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December 9th, 2006

TGIF

  • Dec. 9th, 2006 at 1:49 AM
trust, best friends forever, snot-nosed brats
Mary Cheney gets pregnant. US conservative groups get huffy.
The 12 isms of Christmas. NSFW: language.
Via [info]metaquotes: khukuri vs. Huntsman, winner take all. Not safe for the arachnophobic. If you are arachnophobic, in fact, do not Google the Huntsman spider. Your fear will thank you. Also avoid all references to Clockspider.
http://scienceblogs.com/retrospectacle/2006/12/chopstick_accident_leads_to_st.php
Via Making Light: Fruitcake. This resembles the recipe I used with Guide Dog Aunt that one time.
http://community.livejournal.com/hd_holidays/5710.html -- yay fic.
Firepower on the Great Lakes

Today at work, Trendy Chick #2 said that she liked the posters and stuff I'd made for the company party; it made it seem like it would be an actual fun party and not the complete waste of time it was actually going to be. I'm still not sure whether to feel complimented or not.

This morning Turbo came in and cussed at me and told me it was time for the new machines, and asked if I would feel comfortable unplugging things and clearing the old machines off and out of the way. That would be definitely yes. I get the feeling that most of the end-users would not get asked that. I also get the feeling that getting the low-level geek to do the dirty work is a time-honored tradition that was totally being followed in the spirit of the season. And I got to set up the flat-panel monitors (LOVE!!) and while I was finishing my paperwork, he set up the machines and finished his admin stuff. I got box #13, which he semi-apologized for, but once I said it was cool, he said he'd figured.

I did my morning paperwork, then hacked at the custom spreadsheet I am making to make my Monday mornings considerably less than six hours on one damn spreadsheet. Then I went home after the brain started to overheat. I'm at 40.75 hours for the week. Yay.

News.

  • Dec. 9th, 2006 at 12:45 PM
yule, gingerbread motherboard
Heh, I'd hoped to get my summary out by last night sometime. Ha, that didn't go well. Sleep was sort of necessary. But since it's one of the things I do, I'm reading every bloody page of the news post comments. This is going to lead to me being spr0t-on-the-spot, as it looks like [info]burr86 burned out on the multiple news post notifications bug (they are fixing it) around page 44, and I'm probably the only spr0tie reading it right now.

Incidentally, http://www.livejournal.com/manage/subscriptions/ is your friend if you need to temporarily unsubscribe from the multiple news notifications.

Stay tuned for a summary, if y'all want to read that sort of fun.

Tags:

Whee, seasonal fun.

  • Dec. 9th, 2006 at 9:06 PM
trust, best friends forever, snot-nosed brats
http://www.thesneeze.com/mt-archives/000570.php has an absolutely dreadful rendition of "O Holy Night." Just as I was thinking it was not so bad, it got worse. Just as I was thinking it could not get worse, it did. At least is not twenty-five five-year-olds rehearsing "Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star" at once, except not at the same place at the same time, and with younger siblings on slide whistles. (Those were the working conditions in my First Real Job.) Via [info]dduane.

I almost always manage to call Darkside before breakfast on weekends, even if I'm calling at 1 in the afternoon.

I got a nice nap.

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trust, best friends forever, snot-nosed brats
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fault

Blue-veined cream unscrolls before the twitching ink,
subtle curves and jagged patterns.
Lines trace history from side to side,
relentless, every way but forward.
Underground, there is a rumble
Rocks shifting as the world sleeps.
With pen on paper trace what could be words.
They can read between the lines, they with eyes to read.

Heart and soul submersed in city;
Home is driven deep in ancient glass.
Coffee-cup canary in a coalmine deep as death
Sing signals on your wires.
Jitter, catching, scratching,
dip your pen in poison laced with ink.
Mechanical Cassandra
Reading of the rocking, roiling earth.

O, seismometer, which of these foretells our doom?
Your hand adjusts the scales.
Write the spikes.
Which of us will wake the sleeping dragon?
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