Random thoughts and questions

All together now: D'awwwwwwwww.

Note: does not refer to Cinnabon in any way, though I'm sure everyone mentioned in the article would be down with some.

That is adorable and makes me very happy.

Holy fucking science, that's some seriously impressive body modding.

I sat that over the weekend, such a cool story. The more of this stuff that hits the mainstream, the better.

Cute couple. They look really happy together.

jeans are jerks.
they are the clothing equivalent of "you thought you was hot shit huh you ain't nothin".

stupid jeans.

Not that I would ever question the Daily Mail (lol), but I do find it odd that two kids from Tulsa, Oklahoma would both refer to their mothers as "mum" in direct quotes.

They could have talked on the phone? I bet they didn't audibly pronounce that grammatically incorrect apostrophe either.

How the hell did I manage to get snot on my glasses when I just sneezed?

I can't even begin to tell you how much I love that. :D

I don't know how to feel.

On the one hand, awesome story!

On the other hand, it's still the Daily Mail...

I didn't realise it was the Daily Mail and am actively annoyed at myself for clicking it. For however nice the story is I'm sure the mail will be along with something hateful any minute now.

The Daily Mail is a UK magazine(newspaper? Rag?). I'm sure the kids spell it "mom", but the Daily Mail doesn't.
Also, yes, that is a bloody awesome story.

I don't know what The Daily Mail is, actually (beyond journalism of some type) - I found that story off a news aggregate.

They're like the Fox News of UK newspapers.

When they (the Daily Mail specifically) typically feature articles like this it's usually less to spread awareness and more to attract gawkers.

Generally they're not as subtle as Fox. Especially when it comes to hating immigrants, Europe and not-normal people. Or when it comes to leering at women between the ages of 16 and 30. After that they simply tell them they're too old.

I wouldn't be surprised if they're posting this to offset an article they have lined up for a few weeks or months. Maybe they're about to out a celebrity going out with a transgender person. Although they might not even have something lined up, and are just loading up the goodwill bank.

I have a box of three day old chocolate glazed Timbits at my desk. To eat them or not to eat them, that is the question.

One of our outside sales reps in India sent everyone an e-card wishing them a happy Diwali.

I am now trying to explain Diwali to coworkers.

Me: "Diwali's a harvest celebration that covers a bunch of stuff. The big one is the slaying of a demon by Krisha's wife."
CW: "Who?"
Me: "Krishna."
CW: "Like in the airport?"
Me: "Uh. They take their name from him, but no, not like a guy in the airport. He's an avatar of Vishnu."
CW: "Like in the movies?"
Me: "No. Not at all."
CW: "I didn't see those movies."
Me: "There was only one."
CW: "Was it good?"
Me: "Anyway, his wife, Satabama*, killed the demon Narakasura. It's also important for a bunch of other reasons to different people, but that's the biggie. It's all about the triumph of right over wrong as a parable for the inner-light."
CW: "I don't understand."
Me: "Imagine Godzilla is destroying New York."
CW: "Like in the movies?"
Me: "Sure. Now Wonder Woman defeats him!"
CW: "That's good."
Me: "And then we make it a national holiday."
CW: "That's stupid. Indians believe in some dumb stuff."

Which is when I choke down my 'in a month we will be taking two days off because Darth God manipulated the midichlorians and Anakin Christ was born to a virgin in a manger on Tatooine'.

Two minutes after I give up explaining to CW#1, CW#2 reads her email and shouts, "WHAT THE HECK IS DAWALLA?!" (To which I replied "They sang the song 'Counting Blue Cars'.")

*Satyabhama. I got this wrong whilst speaking aloud. Sorry, Big S.

Edit: Now that I think about it, Krishna and the avatars in the movie are both blue. So I guess I wasn't entirely correct.

Asking whether or not you should eat Timbits is like when someone asks you if you are a god: you say YES.

It's always easiest to explain to people like that in this way: "It's India's Christmas!"

(I know, it makes for a less cool story, but it's also less effort.)

I tried that when our Israeli sales rep sent us greetings for Rosh Hashanah. The response to "It's Israel's Christmas!" was "Why don't they celebrate real Christmas?"

I should just say 'I DONNO WHAT THAT IS IT SHUR DUZ SOUND CA-RAZY!'

Where the hell do you work that people are so ignorant?

I mean, I don't expect people to know Diwali - I didn't - just to be vaguely aware of other cultures having other holidays.

The answer to that, and so many other disappointing questions is: 'MURICA FUCK YEAH.

Yeah, you need to remember that a good portion of Murricans parse "cultures that are not White American" as "cultures that are not White American yet."

I started tacking on "War On" everytime I say "Christmas" as a joke - as in "Wow, only a few more shopping weeks until the War On Christmas!" - and now I totally can't stop doing it. That's gonna get me in some trouble, for sure.

IVF treatments can be so very disheartening. It's been two years now that I've started with them and there's always complications. if it's not the treatments that get cancelled because I'm reacting badly to the medication, then it's the implantations that don't work or it's the fertilized eggs that don't survive the thawing. :( but at least a good thing I have is that I get bored pretty quickly with myself when I'm like this, so, I'm going out for a cheese fondue :) because as the swiss-germans say: "Fondu isch guet und git e gueti Lune!!" ('fondue is good and gives a good mood.').

So, my boss knows I'm leaving now.

The next few weeks will be awkward...

Speaking of bosses and awkward, my boss called in sick today because he couldn't get his pants on.

To be fair, Friday he went in for surgery to remove a few shards of shrapnel that had been in his hip since 1967. They were small enough initially to not pose any risk, but in the last year he'd lost a significant amount of weight and apparently the shrapnel migrated close to the sciatic nerve and started causing all sorts of problems. So he calls in with "My wife's on a business trip and I can't get my pants over my ass without falling over. I think I'm going to take another day off until she gets back and can dress me."

I once left a job which had some serious awkward issues: Our department was being integrated into the mainframe group, downstairs. We all made jokes that last month about how the next version of the website would have a black background with only green text and no images. So, I managed to find new work, and I gave my notice.

My boss told me I didn't have to come in those last few days, so I cleaned out my desk and said my goodbyes. I'm home for a few days before my new job starts up, and then I get this phone call: It's from HR at my old job. They tell me that I'm supposed to be in at work for my exit interview. If I'm not there, they're not going to pay out my last paycheck, as I wasn't officially there...and I can't take a vacation day.

So, I take the train into work, and show up for that last day. Lots of questions from people on the same floor, but eventually the curiosity dies down and I just sit at my desk surfing the web.

Then, the head of the mainframe department comes over, a real bull of a guy, and grabs me up to brief me on the department transition. He takes me down to the office, talking all the time. I literally couldn't get in a word edgewise to say: "Hey, this is my last day." He started saying some pretty dickish things about my former co-workers, so I decided to stay quiet for a little bit. I sit down in the chair he provides when we get to his office, and he starts talking about his plans. I finally just interrupt and say: "Hey, I know you've got a lot more to talk about, but I just wanted you to know that I've found other work and this is my last day."

I may or may not have said something disparaging about how the mainframe department was a relic of the Jurassic period. I'll never tell.

They eventually let me go early. It was too early for the express train back home, so I spent some time at Grand Central at the bookstore and the little deli before making my way back home.

To put it in Star Trek terms, if this office is the Enterprise, I'm Geordi La Forge (with better vision). Started out in a minor role out front, but became increasingly important over time, and am now the go-to guy for virtually every technical issue in the place.

Geordi's not supposed to resign his commission.

A customer in (unspecified Asian country with an EXTREMELY STRONG tradition of speaking English) sent me an email indicating that he had received approval for the contract I had issued him some time ago.

It began:

"finarlly I did it!"

Sometimes I just don't even.

Somewhere in America, a brown child is being asked to explain Diwali to their classroom. They are Muslim. #happydiwali

— Hari Kondabolu (@harikondabolu) November 13, 2012

I burst into tears on my line manager today. He was trying to figure out why I was struggling with keeping on top of things. He kept talking about removing parts of my workload and I kept saying how it wasn't that and eventually I burst into tears and confessed that it was because I didn't think I was good enough. Bless him, he blamed himself for not offering enough praise. No, it's just my head being messed up.
He'd make a good therapist, I've been bottling that up for a while.

I'm tempted to bullshit up a persona for a Forbes Contributor account so that I can more effectively troll humanity.

This has happened to me a few times. At heart I'm an old chauvinist, so women crying freak me out and I'd jump off a cliff to make them stop. I've learned that nine out of ten times the right procedure is to give her a hug* and tell her it's fine and she's doing a great job. Of course, the tenth time she'll think I'm trying to take advantage of her and slap me with a sexual harassment complaint, or a rape charge. So I always end up handing them a Kleenex at arms length and trying to look sympathetic while my brain is desperately searching for a cliff to jump off so the crying will stop.

*) An actual hug, not cup a feel.

Hang in there, my wife and I are doing the same thing. It's really hard on her. We've had to cancel the first round of meds because she was reacting well to them. I wish I could do more for her. (I did let her renovate our kitchen, which helped distract her for a bit, but now there are no more cabinets to be chosen, so she's trying to find something else)