Friday, March 30, 2007

Friday's Are Full of Awesome

7:35 AM

Show up for work late.
For the second day in a row.
Maybe I shouldn't try and catch up on tivo'd shows in the morning.

7:40 AM

Grab a cup of coffee.
Open outlook.
Revel in the fact that today is MUTHA EFFIN FRIDAY!

7:45 AM

An outlook meeting reminder pops up.
For an 8 o'clock conference call.
That I completely forgot about. Bleagh.

8:00 AM

Try and connect to the conference call several times.
My phone doesn't work. Two other phones don't work. WTF?
It's potty mouth time.

8:05 AM

Check outlook again and see everyone else is having trouble connecting.
Get a new number to dial.
It works! Yay!

8:21 AM

The guy who's supposed to be running the call finally joins in.
People start talking about stuff that doesn't make any sense.
Why are we talking about stuff we've talked about a gabillion times before?

9:07 AM

The call finally ends. All the work that we (i.e. Super Co-Worker ZackJack) did validating data was a waste of time. Because that data was apparently crap. So they're re-downloading our data - hopefully in an un-crap-afied manner - and resending it overseas to those Overseas Data People, who will then compile it into files to be sent back to us to peruse and decipher and validate.

And do you wanna know when they want a final "OK!" from us? Today! Last time we had several days to go over it. Now we have several hours. If that. Which, okay, is fine, because there should be less to go over. If we ever get the damn files. Someone on the call said they'd update us every thirty minutes on that status of the new files.

9:35 AM

The first email update is sent out.
"The files haven't dropped yet."
Are we birthing them?

10:56 AM

The second email update is sent out.
The files have been updated from our site and sent to Those People.
We're still waiting for the files to come back.
And the bunnies frolicked in the fields in rapturous majesty.

11:19 AM

I translated a lyric for Mr. Desk Neighbor.
ME: They're singing 'I want to get to you and that booty.'
DN: Ohhhh.
ME: 'I want to get to you and that monkey.'
DN: ...
ME: Monkey? What the hell does that mean anyway?
After much laughing Mr. DN pointed... er... downwards.

11:37 AM

Chow down on awesome graham cracker cereal for lunch.
Sippin' on the Juicy Juice.
Play with the squirrels.

11:54 AM

The third email update: "Still waiting on the files."
Poor east coast guys.
They might have to work late, or work Saturday, to finalize the files.
If we ever get them.

1:37 PM

Hmmmm... when they said they'd update us every 30 minutes I laughed.
Every 30 minutes? Really? Will there be that many?
Apparently there will be.
So many, in fact, that they're skipping a few to conserve email bandwidth or something.

There's been no update since noon.
I feel so lost without them.

1:47 PM

Oooh! Ooooh! Another status email update!
All files but one have been uploaded!
Weeeeee! Time to validate data!
And the chipmunks dance merrily in fields of rainbows.

[ The Awesome Friday isn't over yet, but I'm posting this now because odds are something CATASTROPHIC will happen right before I need to leave for the day which means I'll be running around like a headless chicken and have no time to finish it, and no foresight to email this to myself to finish it at home. I guess I could email it now... but that would make too much sense now wouldn't it. ]

Tuesday, March 27, 2007

Certifiably Me

You know how when you were little, and in grade school, and your teacher licked his/her finger when counting out pages of paper to pass out to each row of students? Do you remember how gross that was?

Ewwwwww! Teacher spit on my paper! I can't touch it! I can't! Accccckkkkk!

Well, I remember.

And you know what? I lick paper all the time now.

All. The. Time.

Who knew it was such a normal adult thing to do. Certainly not me, back in the day. The good old days when teacher spit was toxic.

It's hard to think of myself as an adult sometimes. I mean, to me, I'm the same person I was back in high school. Yeah, I'm fatter and slower and more wise to the world than I was back then. But I still feel... I don't know. I kind of feel like I'm that same person. Or at least the early-college-barely-20 me. I've had new experiences, grown up a bit, raised a hamster... I'm more me than I was back then. More me than I knew was in me to be. If that makes sense.

And yet I don't feel like its been ten years since I was in high school, hanging out behind the Spanish building eating lunch with my girlfriends and their boyfriends. Sometimes it's a little jolt to realize that I'm someone different now. And no, I don't constantly live in that time, reminiscing about nothing else. I guess I just need to adjust my frame of reference. Get it more up to date.

This summer is my high school class's 10 year reunion. That's almost more unbelievable than my upcoming 28th birthday. I was freaking mystified when I turned 27. I don't know how to feel about 28 yet.

It's not that I feel I'm getting old. Because 28 isn't old. It never seemed like an old age to be when I was young. It was just... different. It's not that people in their late-20's/30's/etc are old, its that they're different than me. They're something I'll become way, waaaaaaaaay in the future.

And holy crap that future is now. Because I'm in my late 20's.

When I was little, I idolized the big kids on my swim team. They were so cool. I used to follow them around whenever they would let me. One girl in particular. She was a backstroke superstar and when she took time out to show me some tricks I almost melted into the water in joy overload. And then I became one of The Big Kids. I remember once wondering, 'do any of these little kids look at me the same way?' And I realized I'd advanced into that next 'age group'.

I guess that's probably what's at the core of it all. I should be/feel/act differently now that I'm in this other group. I mean, I do to some extent... just not enough apparently. I'm no longer the little girl looking up at these people, admiring them, idolizing, etc. I'm one of those people.

A grownup.

Wait... let me rephrase that...

A grownup?

Legally I'm an adult. That happened when I turned 18.

When the hell did I become a grownup?!?!

Well, I lick my fingers when I sort through papers.

I have for a long time now.

So I guess it's official.

finger licking = certified adulthood

Wow, this started off as just a little reminiscence over teacher spit and look what it turned into. A few minutes ago I licked my finger, began rifling through a stack of papers on my desk and then WHAMO - an instantaneous flashback of my fifth grade teacher slobbering all over our handouts. So I started writing about it and then WHAMO - instantaneous introspection.

Monday, March 19, 2007

The Muse is A Flaky Whore! News at 11

I know I haven't written here in awhile. My bad. Same excuse as usual: I've been either busy doing school work (end-of-the-quarter-rush-a-thon) or busy doing work work (governor to declare my desk a disaster area! news at 11!) that I neglected to do while I was busy doing school work. Or I've been home (the computer-for-games-only zone).

Or I've been procrastinating with work-inspired art.

It won't make any sense, but this is some of the stuff I've been creating, then sending along in e-mails.

I have thought about blogging, but then felt immediately guilty for not doing what I should be doing.

Or I've been creating more work-art.

But Coworker Jack has requested a new post. Actually, he requested it awhile ago. But there was the guilt factor. And the Muse Is A Flaky Whore factor. I had nothing to write about really, other than the boring drivel I've been writing about lately. I'm usually highly amused by my own musings, but even those were on the verge of driving me crazy.

I thought about complaining about the 9 straight hours of training I was schedule for last week (only ended up being half that, with a huge break in the middle) but after I complained to co-workers and the HB I didn't feel like complaining here. I was just going to make something up, something that was more exciting than what's actually going on in the World Of Me, but... well, the Muse Is A Flaky Whore.

I was going to write about how cute the HB is. Had it all written up actually, on valentines day, but when I tried to post it the Internet Gods denied me access to blogger. So meh. I was going to post it later, when the Internet Gods realized their folly, but then the HB ticked me off, and I wasn't in the luvy-duvy posting mood. Now? He's on the road to being cute again. So maybe in the future there will be a luvy-duvy gooey post of HB adorableness.

But for now, until the Muse gets back in gear (which is hopefully soon since after I turn in my 10-pager in the next hour or so I'll be officially done with the current school quarter), I will share the following Office Conversation I had with Mr. Desk Neighbor while we were trying to 'one-up' each other.

Me: *slaving away at the computer in a very intensive-mouse-click-y exercise*
Mr. Desk Neighbor: Why can't you close the records all at once?
Me: I can't, I have to skip some. I have to close them in chunks.
Mr. DN: I remember chunks.
Me: ...
Mr. DN: I remember blowing chunks. [insert self-congratulator-chuckling here]
Me: Who's Chunks?