caudelac: (zzzzzzzzzz)
Really awesome weekend. Not surprising, when said weekend starts on Wednesday night and has so incredibly much of spending time with splendid people whom I adore very much, and do not get to hang with as often as I'd like in it.

In the course of this, I saw a really good Sarah McLaughlin concert, learned how to play Texas Hold 'em & flipcup (don't ask), tried tequila shots (no, I didn't actually go to college, why do you ask?), and got some minis painting done in time for Sunday's AE game. Re-wrote chapter 5 of The Story On Which I am Working (tm) and still hated it. Got a fantastic idea from bemoaning this fact to [livejournal.com profile] shieldhaven, and am some combination of Alas! because I am at work and not writing it, and because I am at work and not sleeping.

Well, to everyone their little cross.

Also-- and this is completely B's fault-- mutually came up with a really wonderful and horrible idea that is going to occupy whatever parts of my brain that are awake all day. My brain ought, however, to be occupied with getting ready for my D&D game on Friday. Because my players might, you know, want to have encounters to go on.

Yeah.
caudelac: (Arr!)
I had a lot more to say, and then the skip 80 f*list fried my brain. Also the bosslady being a snippy bitch.

[livejournal.com profile] succinct is right. This is the best shirt ever.

Baruch Atah Adonai Elohaynu Melech Ha-Olam, Dear and most beloved Ha-Shem, I can think of about six people this morning who are far too intelligent, awesome, and rockin' on my f*list alone who are unemployed, badly employed, soon to be unemployed and the like who deserve better. Please extend that helping hand. Show an interest. Before we all start listening to hippity hop music like 'I left my wallet in El Segundo', and other songs with the titles spelled all funny. Adonai Elohaynu, Adonai Echod.
caudelac: (hang the stars)
The bad thing about coming back from a vacation is that one is out of the habit of going about the million things that are usually done, and the million things that were, "oh yeah, I'll do that when I get back."

Foremost: calling Realtor to set up time to sign listing paperwork today; meeting with bossman re: presentation I am supposed to give tomorrow.

Anyway. I rolled into RDU at 8:25 this morning, having spent a night in Atlanta-- voluntarily gave up seat to help with overbooking. In return, got $400 flight voucher, free hotel room, & food for the night and morning. SWEETCORE. This means trip back to FL in May for Shrimpfest will be free for myself and also the [livejournal.com profile] marshalmeg.

Mmm... freeness.


ooh... I've finished all my work for the afternoon, just about. And the next term doesn't start until tomorrow. And I've called everyone I need to call and left messages if they weren't there. An hour and 15 minutes left of work, and all the bosses are gone, and I am full of beef samosa. And I have way too much to relate to even know where to continue.

I think I will play a little Animal Crossing, and then I will write a little something or other, and then see how we feel after that.
caudelac: (Default)
I'm sure I have lots of stuff to do today, but apparently none of it is here at work. But the only thing more anoying than being terribly bored here is /not/ being bored here. So...

Microsoft Access Forms? downloading music Microsoft Access forms.

In other news, one had a lovely weekend, and Season Ten of M*A*S*H is awesome, and yes.

Okay.

Forms.

Rock.

(Damn my eyes for forgetting to bring that copy of Master and Commander I wanted to read. Sigh.)
caudelac: (hope.)
O' Lord,
I have very little to say
except that it would be really nice
I mean, most pleasant and fine,
if some of the people we are doing jobs for would pay us
Sometime this life,
So that in return,
MY BOSS COULD PAY ME.

Last week was no pay from the vacation time, yes, but this week-- nada. And next week, when I shall be owed two (very large and with overtime) checks, it is dubious.

My [livejournal.com profile] marshalmeg is moving in a week from tomorrow (!!!!). Blessed and Mighty, I would very much like to still have a home for her to move into. I would like that home to have lights that I may see her, and gas that I may cook for her, and water that all who dwell therein might bathe. I should also like that there be food, to be cooked at all. For this I humbly beseech thee, O' Lord.

Baruch atah Adonai, Elohaynu melech ha'olam, oseh ma-aseh Bereshith, Amen.
caudelac: (standing out in a crowd.)
So today is the happy Root Canal part II funjob, in which it was to be determined whether or not this Rabbit has developed an immunity to novicain. This at two. She leaves at one. She passes out at three, god willing.

Oh! And Jason Mewes isn't dead, he's only sleeping been in rehab. Which everyone probably knew but me, but I swear conventional wisdom a while ago was that the bloke was dead. Go figger.

Also, 7:30-5:00 as a regular schedule sucks ass. That is all.
caudelac: (Konstantin)
For the past several days, I have woken up with the song 'In California' by Neko Case stuck in my head, and it has persisted through the day. My dreams have been entertaining and inconsequential, though the past two have been tinged a bit with predictable lonliness; the natural state of having become accustomed to sharing a bed, and then not.

And now I take my lunch at my desk, reading a few pages of A Place of Greater Safety and playing at phrases like a bored clerk, which I suppose I am, yet again, ad infinitum. I will not be a bored clerk until I die, I think, but for the moment it is a little comforting, and I can eat crackers and sweets and bagels slathered in butter, anise taste of licorice (I am fonder of it, than I was younger), and amusing fictional maunderings of Robespierre and his priest, such as the following, which amused me particularly:
"You think I should just be myself?"
"Why not?"
"I usually feel some greater effort is called for."

Oh, someone in 1774 apparently thought and hoped that young Bourbon XVI, that unfortunate Capetian, would be the ressurection of Henry IV. Pauvre lui, I would give him a raspberry tart and a hug.

Oh, I will roll up the bottoms of my trousers and I will go back to work. In conclusion, they have decided at work that my name is Coneja. Also my co-workers can hear it when my ears ring.
caudelac: (Default)
Y'ever notice how it takes much more time and effort to create something to to a task for you than it actually would to complete the task yourself? And yet it is infinitely more interesting to do the former than the latter.

creating relational database to collect customer info > actually calling the customers.

for example.
caudelac: (taco bell is not the russian winter.)
Either this drawing is going to snap to the fucking grid like the little tool SAYS it is supposed to be doing, or I am going to just plain fucking snap. How the fuck did you even get off the grid, you bloody...

Oh wait, it's time to go home.

...

Oh. Well.
caudelac: (*coughcough*)
So. Been here since 6:30 am. Same tomorrow. Therapy and gaming tonight. I am utterly alone here in the office. I will be flat on my back by this weekend, again. Watch.

9 CAD outlines to do, twelve proposal folders to set up. I suppose I should work on summadat, huh?

Yeah, probably.

Today, my Kingdom for a T-shirt which reads, 'I'd rather be eating Opium'.

And a paperweight shaped like concrete shoes.
caudelac: (Konstantin)
Rip Van Winkle is so my Hero.

Princess Aurora, close runner-up.

This would be gravy, except the stupid phone keeps ringing.
caudelac: (Konstantin)
If Orin Skrivello from Little Shop Of Horrors were a cheery little Asian Lady, that might well be my dentist. I think she shoves the damn novicain needle in too deep and in the wrong place on purpose, so that she can do it multiple times before one becomes actually numb, and have an excuse to operate while one is still not. So more needle shots during the root canal. Which was only half a root canal. Three shots, half an operation. GAH. Also, I think I am developing an immunity to novicain. Or both.

Started hallucinating scenes with dragoons and drag queens and dragoon drag queens at the moulin rouge before I passed out last night, much to the likely amusement of [livejournal.com profile] marshalmeg. Yay controlled painkillers. I knew I should have just done the military thing and had vodka instead of vicodin. Or both.

One is not usually in pain when the novicain eventually wears off either, though last night was rather agony. Just slightly sore today, though will have to *shudder* call them if it doesn't wholly go away. Please lady, don't have left any of the nerve in there. I shall be turribly unamused.

gmail is down. TurboCad is laughing at me.

June isn't May, but it's giving it the old college try.

(and yes. This is kinda a GIP. I like this icon way too much.)
caudelac: (Default)
I'm being good. It's lunch. I have actually been working on work since 7:30.

This will be a demi-permenant arrangement, apparently. 7:30-5 are my new hours OMGf34RZ!

My body cries murder, my unpaid bills rejoice.

Hafta change the battery connectors in the Red Molly as well. Aw reet. A lunes, pienso.

It's all about the priorities.

Insert an amusing anecdote about BossLady and co-wrokers here. Believe me, it's probably happened today.
caudelac: (Lor' Protector!)
Yesterday TurboCAD, today Microsoft Access.

There's not much else going on that I even want to talk about. Some things are dull, they bore me, they're one note, they don't sing! Even my Tower is as dark as a cave full of stone-tooth stalacties, and yes.

Much praying that [livejournal.com profile] marshalmeg school crap will get sufficently settled, or I shall oscillate back to Homicidal faster than you can say, "Marshal Junot's got syphilus!" But am fairly confident that this will work out with minimal worry.

I should eat a lunchthing, and one that does not involve pints of ice cream from the stop-and-rob up the way.

Access dammit. No wait, lunch. Yay.
caudelac: (splitting headache)
I like my job.

Javert is dead.

Whee!

X_x
caudelac: (wide awake.)
So-- day three of training. Been pulling 7:30-5, which would be lovely if I were not absolutely allergic to crawling out of bed before 7. Which doesn't mean I don't do it, it just means I break out in hives until 8.

Title is a quote from the BossMan in the course of training. I believe this to be true.

Trig had practical application at work today. No really, I had to find the length of the side of a right triangle from having the length of one side. Fortunately, I rolled a success in my 'look up how to do math again online' skill. Up up, one skillpoint in teh maths. Sine is my bitch.

Back to inventing new ways to lose at CAD.
caudelac: (cannondrag)
Down down the barricade.

Up, up, summer comes.

Work, work, the rabbit goes, a slave of mouldy floor-joists and TurboCAD.

And the band played on.
caudelac: (tokyo SMASH!!!)
Welly well, it seems that as of next week, my job description will be changing some. That is to say, I get to learn the BossMan's job, going with him to inspections and such, doing the paperword and TurboCAD stuff and yes. The bad news is that this necessitates being to work by 7:30 all next week and possibly the week after.

The good news is that I get a dollar raise, bare minimum, up to possibly $15 an hour.

Oh so right my wurkin' goes.
caudelac: (cathedral Z screaming)
So, as both [livejournal.com profile] marshalmeg and [livejournal.com profile] silvarawilde mentioned, there were gunshots outside the house last night. Which always makes me think of Spain. But anyway. We were watching the (bloody excellent) BBC series of Ghormenghast last night too, which put us already in a dark and slightly feral mood, but lo. A bullet-- probably a 9mm-- likely hit the wall outside Sil's bathroom. Y'know, while she was in it.

This morning, the neighbor found a shotgun shell in front of the tree by the street (the house is set way back from such), and snarled a little. And the bosslady yelled at me for not calling the cops.

To tell the truth, the thought of calling the cops didn't even occur to me. But then, I would probably think of calling my senator before I thought of calling the cops. I... well, sort of know why, but I have this deep-rooted belief that the police are absolutely and utterly incapable of life. I dunno. Maybe it would have done some good, maybe not, but I find the cognative disconnect... interesting, anyway. I dunno.

Therapy and mexican food to-night. Right now: English muffins and paperwork.

How the mighty have splattered.

(And lo', a merry natal to [livejournal.com profile] reynardbleu. Many happy returns of the day, ay wot.)
caudelac: (hang the stars)
It is time to leave this place of Wurk and Git On Da Road. Directions are printed, essentials packed, sexay outfits planned, et cetera...

My co-worker, Senorita J is also going to another state this weekend to see her Other Half. Who is also graduating from school this summer. There was much commiseration. The Ladies of Waterproofing are cheerful ladies today.

And I go away.

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