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Scattering the words on the wind

Naked Quidditch: The T-Shirt.

LJ Homonyms.

Republicans: Ship Deserting the Sinking Rats

An Atlanta-area church is: "The Church of the Living Dead"! [signpic]


Comic Pirate Supervisor's name is Joe. Mine is Joan. Since mine is pronounced j-OH!-n rather than jo-ANN, there can be confusion when we're working together. To this end, the Comic Pirate declared that my name should henceforth be Barbara. I protested mightily, claiming that I needed to be 'Ni or Loony.

I think he's going to keep calling me Barbara.

I'm doing a double shift tomorrow. This should be all forms of excitement. I was dragging today because I hadn't had enough sleep. Today was only a twelve-and-a-half hour shift. Tomorrow should be sixteen or more. At some point during tomorrow or Monday, I'm going to have to hash out a schedule with my opposite, because next week is Potter Week, which I'd requested part-off.

I wound up striking the Fear of Me into some new phone goons, about never ever ever dialing live on a survey without having gone through a proper briefing. I was Not Pleased. It was $ISSUE_SIDE_JOB, too.

There's one exceptionally non-technical new hire that we have. He scares the rest of us with his utter Lack of Clue on the computers. It wouldn't be so bad if he wouldn't complain about them all the time. That just drives us nuts. I've introduced Stressy College Chick to the proper name for such errors, namely, the I-D-Ten-T error. The polite term is "operator error". I've used that to describe it quite a bit too.

I think Goose Girl was beset in the past by large or multiple predators, because I saw her flinch and cringe when I was correcting her on something, in ways that adults don't normally do. The way that Marx got upset when the Little Fayoumis did. I pretended I didn't see. I was more gentle than my usual brisk supervisory persona, saying "Now you know, then," rather than anything more vigorous.
Gone away, gone ahead,
Echoes roll unanswered.
Empty, open, dusty, dead.
Why have all the Weyrfolk fled?

Where have dragons gone together
Leaving weyrs to wind and weather,
Setting herdbeasts free of tether;
Gone, our safeguards, gone, but whither?

Have they flown to some new weyr
Where cruel Threads some others fear?
Are they worlds away from here?
Why, oh why the empty weyr?

-- "The Question Song", Anne McCaffrey
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