February 7th, 2005

teddyborg, geeky

Evening Things

Got out of work before midnight.
Came home.
Reconfigured purse.
Headed out for some much-needed R&R with trystan_laryssa.

Attempted to show her the Strongbad Virus episode, to explain why "Flagrant System Error. Computer over. Virus = very yes." was making me crack up laughing randomly. Failed, as homestarrunner.com seems to be down. (The system. Is down.)

So. Evening. Head massages, backrubs, tickling, snuggling. Giggling.

Crash now. Maybe more time to babble from work tomorrow. The oddly formatted posts with the excessive line breaks are post-by-email; while pretty much everyone checks their webmail from work, I've declared actual visits to the LJ site itself verboten from work, because while we are allowed to use the 'net under the agreement we signed for the IT department, we can't let that interfere with work, and LJ (reading and commenting especially) is a huuuuuuge timesuck. Post, read the mailed-back comments, respond to applicable comments in next post, and be very aware that Corporate is probably keeping track of the websites my account visits.

I turned on the Hyper-Sensitive Safety Filter in the Google Image Search just because I felt that was best for work-friendly content. I am a Good Little Fayoumis, for the most part, though when someone PLAYS WITH THE SPREADSHEETS THAT I'VE STARTED TO TAKE OVER AND TAKES OFF THE FORMULA PROTECTION, I do get rather defensive and hostile and grumble while re-protecting the sheets and setting up zones where the user can bloody well enter things when the sheet is still bloody protected.

One of these days when I have a lot of spare time, I'm going to make sure that all the sheets are set up right throughout the whole thing, and make sure that the master sheet is set up so there won't be any problems in the future. Right now I'm still about ready to string up Cute Geek Super because he left the sheets unprotected and wide the fuck open. (I know this because he was the last one to update them.)

Grargh.

I need to learn more Excel now.
loud fayoumis

Dreams: barfing drake, Miles/some weird thing crossover

I dreamed about some weird thing cross between the Willow House, a pagan bookshop, a used book store, and something psychotic. There was some order you were supposed to visit the rooms in the bookshop in, for whatever weird reason. There was weirdness with someone's spinal implant getting stolen by Ekaterin to save them from the bad guys, and the bad guys seeing the empty container that the spinal implant had been in and drawing wrong conclusions from the size of it, and medical samples and dodging through this maze and biohazard screening airlock things, with radioactive stuff about too in the biohazard zone. It was in the same universe as a lot of the weird dreams with trains and driving the Blue Truck around parts of Alaska. It was also partially in the same universe as the Quaddies, or at least some of their asshats.

And then when I was by the pond that you're not supposed to park at to watch the birds any more, the little one by Smith Lake and the railroad crossing as you're headed down Sheep Creek from the U, there was a big crowd and all these ducks, so I stopped and this one drake came up to me and let it be known that he wanted me to pick him up and take him home.

So I did.

He was wearing a loose collar of black cable ties, not tight enough to be any sort of problem, just a distinguishing feature. Then he hacked up something. I sighed and wiped it up. Collapse )

Finally, when he was about half the size he'd started out at, he waddled off, made a far more traditional ducky mess on the floor, and attacked the salad I'd been going to eat. *sigh* Ducks, what can you say?
  • Current Music
    quiet morning apartment
running, bomb tech

Precious Spreadsheets

Turns out that, after discussing it with Cute Geek
Super, while he may have been the one who left the
precious spreadsheets without protection, and he was
using them without protection, because he hadn't
changed the protection, he's not the one who
unprotected them.

Jokes about sex/condoms go here. (Not actually in the
workplace, but in the whole protection thingy.)

So it looks like I have to go through all the sheets
for all the jobs we do and fix it on bloody all of
them.

Joyyyyyyy.
running, bomb tech

snap, crackle, pop

I'm so wrung-out. I'm exhausted and sore and I can't wait to get home. I'm not sure what happened to get me feeling this way, but I feel like someone's been using the back of my neck for practice tuning violins the fun way ("the fun way" as described by the Little Fayoumis, involving toilets, glue, and general mayhem).

Ow.

Ow, ow.

I need a backrub from someone I trust enough to not lash out at and try to hurt.