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Nov. 13th, 2015 11:09 am
azurelunatic: The Space Needle by night. Slightly dubious photography. (Default)
"Interesting shirt," I said politely* to Purple as he sat down at lunch.

* It was not actually polite. I should, instead, have made no remark.

"Interesting? I thought it was actually pretty bland," he said. 'It' was a heather grey and burgundy sweatshirt with a polo collar, in a pattern that only made sense if you were an athletic supporter and those were your team colors.

"Well... what I meant was, that is not the sort of thing you usually wear and it makes you look like Soccer Coach Dad," I said.

We proceeded to clown around with the character of Donald Trump, Soccer Coach Dad ("Ice cream is for winners!") and Hippie Soccer Coach Dad. Good times were had by all.

Apparently he has a number of cool-weather shirts that he doesn't get the chance to wear very often in Silicon Valley weather. What he misses are sweaters. I narrowly avoided walking into a wall at the thought of Purple in (possibly terrible) sweaters.

This is not a picture of the actual shirt. This is a picture of a similar shirt with the pattern colored in. The back of the shirt, of course, is plain grey, adding to the confusion when you see it from angles other than straight on.

azurelunatic: The Space Needle by night. Slightly dubious photography. (Default)
Apartment remains cluttered but Less Dire. Attempted to get up at a vaguely diurnal time. It didn't happen. Went to work. Noticed that my friend the Singing Project Manager had dropped off one of her spare ice packs with me. (She'd advertised on [off-topic], because she gets one of those recipe subscription things, and they come with hella ice packs.)

Purple had the thing he was doing with new hires, so I dragged lunch back to my desk. I poked at conference stuff. My manager had questions about some equipment ordering, and dispatched me to go talk to our desktop support guys and ask how exactly the best (for them, since they get the brunt) way is to order a hella number of equipment. I detoured by the desk of the Singing PM and gave her some chocolate. She said if [off-topic] hadn't claimed the rest of the ice packs by the end of the day, she'd leave them with me. Local helpdesk was not in. I dropped some diplomacy off with Mr. Zune, and agreed on a time for milkshake.

I came back to #cupcake to see:
(14:31) radius: [local cafeteria] milkshakescapade at 2:40-ish?
(14:36) radius: Maybe that was not sufficient advance notice... 3:00ish instead?
(14:37) zune: 3ish sounds good to me
(14:37) ajl: 3ish was the time I proposed to zune, so sounds good to me also

radius joined us, and we soaked up a bit of sun, then went to see whether the new couch in the quiet room had been cleaned. However, there was someone being quiet in there (on something with a bright screen) so we detoured to the pinball room instead. Mr. Zune played a round of pinball, and radius and I demonstrated our mutual incompetence at foosball. We didn't keep score. The game was eventually called on account of me collapsing against the wall in giggles.

Couch. )

The quiet room was empty, so we poked our heads in. The stain is still visible, but less visible. radius tested whether it was him-sized (he is hella tall). It was! Instead of napping, though, he let me in on the method of getting up to the mail room ceilings (counter-scrambling at dawn).

(15:09) pkeeper: heee
(16:19) ***ajl eyes pkeeper
(16:19) ***ajl proposed milkshake, not propositioned marriage :-P
(16:21) pkeeper: well, unless his GF is REALLY open minded, I kinda
figured out what you meant
(16:23) ***ajl isn't looking for that level of committment at the moment
(16:29) pkeeper: that said I don't want to venture what a milkshake proposal might be a euphemism for...
(16:29) ***ajl whacks in pkeeper's general direction with a pool noodles
(16:29) zune: oh my...
(16:30) ***radius waves a crayfish.

Conference stuff is poised on the edge of the call-for-papers, and the flurry associated therewith. I tripped over a bit of Slack UI weirdness and dutifully reported it to their people. Since "their people" and the set of people allowed to read my locked stuff has a slight intersection, while the account is in my workname, I signed it, "Love, Azure Jane L." in the hopes that if the intersection did hit, it would be a friendly little cupcake moment. I also sent a somewhat more exasperated request-for-improvement to not!Facebook, because I'd just run into a thing which didn't work on mobile. Pro tip: when your fucking dialog overflows the goddamn edge of the motherfucking screen, it helps absolute none when you can neither scroll nor fucking resize. I figured I'd just rotate the screen. It was still too goddamn wide. Snotfuckers. I ran into that bit while eating ice cream in the courtyard, and my sudden explosion of profanity clued Mr. Zune and radius into the likelihood that either there was an email from somewhere in the depths of the helldesk, or I'd run into another fine little bug.

Earlier in the day, Researcher Sweatervest had sent out a New Year's email announcing that he'd left honey dates on the collaboration table, with many pictures of ... rams? goats? sheep? and general celebratory sentiments. The actual leaving of dates was somewhat more afternoon-ish. One of the designers had been sad about missing the dates when she hadn't seen any earlier, so I brought one for her. She traded me for huckleberry saltwater taffy. I saved one for Purple.

Outlook Web Access and Firefox are not getting along. Specifically, when you put deliberate whitespace in an email, OWA + Firefox don't let you, instead of going along with the whole non-breaking-space idea or whatever. The fix is some back-end thing that has to be applied to the server. Earlier this week, I came back and found that the mofo had been closed. I re-opened it and requested that we be given insight to whatever it is that they're using to track the issue. Yesterday I called and asked for an update and to be added as a watcher. This morning, I found they'd closed the mofo again. radius said this afternoon that it was open. I looked and it was still closed. Turns out, the parent ticket was closed while the second child incident was open. I called the helpdesk to find out what the ever-loving *fuck*. I was not especially convinced that the helpdesk guy's claims that the closure of the containing unit would leave the internal items in a state to be acted on, as it had the distinct sound of this-fact-i-just-made-up. But it was re-opened, so that was good.

You can add custom emoji to your Slack instance. One of the guys has already added Kool-Aid Man. I was looking for pictures relevant to pool noodles when I ran into something that I couldn't emojify, but that did make me laugh for longer than 15 seconds, and made me feel all warm inside. I'm part of a community. Then I had to explain "LART" to Purple.

The Singing PM came by with the unclaimed ice packs. Unfortunately, one of them was sliced. I'd just cleaned up the leaking gel from a hole poked into the first one (and patched it with packing tape). The new one got a glorious mess of gel all over, and after disposing of it, we repaired to the bathroom to get it off us, our clothes, and her scissors. I reported back to IRC that ice packs were the new couchbuttering.

Someone has driven some sort of power lift inside the building. Apparently there's about 2-3" of clearance for it to get through the double doors, and you have to tear down a cube or two to get it inside. It was a topic of discussion on [off-topic], so Lennon Glasses Guy and I went to see it. Later, I came back to take pictures for posterity. It's not every day, etc. etc.

Lift. )

It felt like a Thursday, even though it was the Wednesday of a week shortened on the front end. Purple walked me out as per usual. He walked me all the way to my car, as my knees and ankle were all feeling somewhat poorly. There was silliness, including South Park on plastic surgery, some inadvisable forms of counterweight bra, and some relatively serious breast reduction chatter.

I was short on laundry, so I put it in despite wanting to make a relatively early night of it. Then I vacuumed and tidied a little bit more, both while the laundry was going and after. Soon, it will be time for showering and snoozing, and then see what time I can get up in the morning.
azurelunatic: The Space Needle by night. Slightly dubious photography. (Default)
Half a button falling off is weirder than the whole thing.
azurelunatic: The Space Needle by night. Slightly dubious photography. (Default)
Such wrangling with helpdesk. First the guy with the Fear & Loathing poster who fled the Monkey House had an entanglement with helpdesk.

Things I did not say to Helpdesk included: "Just because I write 'Dear Santa, I've been a very good Lunatic this year. Please send me a shiny new Macbook with all the trimmings! Here is a picture!' on the whiteboard, doesn't mean that Santa will have gotten the message; your ass is supposed to know how things are assigned to Logistics, and just because Chip wrote a Dear Logistics note in the ticket doesn't mean that they got it."

Things I did do: give Fear & Loathing some chocolate: some for him, some for Chip.

Lennon Glasses Guy is dabbling gently at bitcoin mining. I had some "helpful" ideas. Purple pointed out that the usual suspects for bitcoin mining are probably against all parts of the concept of a solar-and-bike-powered miner.

After lunch, a helpdesk guy had just pinged me about a particular contentious open ticket when a senior engineer commenced letting off steam about a known issue in IRC.

The helpdesk guy thought I was talking about another thing. I helped him see what I truly meant. He had thought I meant I couldn't see un-triaged tickets at all, which was wrong. What I meant was, if a person makes a ticket and adds me to the cc, I need to see it before it's triaged. He tried to make such a ticket and failed because that is not a thing helpdesk can do (it makes them triage first). I walked him through creating it like a normal user. He sounded shocked and hurt when the ticket he created didn't appear on my board.

He had to go rethink everything. Next, the very angry engineer. It was a known issue: helldesk notification emails were sending bad links.

Senior Engineer: WTF is with helldesk? I don't understand any part of it, and the link they gave me is 404-ing.
Azz: hang on, I'm chatting with helpdesk about another thing right now, but after that I will be right with you.
Senior Engineer: wtf wtf wtf do they even have QA?
Azz: *grimly* I think we're their QA.
Senior Engineer: *further detail about the 404 shenanigans*
Azz: Ugh, right, that one. I've CC-ed you on the ticket I've already filed, here is the ticket number, here is the link to the less-broken view of helldesk, and here is how you get back and forth.
Senior Engineer: I think you mean, *you're* their QA.
Senior Engineer: Thanks, this is a lot less broken. I'll bookmark that.

Much later, Researcher Polkadot said something hilarious in email. A crudely made animation ensued.

animated gif )

Later still, the guy who empties the bins came around. A brief but surreal chat about names ensued.

Purple was summoned. We headed out.

I do not know what the m2ma would say about off label uses for extra large finger cuffs, but they had best not have splinters.

Purple cannot have fruit punch on account of it punching back.
azurelunatic: The Space Needle by night. Slightly dubious photography. (Default)
Most of the day got taken up by the thing (access-locked).

Circumstances dictated that I improvise a salt-shaker, because I crave that mineral.

I did wander forth to get ice cream, and spent a nice chill section of time sitting by the fire pit, cleaning up my email. Then back I went. On the way back, I heard the dulcet tones of what turned out to be a Steller's Jay or two romping around campus and throwing itself from table to chair to table. I recognized that raspy scream, so I stopped and whipped out my phone and tried to get a decent shot of it to show lb, because the bird that made that noise was more awesome than I'd imagined. They are metallic blue and black and crested, and are basically every color I would want my hair to be. I was not that far off when I guessed that the bird that made that noise might be a raven, because they are also corvids. Really, really pretty ones.

Steller's Jay on outdoor furniture

That website which was willing to ship glitter to people was going around. I heard about it from Dre in #dw, and then Purple brought it to my especial attention (aww). Between the one thing and the other, we came up with the concept of glitter-dipped dead wasps on toothpicks, and the method by which one would make them, and wacky situations to not encounter while constructing them. (I may Write That Up Properly, but my evening already got eaten.)

By the time we were all done, I was achey and tired. Purple was a bit invigorated from deadline-smashing, and has now got a replacement strap for his laptop bag (finally).

We wandered out giggling. I showed off my new-to-me hardback copy of Cyteen, with the good jacket. Then I had to explain the plot. He kept suggesting Further Wacky Shenanigans, and then was surprised when no few of them were actually in the book. He already has the ebook*. And then from there we got to the Warrior's Apprentice cover that Lois had apologized to him about (and she'd struck up the initial conversation with his mom, which makes much more sense, and his mom had mentioned that her boy liked SF...) and the cover I wanted for Ethan of Athos (the face-off theme like Cetaganda and Mirror Dance, but with Ethan and a newt), and which one Ethan of Athos was, and how he hasn't read Ivan: His Book yet, and that thing that I did with the ebook for that for my friend, and the rather betrayed way that I actually didn't cry at the end but I went out and read fanfic until I did cry. (He teased me for masochism.) I was owed it! And the book didn't deliver! So I packaged up the three bits of fic which needed to round it out.

* which is not found in stores, so to speak.

I got to the place just as they were closing. Dinner, yay! Then I came home.

Suffice to say that the locked entry involves Defeating A Boss, in the videogame sense. I wandered into #yuletide singing, and #yuletide incorriged me, wondering if there were birds and deer and adorable forest animals. So I decided that what I needed was a flower crown.

I expect that this will make Madam Standards stare at me. :D

And now it is bedtime.

Azz with pink and yellow flower crown and a smug smirk


Jan. 8th, 2015 12:31 am
azurelunatic: The Space Needle by night. Slightly dubious photography. (Default)
(image hosting is hard, y0.)
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Jan. 8th, 2015 12:28 am
azurelunatic: The Space Needle by night. Slightly dubious photography. (Default)
I started the day infeliciously, by sleeping over a meeting with a number of researchteam and an external vendor. However, by all reports it involved less signal than noise, and there are many further questions. I shall bang on it until candy falls out.

Another group contacted me for an internal pilot with another external vendor. I will also bang on that one until candy falls out. There was much cynicism in #VirtualH, with very little spilling over to #cupcake.

Vampire Teeth Dev, the officemate of Lennon Glasses Guy, rather charmingly seems to think I possess more knowledge about the actual whereabouts of Purple than the average guy at the lunch table. It is possible. This time, I had no extra knowledge, just I knew Purple's car was in the parking lot and he'd sent out the lunch ping, but I hadn't seen him yet. He'd gotten collared by someone else with a problem right after sending the lunch ping, was what had happened.

I spent the bulk of the afternoon screaming into wikis on a small number of topics:

* What is going on with the researchteam's SaaS thing?
* What is going on with the upcoming conference?
* Maps.

Mid-afternoon, a large selection of #cupcake descended upon my cube, and met Researcher Haystack. They then swept me off to the Milkshake Dungeon. I have been careful to get things which don't have lactose, which helps things. Purple discovered to his dismay that "heat this up a bit" for the blueberry danish involved a microwave. lb got a cheese danish with "one degenerate blueberry". I got a picture.

Teenage girls have a reputation for giggling. I have been a teenage girl. I believe that it is safe to say that a group of grown techdudes (give or take) watching/narrating/explaining/listening to a clip from http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Food_Party can rival that.

My teammate Rocky, the 11+ -year man, has taken to setting whatever cup he happens to be holding on the corner of the further team table when he heads into the bathroom. This is a sensible habit. The problem comes in when he forgets he had been carrying a cup once he emerges. This is not actually a problem when it's a work-cup or a compostable one, but when it's a special cup, there's always the unfortunate chance that someone walking by might pick it up. (I don't know of anyone who would be asshole enough to take a clearly personal cup, but sometimes it's a swag cup and people do sometimes divest themselves of same, so it's not always clear.) This time it was a swag cup from a particular event, and I knew he wouldn't want to lose it. I also didn't feel quite like picking it up and trotting it over to his office. So I grabbed the blue tape.

Shortly after that, I was drawn out of my wiki-whacking trance by the sound of giggling, and an iPhone.

Read more... )

Madam Standards was trying to power through some stuff today. I poked my head around the corner of her office mid-afternoon; she was In The Writing Zone, but did want to chat later. I poked back just after five-ish, when she was so far into the zone she didn't seem to register me appearing at all. I went to get my own coffee refill, and grabbed a bonus mug with hot water, three bags of tea (mint, Earl Grey, and passionfruit, so at least one was bound to be reasonable), a couple packets of sweetener, a stirring stick, and one of the little cheeses. I slid it onto her desk and let her get back to it.

"How did you know?"

It's mint, apparently. I made a note.

Purple was working on stuff, and I was walloping at my inbox, so we stayed fairly late. Eventually the need for dinner became an issue. We did stop to chat. It was a lovely warm-compared-to-places-which-are-not-California (and not uncomfortably chilly for California) night under the waning moon with the soft song of at least three owls (two mostly in tune, one contrasting), backed up by at least three leafblowers, punctuated by bursts of police siren echoing back through the parking lot.

I learned that one joking term for the thing where two police cars pull up side-by-side into the cutouts of canyon-walled divided highways and roll down their windows to chat, is "cop-ulation". *groan*

The hug bonked my nose (gently but startlingly) with Purple's shoulder, which wound up silly.

I was tired and hungry, and now I'm mostly just tired. Nora's been sick. I'm cooking up some bacon, some for now and some for later. It smells good.
azurelunatic: The Space Needle by night. Slightly dubious photography. (Default)
As you may see here, a list named "list" would now be listed as
"list-list;list;list;" --

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azurelunatic: The Space Needle by night. Slightly dubious photography. (Default)
Azure Jane Lunatic (Azz) 🌺

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