. (And that I trusted his intent, but that bad fortune had a habit of striking his trips out this way.)

Purple reassured my paranoid brain that, barring some kind of incident involving bouncing off the repellent forcefield surrounding certain nasty public figures or coming down with something contagious, he would be there, and in fact he had rearranged his schedule quite substantially in order to make that happen. He's had the brainweasels before, and he doesn't like 'em. He conveyed sympathy.

Also there's beer bash tomorrow, even though it's also 2600 night.
azurelunatic: Blue-iced cupcake with sprinkles.  (cupcake)
Dreams which are Just Not Fair, Yo:
Read more... )
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.

Read more... )
azurelunatic: Chickens saying "Cluck Cluck Your Mother's" (cluck)
Been a while since a proper update! This is not quite a proper update, but at least it's substantial?


"I found whistles, maracas, 5 hour energy, coffee mugs, headphones, and a cellphone charger, but I did not find the other webcam."


Faceblindness! It's fun for the whole family! I'm not sure if I've properly told the "some woman" story about my faceblindness on DW as yet, but it's become my go-to story for "no, really, Rev. Lunatic is faceblind" though to be fair, Mama says that it took seeing Tay walk (well, bounce) in the airport to recognize her, since she's changed a lot.

However, in compensation, I have a small non-face-related superpower. I had a really fun encounter in the past year-ish where lb showed me some photos from his mid-90s college crew, and I was able to identify lb in a group photo where lb himself wasn't quite sure which of two people he was. This was based on my knowledge of how lb stands, and another photo which established what lb was wearing. Read more... )

I cannot perform this party trick with just anyone, but I can usually spot Purple in very large group shots if I know vaguely where he was in the crowd. Sometimes it's based on a sneaker. (Purple wears white sneakers that trend increasingly towards grey and ragged until he gets replacements. He also lounges ostentatiously, Kirklike/catlike. I find both somewhat endearing, but I would.)


One of my forms of comfortgoogling is chicken pictures. Current small pet peeve: when any old picture of a hen on a nest is used to illustrate "broody". Broody is a very specific state of chicken, generally characterized by unwillingness to get off the nest and hoard eggs, and sit there until the chicks hatch. Broodies are cranky, will cut you, have flattened themselves on the nests with wings slightly out away from their sides, have their necks pulled way down into their feathers and their tails raised so usually the tail-bump is higher than the head. They make a characteristic rhythmic "clook ... clook ... clook ..." noise (similar to the syllable of the rapid "buk-buk-buk" tidbitting noise but more spaced out, and more relaxed than any part of the "buk-buk-buk-buk-ba-DAWK-et!" alarm call which often follows egg-laying, fox sighting, bush rustling, or Disturbance in the Force). If you try to steal their eggs, they will growl/roar and also try and cut you.


Fishie is finishing up sophomore year at college. (OMG, how time flies.) She'll be 20 soon. She's majoring in computer science now, and doing things like acing the midterm where the median grade was ... not super great. The teacher for that class will be pleased to write her an academic recommendation, and says that she'll be able to do anything she puts her mind to. I am so proud of her. She works so hard, and she's getting so much better at picking her battles. She has been figuring out her summer activities: after finals, she goes to her internship Down South. After that she may wind up going to see her grandma, and after that, spending time with a friend in San Diego.

The concept of "like 5, 6 nice" has entered our dialogues because Fishie's Terrible Mom #yamappendix would make a big deal like "I AM BEING THE NICEST PERSON EVARRRR BECAUSE I LOVE YOU SO MUCH" when doing normal and expected things. So when Fishie encounters people who are being genuinely kind, she is equally floored by small kindnesses that don't inconvenience others, and big kindnesses which do inconvenience others. It's all pegged at like 10 nice for her, when someone with a scale that isn't at "Mommy is an abusive fuckwad Read more... )" might view it as maybe a 3,4 nice.


For those who don't dwell anywhere near Silly Valley and also aren't tapped in to the latest tech tat, "hoverboards" have been A Thing for a while. It used to be that there was just the one dude at work who rode one around, and he was proficient and discreet except for how he was going pretty fast and kind of gliding. Now, of course, many tech bros with more money than sense either have one of their own, or have access to one. Thus it was that one dude who I IRC with wound up in the ER one fine evening after doing a wipeout on his hoverboard while at work. In a subsequent all-hands at his company, there was a safety admonishment about unwise hoverboard usage.
Tech Bro 1: "haha bet I know what happened."
Tech Bro 2: "hahah yeah I heard about that."
Tech Bro 1: "sucks that K had to go to the ER tho."
Tech Bro 2: "wait, K had a wipeout too? I was talking about X."
Tech Bro 1: "Oh, what happened with X?"
Multiple hoverboard collisions in one week: not a good thing.


One of the best days of my young life was the day my father brought home a label-maker. It was a about the size of a large typewriter. I recall it having a few large font wheels. We started labeling everything. We kids dubbed it "The Advance", because it had a large key labeled "Advance" in place of an Enter/Return key. The key fed blank tape.
One of the most tragic and terrifying days of my young life was the day when the label-maker caught on fire. I saw black smoke rising up out of it, and immediately began screaming and jumping up and down. Fortunately it was winter. This meant that the appropriate response, which my dad immediately took, was to unplug it, pick it up (it was smoking, not flaming) and hurl it out the front door into a convenient snowbank.
After that we didn't have a label-maker anymore.


"I feel like both of these perspectives are valid, but they're not compatible."


Being around a whole whackton of other non-binary-gendered folks has helped me focus my gender identity feels some. It looks like the identity that best fits is agender. Non-male-identified, though sometimes I present masc and sometimes I present High Soft Femme. Though maintaining High Femme feels kind of like the thing where you're clamping down in the vain hope that you won't bleed all over everything before you get to a bathroom with supplies.

"... a bit of a radfem (without the skateboard)" (said of a radical feminist who might not so much be the "raaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaadical, duuuuuuuude!" kind)


Hard problems in gender, privacy, and community safety: where is the line between outing and community safety, when you happen to know that someone who has Caused Problems Before is in a community [a different one] under an identity that is at least slightly discontinuous with their old one, and the new identity is tied to a gender marker change (and the old identity is really most sincerely dead)? (Tentative answer: take it case by case and hope you get it right.)


Once upon a time, Reverend Lunatic gave themselves hiccups as the result of an orgasm. Once not that long ago ... Read more... )


I have started watching the Great British Bake-Off, finally. It is so charming! I appreciate that all the contestants and guests are treated respectfully by the editing and camera, in a way that US television rarely does. And it's just so amazingly sweet!


Now that the conference is wrapping up, I'm down to just job-searching with a side of wrap-up work, not job-searching AND ALL THE CONFERENCE. This makes more time to tidy. Last fall, I'd decided to re-arrange my apartment. It got halted halfway through, and the result was nothing short of chaotic (though better arranged for certain things like sleep and computer). I decided that enough was enough, and I would work slowly but steadily in the direction of making it guest-appropriate. It's been coming along nicely, though it still is like a bit of a wacky game of 2048, where you have to calculate and carefully merge two things into the same space without upsetting anything else or making anything important too hard to reach quickly. This has resulted in random acts of mending, because part of this is seeing problems and fixing them.


My favorite hair ornament is a little basket of wires that's secured with two long metal spikes with glass knobs at the ends. Unfortunately, our relative heights are such that when I wear it, I spike Purple in the face with it when he hugs me goodnight. I have determined that I will seek alternate updo-securement, and have located a thing or two which should work better. Purple was a little "but you didn't have to -- it didn't draw *blood*!" when I showed him. :>
azurelunatic: A glittery black pin badge with a blue holographic star in the middle. (Default)
So I headed off to phone's party! phone lives not that far away from the conference venue, and the party was already swinging pretty vividly when I got there. I found parking (leaving a space behind me) and came in, bearing a small potted rose and the tray of sandwiches. The apartment was cheerfully decorated visible from outside with some delightful purple fairy lights. The level of sparkle visible from without was only a hint at the level of sparkle within. phone's boyfriend answered the door. He is an elegantly flamboyant man of a certain age, with a flair for striking outfits and costumes. On this occasion he was wearing a skin-tight silver jumpsuit with a mesh sweater over top and also amazing high-heeled silver holographic boots. He was not the only person wearing a super-sparkly outfit that night, as there was a guy in a long robe and top hat both made out of flat-sequined silver fabric (with reflectors larger than my beloved late disco ball dress, but similar). There were all sorts of colored sparkly lights. I got a drink and found a chair in the corner, where I wound up chatting with Jen, who has a small flock of chickens and a number of amusing (and occasionally terrible) stories involving them. Exactly my kind of person. Her husband was also at the party. phone tried to troubleshoot the rainbow fairy lights.

I texted Purple to let him know I was there, since I hadn't seen him. He texted back to say he would be there in about 20. And in about 20, I saw his silhouette through the patio door, and then he was coming out back and saying hi to phone and taking his accustomed place next to me. We had a silly exchange and he ruffled my hair. When he wandered off to grab a drink after a while, the party shifted around, and a small crowd gathered in my corner. I noticed him come back with drink in hand, notice the crowd, shrug, and strike up a conversation with someone near him. I wasn't bothered: Jen and I were getting on quite well.

Jen is a non-techie. phone's boyfriend is a non-techie. Jen, Jen's husband, phone's boyfriend, and I got in a discussion about some of the ways that conversations involving techies can go. The phrase "I need sympathy, not troubleshooting" can be key. (I looked fondly over at the very nicely sympathetic techie holding the neon green drink, holding forth on some topic with phone.)

The party shifted again, and sight lines between Purple and me were restored. We flashed an ironic wave at each other, and Purple made a semi-apology for not having come back directly that matched my assessment. (And, again, I'd been having a great time talking to Jen, so it wasn't like I was completely on my own at this party, even though I knew three, now four, people there out of quite a few more than four.)

It turns out that not only was Jen's husband at the party, but Jen's husband has known phone for years and years and years online, and has also known Purple for years and years, but this was the first time they'd met in person. The meeting was pleasing to both of them, and I was delighted to witness it.

It began to get chilly, so everyone went inside. I had already passed my step count for the day, so standing up was not the best idea for my back, but it was the best idea in light of the crowd. I wound up in the kitchen chatting with Jen's husband, tucked comfortably in a corner at Purple's elbow. There was enough light, finally, that I could see what was on my plate. I sighed and showed Purple some diced bell pepper. He laughed at me, and explained to Jen's husband that I had been in an un-merry war with work catering over bell peppers.

Jen's husband changed places with phone's boyfriend, and desserts were sampled. Someone found the raspberry bars; Purple nabbed one; I asked if he could pass me one; he handed me the first while claiming another for himself. Raspberry bar relay. Despite my back's complaints, it was nice being there: insulated from the most intense bits of crowd, but still engaging.

phone wandered up and chatted with us while his boyfriend circulated. People started filtering over to say goodnight to phone and wish him happy birthday, including the guy who had been wearing the disco ball robe until he'd changed back into street clothes.

At length the party size shrank, until at last it was phone and his boyfriend, Jen and her husband, Purple, and me. I was in one corner of the couch, Jen was curled up next to me, and eventually her husband sat down at the other end. "Fuck" is not just a spice, it's punctuation, except most editors would take a red pen to that many punctuation marks. It turns out that when Jen and I get going, we might sort of feed off each other a bit. phone likes it when I swear about the helldesk software, because when I get going, I really get going. Sometimes I get somewhat creative beyond the mere f-bomb, too...

At one point someone claimed that the iPad was not a data entry device; I declared that one could helpfully render it one by means of a portable keyboard, and that I had one in my pocket. Purple claimed that I had too many things in my pockets. Someone, perhaps phone, made a "Precious" joke, and my hand diverted its path. I had been going for the pocket that contained the keyboard. I was now going for the shorts pocket with the little brocade box with the mirror inside: the one that just that morning I had loaded with a few BPAL vials, a USB stick, my pair of shiny peacock earrings, a lip balm, and other bits of jewelry that I hadn't wanted to wear while possibly hauling tables around at the conference. Including -- I held a shiny silver ring aloft. phone cracked up.

Shortly after midnight the party broke up. Purple had parked right behind me, so we walked out together. He stuck around while I fished through three bags in search of my satnav, which I found in the last place I looked for it, then very carefully dodged the spikes in my hairdo after hugging me goodnight. I'm not usually quite so spiky!


To say "this party was better than any of Shawn's parties" demeans this party merely by the comparison, but that's the only referent I have for some of the vibe. This was what Shawn's parties wanted to be when they grew up.
azurelunatic: A glittery black pin badge with a blue holographic star in the middle. (Default)
So Saturday plans were: go down to the shared workspace that the nonprofit has some space in, orient my volunteers, then see what Purple was up to.

Turns out that in fact it took an entire 6 hours for my old laptop (which is the traveling one, now) to download and apply 2+ months' worth of updates. I was actually able to get some work done on it in the meantime.

Later on in the afternoon, getting towards evening, someone poked his head in the door. He was wondering if I knew where there might be a public toilet?
I did a quick risk assessment and said that I hadn't the earthliest, but would he like to use ours? So he did, and then asked what organization I was with, with implications of "and maybe do your org a solid" so I gave him the info, and he gave me his card, and it was one of those nice little being-kind-to-fellow-humans moments.

I called Purple and checked in; he was in fact up for dinner. We set a time. Then one of the volunteers was running late, so I bumped it out by another half-hour. I brought the computer out opened up and set it on the passenger seat to complete its updates. When I parked near Purple's building, I saw that it was asking for a reboot. So I told it that it could reboot, then locked everything up and went in to say hello.

Purple was on the phone with a friend who was shopping for srs bzns camera lenses. I excused myself briefly, then settled in on the other end of the couch with my phone to check up on the various things the internet had been saying in my absence. (And again with the second call.) By the time he was finished up with that, I had gone through my internet, so great timing.

We went in search of dinner. He had a place in mind, and lo, it was tasty. There was the usual amount of giggling.

I wound up telling him about a case of mistaken identity from a mutual friend. A mutual friend had seen the name "Purple", had seen the tag #AzureLsInTrouble, and had come to some understandable (but incorrect) conclusions. Hilarity ensued. Extra hilarity ensued when I told him about it. That gave way to a thoughtful discussion about some meta-issues around the specific type of mistaken identity.

Then we were back at his place, and we settled in on the infamous couch to watch some Dead Like Me, some Black Mirror (the one with the Willow Grain, in which I reflected that lawyer-boy ain't no Simon Illyan, and that I feel good about my life choices), and then some Black Books and Parks & Rec as unicorn chaser. We wound up pausing the Black Books episode with Manny clinging to Bernard's ankle as he heads for the door for the following exchange:

Azz: "Ahh, that reminds me of a Shawn incident."
Purple: "Er... what?? And ... which were you?"
Azz: "Did I not tell you that one, then?"
Purple: "Apparently not! Were you the one clinging, or the one being clung to?"
Azz: "Shawn had stolen my condom."
Purple: *erupts in giggles* "That still doesn't tell me which one you were."

My ideal vision for this weekend had included the concept of some time spent on a couch with a friend, leaning on each other and both reading, and I am happy to say that substituting watching well-picked TV works nearly as well.

Purple introduced me to the spider over his door. He's not sure if it's a real spider or just a shed exoskeleton, but it doesn't hurt to be polite! (Especially at that size.)

Next week is going to be ... a bit hectic. zomg.
azurelunatic: A glittery black pin badge with a blue holographic star in the middle. (Default)
It turns out that when you start at a place of "sometimes tech support does the Wrong Thing" and go through "Internet Explorer lets you do the cool but unsafe things you want to do, but also lets the bad guys do them too", you can wind up posting a poll on Twitter about frequency of naked/bare-assed (towel-less, for the courteous nudists amongst us) couch-sitting.

It all started with Ms. Antisocialest Butterfly's terrible customer service moment at work. She is naturally terse in her communications, and doesn't really bother with saying things which should be self-evident. Her workplace has these coats (some variety of lab coat for hardware geeks) and a service that they pay rather a lot of money to clean and maintain these things.

She noticed that hers was getting variously ratty -- missing button, a torn pocket -- and wrote a note: "Please replace." She signed it, and stapled it to the coat so it wouldn't get lost.

When the laundry came back, she found her coat. Same button missing. Same torn pocket. She was baffled -- until she found the name tag. They had replaced the name tag.

This prompted tales of some of the shenanigans that can ensue when least-good tech support and customer service ensues, including my epic fight with tech support over some java. The relevant bits were about trying it in IE and messing about with the settings.

Purple pondered about IE, with the general concepts that sure! IE is great for doing a lot of things that you want to do -- and letting the bad guys do it too. (Oops.)

"Yeah, you can shove that website straight in your trusted zone," I snarked.

Purple debated me on this: he wasn't entirely sure that the buttockal regions should be the "trusted zone"; didn't most people distrust things emanating-- ?

The discussion skipped into the topic of couches.

"Doesn't everybody?" Purple asked, meaning, sit on the couch butt-ass naked, or at least, well. Minus towel.

I facepalmed extensively. "I've SAT on your COUCH!" I said to Purple, in (entirely put on) tones of Great Betrayal.

His response was very much a sorry-not-sorry. I undermined my Performative Woe very shortly after, asking after his weekend plans in a way such to announce my intent to invade his couch if that was all right with him. ("That's what clothes are for..." I said in response to Ms. Antisocialest Butterfly's wish for some form of barrier to put between her and places where anyone else's butt has been.)

We went through the bestworst method of dyeing Y-fronts to disturb the TSA (even-ish tea underdye, with a second round to add more splatter, vs. the red tie-dye effect...) (passing the broccoli test by simultaneously saying "red" is ... maybe not the best way to pass the broccoli test). From Ms. Antisocialest Butterfly's dawning horror, it was clearly time for a subject change. We looked at her. "So how about that weather?" we asked in perfect stereo. She remarked upon it.

It turns out that key lime pie gets harder to share when you have two people stabbing into it tines-down from two different directions. At a certain point the inertia of the rest of the piece of pie is no longer sufficient to keep it in one place. Cooperation ensued, with one person holding the pie still with their fork while the other one pulled a bite away. We split the last bite amiably.

"That Weather" made for a short farewell. It was raining fairly firmly. Purple hugged me and we chatted a little, then we split.

I do so love rainy nights.

I am trying to get caught up on housework, in addition to work-work and applying for jobs. A little bit at a time, go me. Today I dug out the stepstool and a 9v battery and replaced the battery in the smoke detector before it started chirping at me. Go, me. (Stretching to reach it was painful and terrifying, but I did it.)

My impostor syndrome around guerrilla QA is pretty well faded. I used to be surprised when I found myself engaged in chasing down a random bug for a thing that I was using. I'd genuinely thought that the only system I'd ever have that kind of expertise on was LiveJournal. Purple met me when I was still regularly surprised by it. This time, I found myself explaining to Purple that really, the only thing I found surprising about the bug documentation I was sending to Slack was the universally friendly and helpful attitude of the Slack customer care people.

You could perhaps see the lightbulb emoji flickering into yellow above my head. Not quite an hour later I found myself additionally going:

04:30 PM azurelunatic: I think any job application where you can point to "and this is where I've interacted with your technical support" as an additional reason to hire you is possibly a good one
04:35 PM azurelunatic: my answer to "what is the importance of manual qa testing?" includes "it's really hard to annoy an automated test suite"

This weekend will involve waking up much earlier than I'd like to be up, viewing the Computer History Museum event space, and doing other work stuff on Sunday. After that's over, I'll poke Purple and see what he's up to. I hope to then invade his couch. ^_^
azurelunatic: A glittery black pin badge with a blue holographic star in the middle. (Default)
Purple and I kept trying to connect for our now-traditional midweek dinner but kept missing. Monday was supposed to have been a conference meeting with R, but it got delayed until Tuesday, so Tuesday was out too; Wednesday neither of us was feeling it quite. So it was today.

There's this little place that I know Purple and R and I have been before; that's where Purple suggested today. (I think our fourth that time may have been the Other Guy? or maybe phone? or zune? idk. It was the time R was complaining about some of the bus-related tour shenanigans on one of her vacations.) Purple was up for that place again tonight, and I was amenable. So we went. I was running a little early, and called him. I was just being led out to see a table when he arrived, and we settled down to contemplate what exactly we wanted in the way of food.

We wound up splitting the rissoto of the day and a four-seasons pizza (olives, artichoke hearts, mushrooms, and some sort of pork-based preserved meat). Purple ordered a drink, and I claimed a sip. That was not the best idea -- the rum was very much on the top. He sloshed it around and I got a second sip, which was nice and gingery. (Mr. Bananas had had lunch with pickled ginger that day, which got Purple in the mood for something with ginger, and the drink was just the ticket.) My current relationship with alcohol )

It turns out that the phrase "make sure you don't have any olives down there" is possible to interpret in a dirty fashion. (Purple does not enjoy olives. I do. Therefore all the olives were mine, and it was my responsibility to remove them from the shared slices.) Purple laughed at me as I removed an olive from his piece.

It turns out that when you're trying to validate that about 10 terabytes of data copied over successfully from your old NAS to your new NAS, it can take about a week once your tool is working. Purple's adventures continue.

I'm not sure how the topic came up, but he mentioned some work by some actress who'd been in things that go over his grossout humor threshold, and (since the topic was right there) apologized again for subjecting me to Drawn Together. I pointed out that he was much better than BJ in the department of regrettable media, as he had suggested it in good faith (it does contain many concepts I'd enjoy!) and upon realizing that I had not enjoyed it, reassured me that I could and should safeword out at any time, and he wouldn't hold it against me except that he'd keep my preferences in mind for future recommendations. (Which I don't really count as "holding it against me", but potato potato1.) Purple resents being put in the same category as BJ (or Shawn, really) on much of anything, as it's ... rather a low bar. "Hi, you're a decent human being." Which ... point.

We were both contemplating dessert. Half a dessert each. He was in mind of the bread pudding, as it wasn't as frightening as one might think, but we wound up having cannoli after some debate. Mmm, cannoli. There were bits of candied lemon peel in the cream, and I had to have a moment.

"What?" Purple asked.
I looked over at him in surprise.
"I thought I just heard you squeak?"
"Lemon peel again."
"Ahhhh."

I mention here for the sake of documenting my Complicated Feelings About Things: Lengthy feels. )

While we and some others had been eating outside, a great big white van had pulled up in a somewhat traffic-and-parking obstructive way, and a guy in well-worn work clothes and a safety vest had got out with equipment. I had overheard something vaguely about waiting to start until after "these people" were done eating. Around about when we finished dessert, the guy hauled a little portable generator over and plopped it on the hood of a car (presumably his?) and stepped in the puddle of mysterious liquid on his way to get at some of the other equipment, disturbing the surface enough for me to tell that yeah, that was pee there. He then pried open a 6-inch or so access cap of some type. Water, and not clean water, burbled forth and started overflowing the sidewalk into the gutter.

Purple and I decided that now was a really great time to split. So we headed garageward. He'd parked down on the bottom, but he decided he'd walk me upstairs to my car.

Read more... )

Of note: that guy in a certain social group who does that "your mom" jokes a lot, was sort of oblivious to the other guy who had said "my mom's dead". DON'T DO THAT. Purple contributed that one of these days Mr. Antisocial Butterfly is going to get socked pretty good for making the wrong "your mom" joke to Purple.

And I will see him tomorrow! ("It's forever!" he joked at me, and I immediately stifled the impulse to declare that he was being Pippin.)



1 Backwards. On roller skates. ^
azurelunatic: stick figure about to hit potato w/ flaming tennis racket, near jug of gasoline & sack of potatoes (XKCD)
Last weekend: pleasant dinner with Purple and Ms. Antisocial Butterfly, followed by FOGcon and Seanan's book launch party and more FOGcon.

There followed a week of mostly face-down in Freelance Conference Stuff, interspersed with the odd doctor here and there.

I entered into a dialogue with one of the doctors about gender, and how I don't want any. The upshot has included a formal entry of a note to this effect in my demographics section, my proper honorific (Reverend), and swapping my gender marker to Unknown. We'll see what havoc this plays on my medical records.

This came up in discussion with Purple, and some extensive clowning followed. The upshot of all that was that I may actually have a short-form description of my actual gender, which is: Langford Death Parrot.

Thursday evening, my general feeling of malaise resulted in a short walk down to the hot tub, where I soaked my ergonomically annoyed muscles and listened to some neighbors chat about this and that. One of the horror stories involved some really disturbing behavior from a random small child involving a watermelon. I went back and googled; I didn't find anything about a kid (not surprisingly), but I did find a story about an increasingly acrimonious divorce case which had included the following escalating bad behavior:

Includes implied threats of violence. )

Today was beer bash at Virtual Hammer, followed by dinner.

Purple had a baby shower before beer bash, which was why he was late. (The baby is a co-workers; he's not pregnant.) I warned him about the bread pudding fruit pies (not recommended) and he emerged about 15 minutes later, having been waylaid by a random conversation with a random friend. He is a sociable guy! He was slightly chagrined at having taken so long when he'd said he'd be right back, but I can't complain, since I benefit from this habit of his fairly significantly. (He's very sociable, and observes that I can be very sociable when I know someone, but rather less with new people.)

phone arrived, and Purple had just wondered if Mr. Tux were going to show up at all. I looked at my watch and said that it had just gone five; Mr. Tux didn't usually arrive until at least then. Sure enough, Mr. Tux emerged a few minutes later. R wandered through and chatted with the crowd. My hair and my earrings and my headphones all match. It's great!

Surrealist Band Guy dropped through and visited for a bit.

The fire pit did not light. Someone, not me, will need to file a ticket.

I'd been working steadily on the current dreamsheep, and Purple asked was it the nose I was working on. I sort of distinguish between "nose" and "chin", although in sheeps it's pretty much the same area. Purple took that distinction, and ran with it to some pretty terrible places. He later contemplated the topology of my original plan, and asked some fairly salient questions about the double-eversion phase and terminology related thereto, and also the stealth phase. "Why does this sheep have a green asshole?" The nose vs. chin question led down a chain of logic which ended on etsy with the phrases "docking muff" and "machine washable" (very important, that last).

We'd thought that Ms. Antisocial Butterfly wouldn't be joining us for dinner, but she called. She doesn't leave town until tomorrow. So we decided on a dinner location (Mountain View) and topic (pizza).

The rubber chicken for help system ticket 1,000,000 has seen better days. I had handed it off to Purple upon leaving, but it was in bad enough shape that he really did not want it around. We ceremonially consigned it to the trash, after a last commemorative picture.

Circumstances under which gender-policing can be actually hilarious: mention of genitals, non-explicit. ) Purple is great and I want to keep him. We headed off for dinner.

Purple and I circled the first parking garage and failed to find a spot. (I got there first, I believe.) We went up the second, and finally found spots on the fourth floor (out of five possible). I found mine, then he arrived and parked just as I was getting out of my car, so I waited for him while he juggled bluetooth and phone and he joined me at the elevator. Ms. Antisocial Butterfly had arrived on time, and we were a little delayed for once.

Ms. Antisocial Butterfly disapproves of any cracker-eating jerks who give her initials a bad reputation.

We had salad and wings and pizza and scurrilous discussion. Purple commented on weaponized earrings, after observing how my earrings do a delightful little shimmy when I shake my head. We iterated on that a bit. I draw the line at explosions near my ears.

Walking back, he helped me liberate my long loose hair from my briefcase strap, pulling it a bit in the process and apologizing. His weekend plans include heading off with Cousin Antisocial to see the aunt and uncle and helping them haul stuff around, then coming back on Sunday and presumably collapsing a bit. I may inquire after sociability on Sunday, but am not expecting necessarily anything. :>

I have no idea what I'm doing for April Fool's Day.
azurelunatic: A glittery black pin badge with a blue holographic star in the middle. (Default)
So after getting back from the family shenanigans, I have been living a fairly quiet existence, interspersed with a certain amount of human contact.

I have a conference-running gig right now, which is taking up a substantial amount of my time. It's keeping me busy and contributing to my general well-being (i.e. it's not volunteer, though it's below my pro rates).

Wednesday evening, I inquired of a certain engineer whether he was up for dinner-and-human-contact, which he was. Wednesdays might be becoming a new tradition. Choice of dinner venue is always an interesting debate; this time he was in charge due to root canal recovery. It turns out that even when you take the Lunatic out of the shop, you do not take the shop talk out of the Lunatic.

One of the minor bits of amusement that ensued was thanks to StPatience. She's a friend from #adventuresofstnono, and is also about on Twitter. She saw a tweet about the possibly forming new tradition of Wednesday night dinner (why yes! I would be delighted to have dinner with you next week!) and interpreted it ... hilariously differently. She hadn't connected the Purple who I was clearly rather fond of, with the [wallet name derivative] she knew from #adventuresofstnono, and this led to some interesting assumptions. I clarified. We found the entire thing hilarious.

Friday was rather rainy. I appreciate that in the weather, though it would be good if there wasn't wind damage or flooding. It was also beer bash down at Virtual Hammer, which would not have been sufficient enticement to head down thattaway, but my favorite ghosts had a bit of a game night planned. (It being first Friday, Purple was otherwise occupied, or there'd have been dinner as well.)

Purple called while I was on my way down, to let me know where beer bash was being held (not in the usual place). I was glad to know that! I parked accordingly, and no sooner had I scaled the steps (stairs are a little more of an option now! yay knees!) than my old team spotted me and proceeded to glomp me with enthusiasm. It was Researcher Sweatervest's last day! It was good to see those of the team that I saw. I was waylaid and glomped by the Dean as well.

I had a bit of trouble locating Purple (unusual for me) but finally did, thanks to the wonders of mobile telephony and his distinctive hair. We grabbed food and a table. Acidhelm spotted us and joined us, which is always fun.

The Dean is pretty well convinced that one of the reasons he is in HR is so that they can keep an eye on him. It's good to be amongst the few that he can let his metaphorical hair down around!

I had not realized that when the ghost crew said that the games were "in [certain dude]'s office", what they meant was an entirely different company and office building. Acidhelm and I exchanged numbers and he gave me the address, that I might find the place and be let in, if I opted for game night.

The woe hit me pretty hard as Purple and I took the access road back in the direction of the central garage, and he petted me reassuringly for a while. We made terrible jokes at each other, including the concept of UL rated "dance clubs" -- bonky items made for dancing. It's harder to get them safety rated with an approval for indoors.

I was eventually feeling human enough to talk myself into wandering down in the direction of [certain dude]'s office, knowing that once I got there, I'd most likely feel obligated to join games.

And join games I did, albeit with a detour for bubble tea and the latest Price-Healy novel. The game of the evening was Roll for the Galaxy, and great fun was had.

One of the small traditions that's also forming is inquiries after weekend time. Purple's Saturday plans involved setting up his new NAS (again), and watching TV. After putting in some work on conference stuff, I headed down thattaway in some pretty vigorous precipitation. I got introduced to the new big chunk of storage, I watched as he updated some of his music gear, and then we settled in for Shaun of the Dead (fun). There was a dinner run, then we sat back down with the first episode of Drawn Together (DO NOT WANT), an episode of Elementary (it was burning a hole in his DVR, and I enjoyed it), and some Arrested Development (always fun).

My tweets

5/2/16 14:17
azurelunatic: A glittery black pin badge with a blue holographic star in the middle. (Default)
azurelunatic: Thalia, Muse of Comedy, in a plaster relief sculpture. She is adorned with an ivy wreath, holds crook & mask (Thalia)
Swung by Purple's desk on my way in to tell him to find a hat (so he could lift it to me, for technical victories); he'd apparently just headed off for what turned out to be lunch.

I had lunch with the guy who used to be on the A-Team but who was in HR now. From his perspective, I've "come out of [my] shell" quite a bit, what with asking awkward questions in front of all-hands meetings and such, compared to going "aaaaa wtf icebreaker woe :(" -- from mine, I've certainly gained confidence about what exactly will go over well here, but I haven't exaaaaaactly been terrified of public speaking for 20 years, and I'm still an introvert. It costs to be socially On, except with a very narrow range of people. (It may, come to think of it, help that I've been spending several hours a week with one of those people fairly regularly for the past two years.)

Madam Standards dropped by to thank me for putting a reminder about dietary information on the potluck sign-ups.

Purple returned from lunch to tell me that one of his friends had told him: "Wow, your friend [Azure] has some big, um ... balls?" re: last week's pointed question. Heh.

My whole team has been hit by the plague. The Stage Manager sounds about like I feel, and was also from-home on Monday and Tuesday. I'm feeling much better! (I'm still coughing, and still have a damaged throat.) Purple was out with it last week, I think, but for him it was just a head cold.

I have not yet got the information for User Acceptance Testing for the new helldesk software iteration. There are some things that ARE APPARENTLY NOT WORKING AS THEY OUGHT, THE BASTARDS, and I am threatening to assemble a crew of engineers in someone's office. Pitchforks optional.

There was an emergency team ping from the other end of campus. I didn't take it. There was a second ping, still calling for people. I eyed it. The third ping was much more emphatic. I grabbed my gloves and bag and hustled (mindful of my delicate lungs). By the time I arrived, of course, the area was saturated with security, and what they'd needed the emergency team for was crowd control. (In the event of a medical situation, the last thing you need is onlookers going all popcorn.gif.) So I headed back down.

I have been slowly making my way through an album that Purple had mentioned that he was digging (it's good; not the sort of thing that I would have picked up myself, but good) and therefore was lost in a combination of chill noise and inbox when the Commandant poked me in the arm. "Augh! Don't *do* that!!" I said. No, the Lunatic will not notice your approach! This is why there is the doorbell! They have apparently filed a ticket to get the room they're planning to use for the potluck next week, but it is (likely) caught in some godforsaken corner of the helldesk, since the Dean hasn't seen it. I gave sage advice. The fact that I am helping plan my own goodbye party is not lost on anyone.

Eventually the building got cold and lonely enough that I needed to not be alone in there. So I pinged Purple, gathered up my gear, stuffed some stuff in the outgoing mail, dropped the portable hard drive back on R's desk, and wandered down to Purple's office. He was chatting with someone at their cube when I wandered by. I waved, drifted into his office, dropped my bag, drifted out, made myself a cup of tea, and settled in with the iPad quite cozily. His office is warm.

He came back in. We talked for a while. If ever I find myself near Palo Alto at the time of a beer bash, I should consider myself his guest. Was that lemongrass? No, it was "sweet orange" tea; I'd been looking for mint but didn't see any. Had I looked in the other, unlabeled drawer? No? Oh, that's where it might have been. I suggested a "MAYBE TEA?" label to go with the "TEA" label -- sometimes there is tea in that drawer, and sometimes there is not. Purple evidenced amusement at the thought of opening the "maybe" drawer and wondering wtf is in these bags, if there's doubt as to the tea status. I declared that the herbal ones would go in that drawer... This idea met with his approval.

Eventually, we braved the cold and the lingering smell of natural gas that nobody has ever got pinned down and the uncertain traffic in the parking lot. A little bird pecked about, nearly camouflaging itself against the white line, before flittering out of sight. There has been a wire coat hanger stuffed behind one of the pedestrian crossing signs, apparently for days, though this is the first time I noticed it. I held out my arm, and Purple obligingly shuffled closer so I could loop my arm through his as we stood there, chatting about things you find on Goodreads, and old movies, and all manner of wackiness.
azurelunatic: A glittery black pin badge with a blue holographic star in the middle. (Default)
So Sunday I was feeling somewhat poorly... Sunday night I had a hard time getting to sleep for the coughing ... Monday there was no question of stepping out ... Tuesday I was still weak and sore, but much more coherent. Today, finally, I felt somewhat human again.

Therefore I wound up at work. phone is back from Australia. I had lunch with Purple and the guys. Purple was teasing me that oxygen isn't really necessary, because without oxygen, people don't complain at the lack ... therefore it isn't necessary ... right? I told him that he was one of the nicest assholes I knew. (That's the sort of compliment he likes.)

lb came by, and we strolled up in search of pastry. It was a slow stroll as my lungs were not all the way up to the hill yet. On our way back, I decided to try going through a nearby building to see if one of the people I knew from IRC was in. He was. I said goodbye, quite regretful that our first in-person meeting was both hello and goodbye.

One of the new hires had arrived while I was WFH-sick. I helped him navigate the helldesk in order to place the order for his new-hire software. As I popped back out of his office, one of the fellows from down the hall (towards the salesy side of engineering) stopped to tell me that I'd been very courageous on Thursday what with the asking inconvenient questions in public and all. (I hadn't felt *very* courageous, just a little bit. It gets easier after the first time, and it wasn't my dangerous question.)

I am still surprised to work in a place where people go out of their way to tell me that they like me and will miss me. I am still expecting the elementary school paradigm where I'm too weird, and then too oblivious to notice that everyone wants me to shut up and stop being weird at them.

The evening was a bit of an exercise in aslkjdfasdklfjalskdfj, as R had a sudden conference deadline, and therefore there was a bit of a scramble! Factors included: me being out sick, the high-quality photos being on the portable drive, the portable drive being Mac formatted, the general difficulty of getting things off a Mac-formatted drive when what you've got is Windows ...

... and the true helpful glory of a company full of very creative engineers who specialize in certain things, and have certain recommendations and pro tips. For example, they can tell me that certain paths are a fool's errand, and that possibly the simplest route is to plug the drive into an actual Mac. And some other things which might actually work. I decided I would try one of the other things first.

Purple said that he would have to take his hat off to me if I got stuff loaded without resorting to an actual Mac. (He doesn't wear a hat, so this will be hard.)

*gazes serenely at the progress bar*
azurelunatic: A glittery black pin badge with a blue holographic star in the middle. (Default)
Over lunch this week, the engineer from the Ukraine allowed as how knowing that software in general was developed by careless jerks just like him made him less confident in things like self-driving cars. "And how about planes?" (He is a pilot.) "They let just any asshole fly!" he said, or words to that effect.

This whole week has felt off-balance. The ice storm that hit the East Coast this past weekend delayed the processing of my car insurance payment, so while I had in fact paid twice (once manually, once automatically) neither had actually gone all the way through the computers due to things having been shut down.

A brief digression about computer rooms! (This is all simplified, though I know a chunk of my people know more about them than I do; anyone who knows more can leave helpful clarifications if they wish.) You might think that these days, computers are magical creatures that can stay up through all manner of physical insult, and you might be partly right! You can do amazing things to computers compared to what used to take them down, but there are a lot of moving parts behind that uptime.

First, modern management tools allow the people running the computers to switch which physical computer is doing the work, very very quickly across long distances. Read more... )

A lot of modern computer stuff happens in shiny modern data centers with fancy uptime promises, and the ability to automatically fail over to remote sites if something happens to the main site. Those are very shiny and new. The world of finance is ... not always on the bleeding edge of technology. They may have some somewhat older stuff. Plus, ice storms are serious business, and if you know it's a matter of time before the power goes out and you're not confident that the generators will hold out, and if the person responsible for making sure the machines stay up is snowed in at home ... maybe it just makes more sense to shut everything down gracefully for the long weekend, so even when the power goes out it won't matter. Then they can bring it back up once they get back in the office, and stuff won't be screwed up, even if it's late.

The customer service agent told me that everything was shut down on account of weather, so I very quickly saw why taking computer systems down would be a sensible move. I confirmed that my policy was active so I could legally drive to work. Yay people being sensible even when the computer is not cooperating.

Purple was not around for lunch this week much -- one day there was a leaving thing on his team, one day he was working from home with the sniffles, another day he had another offsite lunch, and then I had a leaving thing for someone on my team (Sparkles).

It's been the kind of week where people need walks.

Wednesday afternoon I got an email from a person at a company. We called and set up an in-person meeting for the following evening. That turned out to be a five-person interview; I realized that I actually missed the rush of uptime problems.

Other writers out there -- if you're ever beta-read or edited, you get to claim writing as an exercise in collaboration, if you're hard-pressed for an example while interviewing. I really ought to have pointed out the sit-down that lb and I had over a potential question that I was going to ask at a meeting, where we condensed from a large chunk of text to a few lines with bullet points. Writing for a goal means the occasional "I think the way you originally had it doesn't work" with optional "here's why" and "here's what I think you should do instead". lb at more than one point apologized and told me that he didn't want to trample all over what I was trying to say; I pointed out that this wasn't an exercise in my artistic employment of language, this was a text with a very specific goal and two very specific audiences. Therefore my ego about my original draft was irrelevant, and we only had an hour. We got it down to two post-its, eventually.

Friday was the aforementioned goodbye lunch for Sparkles. I was sitting next to the newest person. He quietly asked me if I could help him with the names of the people at the other end of the table. I confirmed the first one, but the second two people were people I interact with a lot less, and naturally their names weren't retrieving through my face. (I possibly could have typed their email addresses, and thereby come up with names, but there was no computer; I was stuck with face-based meat noises.) I apologized for the difficulty. He apologized for it as well, mentioning that he was bad with names. "And I'm moderately faceblind," I allowed.

The new guy lit up. "Oh, so you know exactly where I'm coming from; me too," he said. So we compared notes. If I have time, I may make him a book of flash cards.

Friday was also the day that the department that had suffered the intercision decided to meet for drinks at a local watering hole. I had been included in the invitation, and thought it important to show the colors (mostly blue). So I went, and after a little parking angst, found myself a place against the wall with a cider. I chatted and commiserated and reminisced and even may have uttered some language. One of the remote folks tried to join in via Facetime, but it was noisy and the connection was unreliable. There was some jocularity about one of them there newfangled presence robots, and how one might attempt to jury-rig same via hoverboard, broomstick, and iPad (someone objected as she did not want her iPad to go on fire), and then there was talk of remote control cars and the like.

There was standing around and talking outside. At a reasonable hour, I called Purple to see about dinner; he didn't pick up and I reckoned it was early yet and didn't leave a message. I tried again a half-hour later, and left a message. All told, at the two hour mark I was waiting patiently in the restaurant while getting the odd sympathetic glance from the intercised department (the nuances between "got stood up" and "the rest of the party is 25 minutes late" are mostly dependent on texting) and then there was dinner. Dinner was good. No standing around chatting this time, due to rain.

Various denizens of #cupcake decided that it would be a good idea to meet up socially. R decided that Saturday lunch at her house would be perfect. We had lunch and everyone except lb's girlfriend complained about work. (Sorry, lb's girlfriend!) Then we played cards (Purple had brought his deck) and there was hilarity; lb won and Purple and I had the same score. Every now and then Purple would fall over backwards laughing. Once someone played something meanish and Purple was sure it had been me; it had in fact been R.

Purple and I hung around chatting with R on our way out the door for "just a few minutes"; it was not just a few minutes. However, the moment that R and I started to sound like we were having a conference business meeting, Purple excused himself, gave me a hug, and scrammed. Heh.

A spider inside the "No Soliciting" sign is a nice touch. R needs to (quite literally) debug one of her little technology projects, as the spiders got inside that too.

As a result of the conversation, I started to contemplate a world in which StPatience runs a foundation for women in technology, with me as the administrative person and Nora running a lot of the people side. It's an interesting thought experiment.
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azurelunatic: A glittery black pin badge with a blue holographic star in the middle. (Default)
I am probably not allowed to send this particular friend emails with the subject line "Dance with me, Princess?"
azurelunatic: A glittery black pin badge with a blue holographic star in the middle. (Default)
azurelunatic: California poppies, with a bright blue sky and the sun. (California girl)
Word count on the new project: 1743, not including notes. (There are a lot of notes.)

I finally managed to call Darkside at a convenient time yesterday, and we wound up talking for approximately the expected length of time (2 hours). Today I met up with R for lunch and to talk conference-running. I'm going to run some numbers and get back to her.

Since we'd met up in Palo Alto, I dropped by work for some of the hauling-stuff-to-car which wouldn't benefit from helpful commentary from teammates. (Since the effect of said helpful commentary is generally me crying on Purple, I felt I had made an excellent choice.) I then called Purple to see if he was up for anything fun, given that I was ostensibly in the area.

He was not up for "out" particularly; I proposed that since what I was seeking was company, one of the traditions that Darkside and I had maintained was frozen pizza and terrible movies. He was amenable, so I picked up a frozen pizza and a package of spinach (know thy favorite software engineer) and only got slightly lost on the way to his place. (When you're coming from a nearby main drag, the wrong turn before does not have a stoplight. The correct turn does. This means "fun" trying to get back out onto the main drag and down the street due to our friend the left turn.) He was unsure of the gate code, but I was able to "shark in" after someone.

We proceeded to settle in to his infamous couch to watch things. I've had Black Mirror recommended from several trustworthy directions, so I went for that first. Apparently my limit there is 2 consecutive episodes. We mutually agreed upon Black Books to follow that up.

People who are allowed to call me "milady", a very short list:
* Purple

I would be pleased if this were to become a regular thing.
azurelunatic: "Are you challenging my ingenuity?"  (ingenuity)
My priorities at work are: get the participant database in reasonable working order (including the yelling at vendors), and get the process for the yearly conference in as well-documented order as I can get it.

There has been database WTF-ery. The response from the vendor is sort of shaped like "yes Reverend thank you Reverend" as I tell them that this is unexpected and not in the good way. Purple is amused.


I'm starting to apply places, and collecting my references and paperworks.

More people continue to find out and/or ask me about the status of the contractor deadline. I feel somewhat socially obligated to put a good face on it, at least to people who aren't #VirtualH, #dreamwidth, #cupcake, #adventuresofstnono, or closer. This results in scenarios like:

ajl: I've heard vague rumors to the effect that people are talking about getting us a paid Slack, but only rumors. In the future, you should probably ask [R&D IT Flashlight Guy] about that, he might be best placed to know.
MrBlueHair: Wait, "in the future" ARE YOU LEAVING US
ajl: Well, there's that contractor policy, and my team wasn't able to get me converted to full time before the deadline, barring a miracle.
MrBlueHair: ... !!! D:
ajl: :( :( :(

or

R2, the guy on my team not my else-team friend: Well, I'm headed to India to get married, see you when I get back!
AzureJ: Congratulations, and it's been a pleasure working with you.
R2: Oh, I'm coming back! At the end of February!
AzureJ: When in February?
R2: The end ... omg, you won't ... ? Where are you ... ?
AzureJ: The 16th. I don't know yet.
R2: Oh. It's been good working with you too. :(


When that happens, I tend to IM Purple with the gist of the conversation and try to not let it go from tears leaking out my eyes to actual audible sobbing. He says that long notice in situations like this is kind of torture. I'm inclined to agree, though I also appreciate it so I can prepare.

One of the things helping me keep it together is the way that I know I am cared-for and well-regarded, on my team and off, and especially amongst #VirtualH and #cupcake. Purple hugs me goodnight, shoulder-bumps me, occasionally pets my arm, and lets me take shelter next to him. I keep rediscovering that undemanding sustained physical contact with folks who don't set off my alarm bells is a thing that does me great amounts of good. (Even while the same amount of proximity to people *not* cleared for unmonitored access to my blind spots would leave me worse off.) Mr. Zune has joined #adventuresofstnono, which goes a long way towards keeping the people I cherish most from #cupcake in places I will see them regularly. (We have yet to coax radius in there.)

Recently, #adventuresofstnono have been talking about the reverse of popular internet emotional signifiers. What is the opposite of LOL? Throwing up? Crying inside? The simple D: ? This inevitably led to 8===D and its opposite, 8===D: the aghast ascii penis.


I have Scrivener set up, and have embarked upon a project which is intended to be a tropey tropey paper bag which may contain a magician's bird of definite fjord-pining status, and might also possibly -- well. So the other day on Twitter...




Naturally I hunted down the reference (like a good fishmum) and while the story was sweet and hot and I was happy to have spent a fancy coffee's worth on it, the writing quality was not what I'm accustomed to. In fact...

"I can write better than that," I groused to myself. "In fact, I've half a mind to..."

[personal profile] norabombay and [personal profile] sithjawa promptly started incorriging me.

I now have:
* working title (terrible, terrible pun)
* a possibly viable pen name
* a main pairing, several supporting couples, and some names
* a terribly on the nose pen name for the bad fanfic written by a supporting couple
* tons of incorrigement
Pray for me.
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