October 24th, 2006

exhausted, tired, Azzsleep


A phrase I overuse: various permutations on "Google is my friend!"
A website I'm constantly on (other than LJ): Yahoo. For my mail.
Most absurd technical question I've ever been asked: "What does an iPod do, anyway?"
Where I go online for my pr0n (or other guilty pleasures): Literotica, Google Image Search, PornoTube; assorted LJ communities with nice steamy fic; assorted searches (Google again!) on favorite pairings; pairing-specific archive sites; fandom-specific archive sites.

Vegemite is kicked out of the US. ...The fuck? The FUCK??!?!!
Ah, an IRC love song. "Boten Anna", by Basshunter.
Defeat the pumpkin! Your Targ will eat its heart!
Dear Jack Thompson, you don't even need help looking like an ass.

Today was the day of the robo-dancing copier. It was a "WTF?" moment. I went over with the papers and the machine said that the print job was not printing; if you want to make copies push the interrupt button. So, after a bit of fumbling around about which one was that, I did so.

And then the copier went nuts, and started making sounds like it was printing but not. I put paper in, as I saw that at least one of the bins was out. No, that did not work. My elder clone's husband, Mr. Site Services, was called into the fray. He, and the power button, prevailed.

That was sort of the highlight of the day. Came in at 9, did the first spreadsheet, got in a dreadful tangle due to paperwork being turned in incorrectly by supervisors (starring Homie G. Super and the double-charged downtime), got help, tried to make copies, got help, made and distributed copies, trained with Obso1337 Manager on more spreadsheets, had lunch, trained with Pink Shirt Guy on more spreadsheets (related to those I'd been working on with Obso1337 Manager) and eventually got released.

Went, gave plasma. Came back home. Checked mail and stuff. Retrieved roommate. Took shower. Realized I had no lunch for tomorrow. Started cooking with crockpots. Spent way too long on that, but got onions cooked down and freezing into flavorful onion ice cubes of "where did my seasonings go?" goodness. My friend has an office-pest who uninvitedly uses the spare chair to bring angst to the office. I suggested a chair-cactus, because nothing says love like an obnoxious cow-orker running screaming from the office holding her butt because of unexpected cactus.

Tomorrow: work. Hope it becomes early bedtime, because OMG I WILL BE THE TIRED.

Concept: window-specific capslock. Even application-specific capslock. It could be useful.
Pink Shirt Guy has a "highlighter of the day". It is the one that matches his shirt. That is his cunning little system. He is totally OCD about some things, and that's quite all right with me.
  • Current Mood
    exhausted exhausted
running, bomb tech

Notes from Oct 8th


Written on the side of a seating chart:
Turbo still here.
[Pink Lady] wanting to know shouldn't I be bouncing off the walls by now? [Homie G] wanted to know where that comes from.
Scoville Scale fun.

That was my insane double shift night; I'd had most of a two-liter bottle of Dew by that point in the night. Homie G wanted to know where the expression "bouncing off the walls" came from. I explained by demonstrating how one acts when one is hyper. He grokked it.

We'd ordered wings. The two flavors were "Suicide" and "Zombie". Both were hot. One of them had peppers in the hot sauce, in addition to just the plain hot. Homie G wanted to know how you would go about measuring hot. I mentioned that it was called the Scoville Scale, and shared anecdotes about Dad and the habeñero peppers.

Good times. Pity I wasn't more, you know, awake for all that.