02:51 Tuesday, 18 November, 2014
In the Simply Not Allowed files, radius is not allowed to feed Outlook Web Access to a clockspider, due to the disapproval of the Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Clockspiders.
22:16 Tuesday, 18 November, 2014
It's starting to get chilly in California. The ginkgo leaves have turned the same vibrant yellow as I am used to seeing on birch trees, but I'm not allergic to ginkgo that I know of. I haven't had a vat of poolwater upended into my sinuses. Purple loves that color on the trees, and so do I. It's not quite the time of year where Purple breaks out the puffy teal jacket that, when described, makes Steph think of a grouse puffed up against the cold, but it's getting closer. *pauses for a moment to soak in the mental image* (Think http://www.jeffsundin.com/fishing-pictures-2013/ruffed-grouse-1024x780.png
except more blue, with a hood.)
Wanted to wake up early. Didn't. Went to work, vaguely early. Freaked out about car despite swift assessment last night that it was likely to be safe to drive at least to and from work until Friday. Did a little further reading up. Easiest possible problem/solution: loose gas cap. Anything else = trip to the mechanic on Saturday & pray that it's cheap.
I came in to find my chair was stacked with jackets. It was in fact stacked with four jackets, instead of 2. One of the A-Team had excess swag, which he was distributing via the A-Team first. I claimed one for myself.
Located the thought-lost greeting cards in a box under some print cartridges, while searching for the spare tape cartridges for the label-maker, because Mini McCoy had a new dongle and didn't want to lose it (again).
Went to lunch. Due to timing, Purple wound up at the other end of the table. Had some fun conversation with the Rollercoaster Tycoon and Lennon Glasses Guy and some of the others about Office Space, productivity, task-switching, and structured procrastination (building in part from the previous day's conversation). I did not sing The Housewife's Lament, but it was a close call.
Slightly before that, Rollercoaster Tycoon had said something equivalent to: "Reddit is awesome for that. Reddit is awesome for EVERYTHING." I could feel myself pulling up to my full seated height. It was only in my imagination that my hackle feathers smoothed down along my neck and bushed out at my shoulders, just as I was the only person who had just come directly from the context of that Barbie computer engineer book. "If you're a dude," I said. (On Twitter, Sass mentioned that this qualification applies to a lot of things. As does "If you're straight." "If you're white." "If you're able-bodied." Etc.) Here is a photo of a very busy rooster in full aggressive retreat. He will kick the hell out of you as soon as you turn your back. He also looks as though he should be carrying a briefcase, Steph says.
To his credit, the conversation did not go a lot of the places that it could have gone. ( Read more... )
I am still the person at lunch who is happy to settle questions (like, what is that flag on that guy's jacket) (the Cross of St. George) with the internet. In my culture, constant connectivity in the place of primary socialization is a means of including people who cannot be physically present, rather than excluding oneself and one's cherished local people from each other. (I was able to exclude myself from the people I didn't want to spend time with as a kid and teenager reasonably well with books. Headphones and an iPod aren't all that different.)
It's been a wacky day for my manager, running late to everything. I grumbled about Barbie and bad books. (Hooray fanfiction.
) She grumbled about evil developers (who, clearly, are in the business of building evil. And also unaffordable housing in San Francisco.) As we trailed back to our usual digs, I inquired as to jacket size. She does not generally partake of company swag as she is a Woman of Size and therefore most of it does not suit. However, this one? EXCELLENT. She may now smile upon the Attempted Labswiper (as it was he who had the extra jackets).
I saw a passing email from someone who was running late to something because of a meeting which involved Bite Me, McMansplain, and Brutus Cochin. I shuddered. I prepared a small cup of jellybeans, random other fruit candies, and a tequila lemon drop.
Brutus: the famous Roman historical figure: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Marcus_Junius_Brutus_the_Younger
Cochin: a feather-footed bantam chicken. Illustrative of the breed's general shape and stance, though they come in many patterns: http://cdn.backyardchickens.com/4/4b/4bf94cec_4382_p1011779.jpeg
(in summary, the guy's a backstabbing cock.)
lb had a talk at an internal conference today. He has also had The Plague, and been out for the past week-and-change. Purple and Mr. Zune and I walked up to the general area to congratulate him on the talk, and to get ice cream. On the way back, we spotted a hawk up in the top of a redwood. Purple said hi to it. I inquired after Purple & Mr. Zune's jacket sizes. Purple was a match.
Madam Standards is joining the emergency response team. I showed her where my gear is, mentioned that "the blond guy" (Mr. Zune) is also on said team, and showed her the map.
Yay transcription. At least one more day, depending on how many interruptions I get. (Today, they were legion.) In between bursts of transcription, Fishie talked more about her interest in programming. She'd thought her dad sent her the online Java course link because he knew it, but no, apparently he had just been fucking with her, and hadn't thought she'd take the bait. Now she is taking a Python intro course, and is delightedly using the notebook that wound up in The Bag. Also the highlighters. This is the first year she's highlighted her notes. Potential mentors have been popping up out of the woodwork. kaberett
has waved a helpful hand. Purple offered a few slices of time. I didn't specifically have any longish-term assignments that I meant for her, but if Fishie was looking for some, I had a Perl-based project with some nice babydev bugs... Then Sophie had things to say. ;) We shall see whether this results in Fishie showing up in the #dw channels eventually.
My disc-based media player takes blu-ray. I conveyed such to Purple. I also conveyed, awkwardly, that I would in fact very much like to see Mockingjay in the theatre, I was in favor of some form of group trip (assuming I didn't get stuck at the mechanic's), and I was vaguely averse to seeing it alone. (I had found the book chock-full of low-level triggers. Thanks, Shawn-related likely-PTSD!) Purple was uncertain whether or not R would enjoy this movie, as his predictions about her taste are spotty. *sings the not-a-date song loudly while retreating into the ladies' room*
Purple's officemate Mr. Bananas has jacket envy now. He had been in search of a new jacket, and apparently that variety is a bit of a hot item. Purple radiated a bit of smugness. He must wash it before attempting to wear it, or court hives. We do not wish hives upon Purple, particularly as we are not allowed to blow bees at him.
There are not many of the strawberry hearts left in my bowl of Runts candy. Purple has decided that the purple ones are edible. The orange ones are all right. The green ones -- he is sad that the green ones are no longer lime. (Om nom nom lime.) He turned off the lava lamp and we wandered out into the parking lot. I saw a car that was probably R's and waved goodnight. There are at least two little white cars of that style and vintage. The reason Vash has disambiguation charms from every side is because there are so many little white cars of that
style and vintage. I have been roommates with two of them.
Purple declared that this time, he would stick around to make sure that I was able to leave. We talked cars a bit. Every couple days he checks his car to make sure that the check engine light is only the same two codes as usual. But other than that, it's a good car. (I patted it reassuringly. He laughed at me.) The "don't do that" with Vash and hills resulted in other "don't do that, then" discussion, with that tender spot on my left wrist that hurts when I whack it on something. "On a sharp corner, perhaps?" Purple asked. "Actually, it's more of ... 8D ... an edge case," I said. (Groan. Well, mutual grinning and giggling and discussion of how terrible that was.) He poked at his own wrist searching for the pressure point he was thinking of, then gently traced the bones of my not-sensitive other wrist to point to the spot. I agreed that this was a legit pressure point, and that would hurt, but -- I reached for his hand -- *that* was the spot I was talking of. Bodies, man!
After we bade each other goodnight, I marched over to Vash and checked his gas cap. I screwed it back on. "BINGO!" I yelled to Purple. He teased me a bit, then waited to zoom out of the parking lot until I was definitely following.
I managed to be That Guy this evening: the laundry room in the half-basement of my building has just been renovated. What I did not realize until I had walked it off my shoe: the tacky substance that I stepped in seems to have been paint or something. So the brand-new linoleum has a contrasting color of paint in tasteful little spots in every place I stepped until it ran out of tack. The counter was not replaced, and the NFC chip stickers under the counter were not removed, so I have my 35 and 45 minute timers readily available as usual.
Then I got sidetracked looking for bird pictures. http://blastoid.deviantart.com/art/Chicken-79873796