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Moments from today:

"My babysitter's running low. ...Late."

Strawberry blonde! Now made with real strawberries!


The guy who called up, called us fucking sons of bitches, et cetera, and then called us from a cellphone and whistled at us. Rev. Not-So-Nice Super eventually answered the phone on him. (He's infamous for answering the phone. We don't let him do it often.)

Someone insane called up wanting to know if we had an internet connection. Rev. Not-So-Nice Super said yes. The someone wanted to know how fast it was. Rev. Not-So-Nice-Super wasn't able to answer the question, and "put them on hold" ... complete with humming and bopping some "hold music" through his fist into the microphone. By the time he was about to "transfer" to Comic Pirate Super, who was going to take the call, the dude had hung up.


"My computer locked up!"
"What did you do to the computer this time?"
"IT'S THE COMPUTER'S FAULT! IT CAN'T EVEN SPELL!"

"What part of 'find a booth in Area 2' did you not understand?"
"I'M NOT SUPPOSED TO READ ALL THAT SPAM!!"
"Job-related paperwork being put on your desk is not spam."
"I DIDN'T ASK TO GET IT! IT'S SPAM!!!!"


(in short? Must. Control. Fist. Of. Death.)
Calling Darkside after work never looked like such a good option. A minute and a half with him at the end of lunch break. So good.
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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