I hated this weekend, and for once I will be glad when it's Monday and time for work again.
For those of you who don't know, I'm part of the web crew that runs Urbanswirl.com, Slackerhell.com, this site and a few others. I only blog a little, my primary gig with the group is to design the sites and run the webserver. And now with that in mind, I will begin my rant.
I hate Microsoft - and I love Microsoft. I hate Microsoft because none of their crap wants to work with anyone else's crap. I hate that I have to read 10,000 forum messages and search all over the interwebs to find a solution to a simple problem because Micro$oft's crap is so damn finicky. Why can't they make their crap so it will follow the damn rules! Meanwhile the server and all of our sites are down and everyone is calling and texting - the wife unit is poking me, literally. The whole time all I could think was "damn it I'm missing the game".
Finally, after a half hour of down time I fixed it. I felt like Capt. Kirk. Everytime I fixed one problem two more popped up in its place, like tribbles. At one point I wanted to just nuke the whole server, kill all of the damn tribbles. I could see them. Their furry little error codes. Fornicating and multiplying in the event log. Laughing at me. Fuckers.
Now that it's done maybe I will rethink why I love Microsoft. Why do I love them you ask? Because Microsoft's crap allows me to be lazy, the thing I love most - perhaps even more than the wife unit. I don't have to type any command codes, I don't have to compile anything - just click and go. Everything is a 5 minute task - that is unless you get an infestation of tribbles.
Maybe I'll think about Linux, afterall this whole adverture made me miss the afternoon game, gave me a bruise on my arm (from the wife unit poking me), made my mouth dry (from lack of beer and snack items), and will probably give me tribble nightmares tonight.
Edited to add: I know some of you out there are saying "what the hell is a tribble?" Well take a look at the following clip and be terrified.
Last night I had the opportunity to watch the best TV show of all time, Hole in the Wall!
This show is the height of TV entertainment, they should win an Emmy. I laughed, I was spellbound at the edge of my seat, and I laughed some more.
What the hell is Hole in the Wall you ask? It's a Japanese game show import where basically contestants dress up in shiny moonman suits and attempt to pass thru a hole in styrofoam wall as it comes towards them - if they fail to pass thru the wall it pushes them into a pool of water. Comedy genius!
I have survived the wedding! My torture diet is over! I am so happy I could dance naked in the street. This Labor Day weekend will be filled with unabashed gluttony. I will fill my face with pizza, Doritos, take-out chinese, and various types of bbq'ed meat products until I burst.
Surprisingly the wedding wasn't so bad. The wife unit's hair was sufficiently rescued by regular stylist guy so that we could go (the red is gone, but now it's sort of a monochromatic brown). At the final weigh-in I was exactly 11 lbs lighter, so the wife unit took me for a new suit. I looked good - not like Brad Pitt, but maybe like the Mac guy - is that sexy?
The wedding was a big fat elaborate waste of money. There were over 500 guests. They had table service and an open bar. Did I mention the open bar? Yes, I drank my supper. What choice did I have? The dinner that was served was "gourmet". So that meant little tiny servings spritzed with greenery and little dots of colorful sauce on big white plates. The only thing that kept me from being pissed off about the meal after starving all summer to come to the stupid wedding was the open bar.
After the "dinner" or what I like to call the presentation of the food decorations the live band came on. Usually I hate the bands that play at these things. They are usually bad cover bands or someone's dad trying to do a energetic version of "lets get this party started" - but this band was actually pretty good. They stayed with songs that were upbeat and matched their style - there is nothing more surreal than watching a 40 year old woman trying to belt out Beyonce's "Crazy in Love" while simultaneously trying to do the "butt dance" from the video. So we danced and did the obligatory "soul train line", where I went down wagging my newly slim ass with a drink in my hand - the wife unit was proud.
Afterwards, on the way home we stopped at had dinner at Chili's - after all that mugging for cameras and dancing the food decorations had burned away and our bellies were empty. Chili's is great for just this type of outing. They serve huge portions and nearly everything on the menu is either greasy, cheesy or spicy - just what you need after chewing on sprigs of mint leaves all night.
I have decided that I will continue to follow the torture diet until Friday night - gotta finish off the rest of these diet frozen dinners. Then this weekend the wife unit and I will break out the grill and rub each other with meat induced sweat. Nice!
Yesterday the wife unit went to the hair salon. This usually is an all day affair, an appointment followed by lunch and shopping with her friends to show off the fresh do. This leaves me in the house alone to lounge around in sweats and free to cheat on my wife-imposed diet. Imagine my surprise when she arrived home while I was still enjoying my contraband take-out chinese food.
I was really about to panic because she had her "I'm beyond pissed off" face on. But before I could even swallow my last greasy morsel, she came at me fuming "would you look at this!!!" At first I thought she meant my smorgasbord of Chinese delicacies but then I looked at her - really looked at her and then I saw it. Her normally brown hair was now streaked with stripes of angry looking red.
At this point I had a quick internal conversation with myself. My first reaction was to laugh - I know, I'm an ass - but my brain quickly assessed that she was definately not in the mood for that, and that I would probably get a pass on the Chinese food if I didn't laugh, or ask to post a pic of her mutant skunk hair on my blog.
So I did the smart thing and remained silent while she told me her tale of woe. In between trying not to cry and cursing she told me of how her regular hair guy was sick so the salon offered her a different stylist. How she really wanted it done today, meeting with the girls already set, wedding we are to attend is next week, etc etc. How she explained to the temp stylist chick what her usual guy does for her and that she wanted the same today (Pffft! I didn't even know the wife unit's "honey" highlights came from a bottle). Wife unit said she should've left after the temp stylist began consulting other stylist about the mixing (They mix it? Didn't know it was that complicated), but she didn't want to be rude or hurt her feelings. But that now she looks like this.
Readers, I have to tell you, it is pretty bad. Not only does her hair have red not honey streaks in it, but it looks a little stingy or frizzy or - just not good. The more she told me, it stopped being funny. She was really upset. She told me that the salon told her to come back on Monday, that regular dude would be back and could "fix" it. I'm not so sure. I can't see how you can fix it short of shaving her head.
I spent the next 15 minutes or so taking pictures for "evidence" just in case she wants to make a federal case out of it - like if it can't be "fixed". We then finished off the rest of my illegal Chinese food and then I went out to get pizza and beers. When I got back we drank enough beer so that her bi-color hair actually became funny again. Then we had hot mutant skunk sex, which is always nice.
I hope that super stylist dude can fix it. One, because the wife unit is really, really, really upset about it. She actually said she won't go to the wedding if it's not fixed. Which will mean that I have been on a torture diet all summer for nothing. Two, because as I look at her hair this morning in the sober daylight it really is quite horrible. It looks like something one of the goth chicks would do at home in their bathroom sink. Not cool on someone who is a boss in a corporate environment. And three, because she's upset about it. Most of the time I am an ass, but I actually do love the wife unit, and it pisses me off that she paid alot of money to have someone screw her up like this.
So super duper stlyist dude better mix a magic potion and make the wife unit whole or I just may go down there and - well I just might call up there and - Well I will might just blog the hell out how much I hate that salon.
You will have to excuse me if I'm a little cranky, it's just that I've been busy dodging knives all last week at work. That can take up a good bit of slacking time during work and that makes the Slacker an unhappy camper.
My company is going thru a "re-organization", basically that's code for "we're about the fire a whole bunch of people". Predictably this news has brought out the worse in everyone. There's the backstabber crew, the squeaky wheel crew, the jump ship crew, and the lay low crew - I would be part of the lay low crew. I just want to sit here, do my job the best I can and wait to either get booted out on my ass or get annointed with jobsaver magic wand.
My plans to just lay low however are being thwarted by the giant prick in my department. He's a backstabber. He's been running around poking people with his little switch-blade for awhile now, he finally made it around to me. I hate that type of stuff. I don't come to work to play school yard games. I come to work to do my job and make money so I can buy Oreos and big screen TV's, I could care less about that other crap. But he poked me with his little butter knife, and I couldn't just ignore that. Pity for him that Slacker is a quiet one. You should always look out for the quiet ones. So when prick-boy jabbed me with his butter knife, I slashed him with my machete. Pfffft! Now widdle 'ems is all sad and trying to make nice with Slacker. Pffft! Too late.
These next few tips are for those who are considering taking a swipe at the quiet person in the corner office. Consider:
He has that position because he's good at his job, and he's the "go to" person for that particular thing. Thus, if push came to shove, he'll stay - you'll go.
Because he's quiet and office politics free, people tend to tell him things - all sorts of things. Thus, if push came to shove, he may use one of those little nuggets he knows about you.
He's organized. He's kept every email correspondence he's had with you. Thus, if push came to shove, your word is no good against his saved email with your written word in it.
He's smart. He never puts in an email anything he wouldn't want his boss to read. Thus, if push came to shove, you couldn't scrape up a single byte of dirt on him.
He's not two-faced. He won't stab you on Monday and then smile in your face on Tuesday. Once you make him take out his weapon, he'll keep stabbing you until his arm falls off. Thus, if push came to shove, you will either get fired, have to quiet, or transfer to a different department just to get away.
I really resent being made to behave this way, but DJ pricky-prick asked for it - so I'll give it to him. Maybe I'll lay off after this week 'cause all this work politics stuff is seriously cutting into my Gems game time.
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