Got up. Shambled to work.
Lennon Glasses Guy needed external speakers for something. I happened to have some of those, and conscientiously labeled them before dropping them on his desk. It's not that I distrust him, it's that it's company-branded gear at a company awash in same, and I kind of like those little speakers and would prefer that someone not think they were abandoned and pick them up and take them home.
Realized, at length, that it was 12:45 and there should probably be some lunch at some point. Pinged Purple, who went approximately, "OH CRAP!" and sent the lunch call. There were cupcakes with a really nice raspberry buttercream frosting. One of the days this week, I'm not sure which one but not today, involved a guest re-appearance of the Rollercoaster Tycoon. He's just down the street, so he dropped in to pay the non-badged lunch surcharge and hang out with the gang.
The blond bearded whitedude designers of the Monkey House have set up a Slack team for the department, in service of chatting in a more lively fashion while planning the internal conference. I immediately set up RSS integration for the related not!Facebook groups. I shall have to ask them about IRC/XMPP gateway setup.
This week's hallmark of my reviews-of-external-stuff to teammates has been bluntness.
"Maybe we could have pizza?" Madam Standards asked, at the Tuesday meeting that was meant to have been about menus for the conference.
"[catering] pizza is crap," I said, and then looked around in the hopes that nobody from catering had been walking by to overhear me.
"What do you think of [file-sharing software from the Borg]?" the shorter blond bearded whitedude asked me at the Thursday conference meeting.
"Unusable," I said. The reaction around the table indicated that they'd been expecting a much more lengthy and perhaps angry rant.
Someone at lunch also brought up the topic of catering pizza, and Purple and I reacted with horror. Purple started to explain it, but seemed unequal to the description.
"Take some really mediocre yeast rolls, about two inches thick," I started. "Smear a thin layer of pretty terrible tomato sauce on that. On top of that, some crappy pepperoni, and mozzarella--"
"Plastic," Purple added. "It's the stuff that turns to plastic after you heat it."
"And after broiling it for not quite long enough, leave it to sit for 45 minutes before serving," I concluded.
There was some discussion as to whether this was supposed to constitute "deep dish", due to the height of the bread layer. The overwhelming consensus was that it did not.
"Hitchhiker's Guide," Purple said. "Tea."
"YES!" I agreed. "It's like an alien who does not know how to cook described pizza to a robot cook who does not know how to love."
The facilities team has promised to clean the I-believe-it's-probably-not-butter off the new couch in the quiet room. Perhaps when I'm feeling a little more bold, I will inquire if there are any spare couches which could be deployed in my building's rec room. It turns out that sometimes you can get amazing things to happen if you know who to ask for them.
radius inquired after people up for a walk, as he was paying a call on a department somewhat east of the milkshake bunker, in order to collect some hardware in exchange for bugs. (This, in fact, was the event that made me look at the clock and go "oops", lunchwise.) I readied a diplomatic pouch (in the chocolate-based-diplomacy sense) and we wandered off. Notes on technology were exchanged. A lot of his expertise involves some deep file system stuff. I explained the basic concept of Slack. He mentioned that stateful implied deeply integrated logging, and how sometimes the department we had just visited occasionally said things which oughtn't to be on the record, and sometimes logs therefore disappeared. I decided to look into how that worked on Slack.
ajlunatic: also I was chatting with one of the guys and a feature that I don't know if Slack has is, occasionally there are things which get said which ought not to have been said, and should be scrubbed from the logs
talldude: hmm that's a good point
(10 minutes of FAQ-trawling)
ajlunatic: so the answer here is: if you say something which should be unsaid, please promptly unsay it, via the handy little gear.
shortdude: hah yep good policy!
The speakers worked out for Lennon Glasses Guy and his team. He returned them. I showed him my doorbell, as knocking on my cabinet will get my attention, but not actually activate my "this person is here for me" routines. He may borrow the speakers again next week. I gave him directions to find them, should I not be present: in the shelf under the flower-crowned loon head, right next to the refrigerator. Directions within my cube are perhaps not conventional.
I disappeared down the rabbit hole of attempting to figure out externally-facing website possibilities for the conference. The thing that the helpdesk pointed me at looks as though it last had its documentation updated in 2009. I may go yell into the team Slack a bit.
Now that fishie is a grown-up, she is learning that the Fishmum is somewhat more flappable than previously evident. Fishmum does in fact experience anxiety every now and then!
I like the battery capabilities of the new phone case. I do not like the implied bounce-resistance capabilities. I will be sitting down with it and some sugru in the near future. I will also have to meddle with the settings on my watch, as the replacement arrived. I got the watch bands switched over (nylon strap for me, thanks) and got the old face packed up to go in the mail.
Eventually I pinged Purple. ("Ping?") In a tiny relief to that part of me which constantly fears that being left out of one thing is a sign that I will be left out of All The Things and should take that as a signal that I am Not Part Of The Group, without overt prompting he asked if I was good with a particular dinner venue. I displayed caution over the possible V-D clogging-up of same; he figured it would be good. (And, perhaps, may have made a reservation.)
There was wrapping up. We headed out. He arrived first, and managed to score a very near parking spot. I did not score same. I found street parking, then found him inside. I hadn't felt the buzz from his text, but he'd sent a very thoughtful text about his location within the building. I'd just been wandering around looking for his hair.
Ms. Antisocialest Butterfly arrived, at length. She'd had Quite Some Time looking for a parking place. We proceeded to have a lovely dinner. Purple needed a large slab of beef in service of not being anaemic. (Anaemia: the opposite of a super-power, unless wacky magnetic shenanigans are involved.) The phrase "the odds are good, but the goods are odd" as applied to the men of Alaska, does not imply that their second and fourth balls have been eaten by bears. (N.B.: do not request oral sex from bears, unless it's the hairy gaydude sort and you have that sort of relationship.) Purple is still impressed with that conversation in which radius and I managed to not-say some really terribly inappropriate things in IRC.
The bench attempted to eat my badge when I stood up. I am happy that I picked a badge reel which is generally over-engineered for the purpose, because my stuff tends to take quite a beating.
I called amberfox
; it's been a while! Phone-based hilarity prompted me to stop at the rest stop in order to call her back after a dead spot dropped the call as I drove through it, and then when she tried calling me, my headset didn't wind up picking up until she'd disconnected.
I am plotting a talk for Open Source Bridge, but so far it's not made it into words.
Tomorrow may involve touring another apartment complex, if I can pry myself out of bed.