July 16th, 2008

Birthday!

  • Jul. 16th, 2008 at 4:07 PM
Azzgrin, crazy, Azure: Lunatic
Happy birthday, [info]iroshi!

Hammerpants.

  • Jul. 16th, 2008 at 4:30 PM
bad idea, what could go wrong, That Idiot Shawn, XKCD
I have no idea what actually started this discussion, but I walked right into the middle of it. I needed a lead's attention on the thing I was just on, and the lead and the supervisor had just disappeared inside the conference room. "Hammer pants!" I heard as I walked up. Not the sort of carpentry pants that have a loop for a hammer, no. MC Hammer pants. "Mr. Out took your Hammer pants!" I declared to Captain Picard. Picard was therefore declared pantsless. It was that hour of night when everything seems funnier, so Picard was doubled over his keyboard giggling over the next five minutes of escalating Hammerpantslessness jokes.

On my way out to lunch, I stopped and inquired of that pal of mine with no LJ on the call floor if he had Hammerpants. He did not. If he did, he said, he would wear them, just for the sheer awesome.

On our way back in from lunch, [info]tatteredfairy and I stopped and interrogated Pointy Sr. about Hammerpants, although this was delayed by him assuming we were coming to interrogate him about his hat, and his fellow red-lanyard-guy throwing his blouse (it was supposed to have been some sort of cowboy shirt, but in fact it turned out to have been a blouse instead) into the mix.

Once we got back to the Hammerpants, we interrogated him in bad-cop/worse-cop style.

"Are you wearing Hammerpants right now?"
"Do you currently wear Hammerpants?"
"Do you own Hammerpants?"
"Do you know anyone who wears Hammerpants?"
"Do you know anyone who owns Hammerpants?"
"Have you worn Hammerpants in the past?"

"...Yes, actually."

Interrogation dissolved at this point, as all of us were laughing too hard.

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trust, best friends forever, snot-nosed brats
[info]azurelunatic
Azz (bolt of blue) - makes surreal things more so
Azure's Asylum (old content, mostly abandoned)

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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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