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azurelunatic: Hinky: adj: pure evil fuckery afoot. Syn.: suspicious (hinky)
Not allowed to escort the angry man who wears sweatpants for a scarf off my floor if he wanders in; I must let security do any escorting. (My idea was to call security to meet me at the destination floor.)

"If he wanders in" is despite the keycard on the elevator, since (as previously established) he's the sort of guy that one does not want to share an elevator with.

The keycard system was put into the elevator after the time when two guys came in when security was away from the front desk, stole the evening security guy's cologne (and presumably drank it), and proceeded up to a floor with a receptionist and were drunk and disorderly at the receptionist. (The belief is that both the drunk and the disorderly were conditions that pre-dated the theft of the cologne.)
azurelunatic: The Space Needle by night. Slightly dubious photography. (Default)
I am probably not allowed to send this particular friend emails with the subject line "Dance with me, Princess?"
azurelunatic: A baji-naji symbol.  (baji-naji)
Earlier in the week, there was a small layoff. The unofficial communications networks at work have consequently been getting a lot of use as people attempt to figure out where the missing nodes are, beyond the obvious. There is a tradition of people sending a farewell email to their team and other close contacts. And then there are the people who use not!Facebook to do the same, and @-mention every group and individual who they can think of. Thus it was that I learned that Mr. Noise-to-Signal was laid off. Of my friends, the only person I know of who was laid off was R. There were no layoffs on my team.

R has been sent the information on where to find #adventuresofstnono. So have Mr. Zune and radius. (Yes, guys, I use an alias for this as well, and now you know where to find it. I started the practice of aliasing obscure/semi-private venues after the Incident where someone showed up uninvited in a different channel which I had mentioned, then never fit in well, angsted in-channel about not fitting in, and I eventually asked them to leave because I dreaded their presence and they were after all uninvited.)

Also leaving this week was one of the newer people on my team, whose wife got a dream job in another country, and (also as announced on not!Facebook) the second-in-command of the helldesk software. No word as to whether she was part of the layoff, or voluntarily heading for a lawn that hadn't been pissed on greener grass.

It being Friday and that point in the gas tank, I had to get gas before work, which resulted in a later arrival than would have otherwise been. Lunch was pleasant. It was the Rollercoaster Tycoon's last day (he's heading to a startup). I gave him my card.

A conference call with the vendor for the proposed new software followed. Researcher Haystack appears to have taken point on this one. His queries of the vendor's salesdudes are shaped slightly differently than mine. He's coming to it quite naturally from the perspective of the research utility of the thing; I'm coming at it from the shoving-all-the-things-in-it direction. Some of the things I had questions about had not occurred to him. He looks at the data structure of the Excel export of their template and goes "whaaaaaaaa---!!!" and I look at it and I go "wow, I would not have thought to do it like that, but I can do the thing", and most importantly the current thing we are using does not do the thing.

I still have many questions about their alleged choice of primary keys, but I think I can work with the thing.

Haystack likes Salesforce.

I made a list of my favorite software, starting from worst favorite and improving:

[that helldesk software]
[the procurement and expense software]
Outlook Web Access
Kipper/Llama (fondness for the devs is coloring this)

Haystack was slightly surprised. I can't imagine why; it's not as if I haven't made my feelings fairly clear.

It was a beer bash day. I snagged a table. lb was not in, but Mr. Zune soon joined me, followed by Purple and large chunks of his team. radius also joined us. I waved hi to another friend, but the table was not quite large enough, so they sat elsewhere. Mr. Zune told college dorm tales. It turns out that when you freeze and then drop a pumpkin, shards get all over, and then they melt on your bike. This is not pleasant.

Joining #fishbrick is the fishdiscus, or fishbee -- first you #fishbrick the window, and then you throw the much more aerodynamic and prone to shattering fishdiscus through the hole. You can't really handle it barehanded, so you wear gloves. You keep the fishdiscus from sticking to the gloves with herring oil. In case they're gloves you might want to use again, you wear rubber gloves over them. A pair or two.

Shortly after Mr. Zune headed off, Lennon Glasses Guy wandered over.

radius regaled us with some of his OWA war stories. All he was trying to do was to move about 2,000 messages from one folder to another. Several months of swearing ensued. Presently, in the new folder, there are somewhere upwards of 40,000...

Lennon Glasses Guy observed that he's heard about an IRC channel driving some of this group's shenanigans from time to time, and he was curious about it. So he was issued a formal invitation to #cupcake. I think he will appreciate it, because he appreciates it when Purple and I bounce off each other at lunch, and has enjoyed the #cupcake table at beer bash.

The group split up. I went back to my desk and hammered on my inbox and the helldesk stuff a bit, although I was distracted by something terrible happening in Outlook when I tried to pick a conference room. It's always startling to watch the list of conference rooms populate and then vanish...

Presently, Purple pinged me. This time he had indeed parked in the same parking lot as I had, and we walked out. He had a banana and a tangerine; he held them both out and offered me some fruit. I picked the one that would not cause me woe. He suggested a frying pan and some rum. We chatted for a bit, and then he zipped off, as he had places to be. I chatted with Nora on the way home.
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
azurelunatic: The Space Needle by night. Slightly dubious photography. (Default)
If I go with them to dinner, it is collusion, not kidnapping.
I am NOT allowed to submit a ransom request for myself.
I may not request a ransom of two million dollars in lollipops.
azurelunatic: A cartoon bee flying. Captioned "that'll give you, er, BEES."  (bees)
It turns out that the timer set via NFC chip on my phone does not go off when I'm on a phonecall. So I was later than planned to the family Thanksgiving thing. I brought:

* a box of Trader Joe's turkey gravy, in case my aunt was not in a gravy-making mood
* a jar of IKEA lingonberry sauce, in case no one else had thought about cranberry sauce (both Tay and Aunt-Fayoumis did)
* Sparkling cider, Costco-size
* Cards Against Humanity (and Crabs Adjust Humidity), the Bigger, Blacker Box

The turkey took quite some time in the oven. Dinner was going to be around four-ish, but the turkey had other ideas. There was food!!

Read more... )

It was at Guide Dog Aunt's house, so she and Woodworking Uncle were there. Aunt-Fayoumis had come up from SoCal. Tay and her Young Man came down from the city. Hipster Cousin was at home in Portland, and while Infamous Cousin had spent the night, he had several things to go to -- cooking at Mom's in the morning, helping his girlfriend with her cooking in the morning, going to another party in the afternoon, and then heading back to his girlfriend's.

It's been 14 years since Woodworking Uncle was at my erstwhile Overlady's new gig, so it's doubtful that many people there will remember him now.

My sister had been threatening to make cricket and earthworm flour cookies. She brought them. They were the little round gingersnaps, made with whole wheat pastry flour, coconut flour, and of course cricket flour and earthworm flour. They were mostly insufficiently gingery and sort of dry gingersnaps, despite Tay's Young Man drizzling more molasses on them. Tay said that they smelled sort of like dog food, and that it was the same scent from the cricket flour. I tried one. It was not terrible, but one was enough.

There was cooking and chatter and fun. The poodle is still in the Cone of Shame: he has five more days in it, for a total of 30. He seems much more energetic than the last time I was over. Kit, aka Sharkface, remains glossy and ever so enthusiastic. She was out in the yard; Guide Dog Aunt went to bring her in, but she was too wound up. So they played very energetic games in the back yard for a while before bringing her in. She got tucked in her kennel with a kongful of kibble and then a chewie, which she very enthusiastically demolished.

The table centerpiece was a fairly large squash, flanked by pomegranates and tangerines. Aunt-Fayoumis had polished the tangerines, as they hadn't been up to her exacting standards.

Everything was delicious. (Except, perhaps, the cookies.)

I mentioned the rule against me blowing bees in the courtyard to Tay, and then we were suddenly reminded of one of our dad's stories. I sent two emails: first, Purple, advising him that there was apparently a family history, and then Dad, to ask about the exact story (as I didn't want to get it wrong). This morning, he'd remembered it:
I was eating lunch outside [in Berkeley] with some friends, I noticed that an uninvited yellowjacket was cutting out a piece of meat, eating my lunch! It was positioned such that thumping it away was unreasonable, but I had a straw! I pinched near the mouth end of the straw with my thumbnail because I didn't want a yellowjacket down my throat, and placed the suction end near the backside of the miscreant glutton, sucked hard, felt and heard the insect hit the pinched part, and blew it into the bushes! Table companions showed astonishment behavior.

I don't believe that I had this consciously in mind on that lovely late summer day when I bounced the yellowjacket off Purple's arm. (The version that Tay and I remembered was slightly more embroidered and had ended, Shawnlike, in him spitting out an astonished and angry yellowjacket. The real version is still great.)

After dinner, we played Cards Against Humanity. It was the first time for Woodworking Uncle and Tay's Young Man. There was some joking that Tay and her Young Man might be cheating, because of how often Tay chose her Young Man's submissions. And apparently when Hipster Cousin and his girlfriend played Balderdash, you could tell which was Hipster Cousin's because of all her giggling.

My eternal Cards Against Humanity house rule is: this game is for fun. If there is a card that is not fun and is actually terrible, it should not be played; if I think it's terrible too, I am open to throwing it out; if I don't think it's so terrible it should be thrown out, it should nonetheless be withdrawn from that game, marked on the front, and perhaps not put in play in future games; cards which continue to be flagged as terrible should be permanently removed from my deck even if I don't personally object, because enough of my friends won't have fun with them. I have thrown out several so far, and will probably continue to do so into the future.

The best card )

Tay packed me a very full bag of "creepy cookies" to take to work. I will, of course, tell everyone what is in them. I may make some ginger-lemon frosting, to improve the taste.

I slept through most of Black Friday, though I did accidentally help blow up [twitter.com profile] LikeALiar's phone during a meeting, woops. She'd asked for recs! And then we all got in a very intense discussion of The Magicians.

I kind of loved it, because both Harry Potter and Narnia lied to me, and I was that kind of very bright student. Quentin is also a little shit, and both Quentin and the author don't give women a fair turn. I can't think about Quentin as a man, rather than as a person, or I get too stabbity. Seeing Quentin helped me move on from being Quentin.

Tomorrow there is going to be something going on at Guide Dog Aunt's. I hope I'll be awake. And then Sunday, I'm planning to meet up for coffee and fibercraft with [personal profile] quartzpebble. Yay!
azurelunatic: A baji-naji symbol.  (baji-naji)
I am not allowed to blow things with genitals at Purple. Leaves are okay. Leaves don't have genitals. Leafs, as in the hockey players, are right out. At a distance of greater than a quarter-mile, the likelihood of an exact fix is low enough as to render nearly any angle allowable. At a distance of a quarter-mile or nearer, direction again becomes important.

It took us at least five minutes to wind the conversation to a point where I was no longer laughing too hard to drive.

Purple had parked in the other direction, and asked if he could bum a ride back to his car if I'd like him to walk me out. So that's what we did.

I managed to trip on a perfectly flat section of floor in the cafeteria. Purple finds skirts impractical and feels no need to wear them.

"Cousin Purple" is having Thanksgiving with his one friend's family.

The day was transcription, punctuated by someone's network switch going spare and getting its internet taken away. Plus the inevitable fallout from same: the "oh my god I can't reach this tool it's a network problem" and the "holy shit, how do we report an outage" and the "let us contemplate the ways in which our communication between Engineering and IT is fucked" conversation -- it was a bit of a busy day.

I explained in very small words to an IT manager (on behalf of a #VirtualH and #adventuresofstnono compatriot) why the fuck whitelisting email addresses in the tool that blocks email from unfamiliar addresses and furthermore mangles unfamiliar links, will not work for the purposes of having unfamiliar links in logs from strange servers included as text attachments not being fucking mangled by the mangler. Fuck.

Apparently my arguably passive-aggressive means of getting our friend the person incoherently in charge of the helldesk software (3rd tier, I think) to admit that a function went away, is to ask her to explain how such and such a task is accomplished with that set of permissions.

Today was my second time walking an engineer through a really poorly designed form in a way that didn't make the engineer feel stupid, but did hone the rage and hatred of everyone involved. (The first time was Mr. Zune. The 0th time was me vs. the helpdesk.) I am particularly acrimonious about this particular form as this is one of the ones where my usability concerns have been basically brushed off. It's one of the things where using it as it comes naturally is not how it's intended to be used -- if you leave any text in the terrible field before hitting the search icon because your first attempt has failed, the text in the terrible field will invisibly filter the results in the popup. And there is no way to clear the terrible field from the search popup. It makes strong-minded engineers frustrated past their safety-release-valve thresholds, and it makes me incoherent with rage and hatred, and pathetically grateful when the engineers agree just how terrible it is.

It turns out that Dolohov, as he is played in Alternity (the little bits I've seen, as I'm still intermittently catching up with Year 1) makes my inner submissive look thoughtfully around for the kneepads. (Kneeling is good for many purposes, not just the ones that would make Purple look sternly at me and ascertain that I was oriented correctly away. It was only when [personal profile] woggy mentioned a thing that I realized that this would have that implication.)

Purple swears he will remember the Catching Fire disc tomorrow.

Fishie is the perfect child because she loves the jellybeans I hate.

The guy who isn't usually at the burrito station cannot wrap a burrito properly. Jokes about his popularity amongst stoners ensued.

NaNo: not going so great (haven't really had the energy). I'm feeling OK about it.
azurelunatic: The Space Needle by night. Slightly dubious photography. (Default)
Not allowed to peck Purple with my long, dagger-like loon beak.
azurelunatic: Obviously this is the place to come if you want to get murdered by lunatics.  (murdered by lunatics)
It was, yet again, beer bash day. I don't much care for beer. I have a large box of hard hard lemonade left over from OS Bridge, which I'm slowly making my way through. Having done the same once previous, to excellent success, I decided that I was not going to count on the sangria being drinkable, and unceremoniously grabbed carefully brought two random flavors out of the box, to spend some time in my work fridge before bash.

After being advised by Gaff himself that not having yet watched Blade Runner was a Fault, I asked around a bit about who else might be interested in a movie night. And it turned out that the Dean was interested in making it happen. Plus he knows which meeting room has the best sound system.

In search of some better information than those punks at the helpdesk were capable of giving me, I tried googling some of the information I wanted to know about the helpdesk software. This turned up the manufacturer's wiki. Read more... )

Sadly, the first date that the Dean proposed for Blade Runner Night is up against something else. He's thinking again about it.

The beer bashes are often themed. Today's beer bash was themed for that SaaS upgrade initiative. The name, of course, has nothing apparent in common with the actual effects. We wandered out to find that there were piles and piles of branded bottle openers on all the tables. Sort of nicely themed for a beer bash, but we actually don't have beer bottles at the beer bash (having long since reached the keg stage) so it all seemed a little futile. I grabbed some nachos and sat primly down at an "I don't know you personally but I'm sort of with your group at lunch and we nod and say hi in the halls" distance from some of Purple's teammates. There was a band, but they weren't amplified past hear-myself-think stage.

Purple and lb emerged and spotted me. They went after refreshments. As I sat there waiting, I saw the Dean. I had been mulling over a few more thoughts, and felt I should share. So I headed over to where he was, and pitched: "You Haven't Seen This Yet?!?!!" -- the movie night series. Just then Purple showed up over one shoulder and lb showed up over the other, for all the world like an angel and a devil. (Purple gives me the bad ideas, so he was appropriately on my left.) Read more... )

Purple's rule for me has become an in-joke: No more blowing bees in the courtyard! (It was not that I was previously actually allowed to blow bees in any location, courtyard included, but that now there has to be a specific rule about it.)

lb likes to program language games. And "no more" "blowing bees" "in the courtyard" has somewhat the same ring of "Brad" "with BML" "in his dorm room" -- the savour of a really satisfying Clue answer. He's going to toss the idea around in his brain for a bit and see if it's possible to come up with a three-card mix-and-match form of shenanigans which involves a modifier of some sort, an action, and a location, or things that swap in and out well enough.

A navy-blue shape snapped my brain's attention, and I pointed my chin across the party. There was That Security Guard. The guys looked. I moved nearer Purple. lb: "How about that local sports team?" I unwound a little in the presence of trusted friends.

The party cleared out some. The band ceased performing and began to clean up. Things got more quiet.

Everybody had been playing with the piles of bottle openers from the start. Purple stared at the stack on our table, and aired a thought which had clearly been nagging at him all evening: WTF does a person in today's world need with that many bottle openers anyway; are there really THAT MANY BOTTLES TO OPEN IN THIS MODERN WORLD??!!?

-- And because sometimes life is just really that great and presents opportunities that great, I reach my hand in my tote bag and slam a hard hard lemonade down on the table in front of him. Everybody cracks up.

lb: "I don't drink things I can't screw off with my hand."

Azz: "In the courtyard." (again with the laughter)

Purple reads the bottle: "HARD Blood Orange", and that reminds lb of a certain Japanese celebrity. Pro wrestling characters are wacky and arguably embarrassment-squick when doing Reality TV Stunts in every culture! ~Hoooooo!!!!

Eventually it was time to go. Purple stopped by my cube and we headed for the parking lot. This time the chatter was mostly about our respective levels of general functionality in the morning, with bonus Shawn trauma )

I now know what I want to be for Halloween. This is a change from the previous several years, where it was a last-minute effort. This one is going to involve a shawl, a necklace, a hat, and a whole bunch of white buttons.
azurelunatic: Blue-iced cupcake with sprinkles.  (cupcake)
Without even asking, I know that I will not be allowed to cause a cake to be made with the slide that announced a specific unpopular decision from upper layers, then track down that decision maker, and stand by glowering as the cake is served. That is what we call a career-limiting move .

Even if I could, I would have to find a bakery under NDA.

I realized over lunch that internal catering have to have clearance to make various of the things they do.

Kat spoke to me of the ways of edible ink cartridges in regular inkjet, on ricepaper.

Purple suggested I have printed a blank of the slide, and pipe words on.

Kat suggested making a word scramble, farming out a small piece to each of a few bakeries, then playing puzzles on the blank.

I love my friends.

My tweets

Jul. 14th, 2014 12:03 pm
azurelunatic: The Space Needle by night. Slightly dubious photography. (Default)
Read more... )
azurelunatic: The Space Needle by night. Slightly dubious photography. (Default)
Not allowed to stab anyone with chocolate.

Not allowed to use keys as a stabbing weapon on the chain of command.

An icicle might work. It melts.

Cannot sell uterus to the lowest bidder. Theoretically it is allowed, but nobody was buying.
azurelunatic: The Space Needle by night. Slightly dubious photography. (Default)
Any explanation for the candy named "sour cherry balls" that starts with a mental search for the name of the profession that is to fruits as a veterinarian is to animals, does not need to be made in the workplace.

This near miss interaction involving my candy dish was with the Stage Manager. My brain went there, but fortunately wiser minds prevailed before it got out my mouth. "My brain is in the state right now where all of its contributions involving the name of the candy are unhelpful."
azurelunatic: The Space Needle by night. Slightly dubious photography. (Default)
  • A hilarious version of the pronoun conversation which took a detour through Second Life.

  • Waking up at 6am with the thought "You know what? This is a great
    for an oil change."

  • Getting to work before all the parking disappears, even with the oil change.

  • "I always thought you were a sick person, but now I know you definitely are!" -- Purple, upon hearing the 6am bit.

  • The many ways in which the concept that the oil light is an emergency situation got reinforced to Figment at the start of that ill-fated date: my vehement lecture, the concurrent clunking noise from his engine, the subsequent hike and tow truck odyssey, and then the engine

  • Categorizing typos, written and otherwise.

  • Being exactly as helpful as a ferret in a bowl of packing peanuts.

  • Accidentally magnetizing the whole silverware drawer.

  • It gets worse before it gets better. )

And now, a gif of some ferrets bouncing around in a bowl of packing peanuts.

Read more... )


Jan. 17th, 2014 12:50 am
azurelunatic: Vuvuzela emitting sound waves in a black and yellow road sign style icon (vuvuzela)
Today I drove. The parking situation was sort of dire at the hour I got there; I parked in the far garage and thought I could walk between the car and my building without a cane. Which was not the smartest decision I ever made, but not the dumbest either.

I had emailed Researcher The Stig regarding planning for his upcoming thing; part of that had included "hella pizza". He emailed back saying that he had been waiting for someone to use "hella" in work email since he arrived here, and I had just made his day. (Heh.)

This resulted in a lunch table discussion of how "hella" could be usefully added to services that have moods as part of their updates. I proposed that it be added to the list. The Renaissance Man counter-proposed that it be a tickybox to apply to the mood: are you tired, or hella tired? And then, if your entry was hella, was there anything that could be done to the styling? The Renaissance Man suggested that positive emotions could be intensified in some way, and negative emotions could be maybe faded.

Now it turns out that he had hit on one of my modest design-and-emotion related hot buttons unawares, and I hastened to enlighten him. He and I were both on the same general page as far as "positive" emotions, but just because more amped up works for "happy" and more diminished works for "sad", from the directions we were looking at it, doesn't mean that works for everything. "Angry" is also an energetic emotion, so "hella angry" would be adding intensity; "calm" is a quiet emotion, and "hella calm" would be a good thing, if perhaps excessively quiet.

Lunch was short, as I had a meeting to get to. I raced to the room I thought it was, consulted my phone, and raced to the room it actually was.

The meeting was about the upcoming internal thing, in the summer. In with the rest of the other stuff, Shibe Designer was on the topic of swag. I sort of think of him as kind of a wacky guy who is possibly likely to explode stifled creativity in an unexpected and possibly destructive direction, but he surprised me by stating a rule for swag up front: "Nothing that can be caught on fire."

There are a lot of things that can be caught on fire, y0.

This means that the candle wrapped in condoms which you can use as a slingshot or a whistle is right out.

Yesterday I bestowed some more chocolate covered espresso beans, and also some non-caffeinated pomegranate chocolate things upon the Renaissance Man. ("If it's not caffeinated, what's the damn point?") Today included the strict instructions to not stick them up his nose. Also a prohibition against snorting caffeine powder mixed with pixy stix. I shortly thereafter provided him with two pixy stix: "One for each side." Despite his previous firm declaration that he did not put citric acid up his nose. (Installing Citrix in your sinus data center: probably also a poor choice.) I finally remembered that I'd brought FEED with me, and dropped that off, for his copious spare time. (Basically it sucks to be the one person who does a thing who is also not on vacation when something urgent happens with the thing; he's My People now, and $FAMILY takes care of Their People.)

I bumped in to his officemate in the break room, and we introduced ourselves. I am still not used to being relatively tall, even though statistically speaking I know I am.

I headed out at a reasonably sensible hour to do hella pizza research. (Amusement: someone else's concept of "a lot of pizza" was "what, like 10 boxes?" Actually, math says 33.) My poor Researcher The Stig is getting stage fright: not the literal fear of being himself up in front of people, but fear that it'll be a complete shitshow of an event with all the ad-hockery and stuff hanging out of the fronts of our pants. I gave him the duck lecture. Even with many of the things that could go wrong, we already have the advantage of having had some of them go wrong before, and things still went well.
azurelunatic: A spray of $CELEBRATORY_FIZZY_BEVERAGE from a beribboned bottle caught in the moment just after the cork pops. (champagne)
various work stuff )

Lunch was good: I sat down with the Renaissance Man and someone who may have been his former teammate, yet another guy with the same freaking name. (Darkside, upon receiving my wailings on this topic, made some historically-themed jokes at my expense.) Shortly Mr. Zune joined us, and the four of us made quite the jolly half-hour of it. Topics included The Aristocrats, piano comedy as a genre and its brightest stars (which is not a topic the gentlemen had really intended to become experts in, but it turns out if you're into standup and music, you're going to hear of Tom Leher), what-if, the Renaissance Man's status as the Good Twin (his evil twin moved to Alaska), the incredulous powers of my eyebrow to extract increasingly defensive explanations from the relatively morally upright party, my manager's long-suffering patience with the wacky hijinks of myself and others (no, really, I'm not the only loose screw in my department), the requisitioning of odd office supplies via Office Depot, the blanket prohibition on noisy and projectile toys as gifts for all conference attendees, the loophole that didn't prevent noisy toys as committee/manager/helper gifts (I had a few slide whistles), the unlikelihood of getting chainsaws via Office Depot, how helpdesk is basically unflappable, and how if one person walked in to Helpdesk and asked for a chainsaw they'd think he was weird, and if two people do it, they'd think they was friends, and if three people do it, three, can you imagine, three people walking in to the helpdesk and asking for a chainsaw, and they may think it's a movement.

And all of us chainsaw-lovers belong on the Group W Bench.

From that point, someone, someone who was definitely not me, and was probably one of the #cupcake crew, suggested a team-building exercise where half the people get cans of air, and half the people get little horn-shaped bits of plastic, and you have to build team by finding one person with the other part, and then you're teammates. Later I elaborated on the concept such as each horn would blow at a different pitch, and you'd have to organize yourselves by tone, sort of an air horn version of a handbell choir. I found the idea hysterical.

My Overlady was not impressed by this genius idea, and told me that I wasn't allowed to play poker. Read more... )

My tweets

Dec. 11th, 2013 12:01 pm
azurelunatic: The Space Needle by night. Slightly dubious photography. (Default)
Read more... )
azurelunatic: The Space Needle by night. Slightly dubious photography. (Default)
...now includes any snack food with powder of a color that is usually a terrible warning when encountered in nature.


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

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