Ultranormal

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    I was going to write about this last night, but it would have been overly profane and who needs that on their conscience when I know at least my mother-in-law reads this stuff? The last episode of Once and Again aired last night on ABC. It was depressing and it ended poorly. The last episode didn’t measure up (how could it). I don’t know how I wanted it to end, just that it shouldn’t have. It was a great show, as I’ve said before. Oh well. That was the last show I paid attention to on ABC, and probably will be for a good long while. See ya later, Disney. I’ll miss the show, but that’s life. Maybe I’ll read a book.

    Crap segue….

    Yes, I know I didn’t write anything yesterday. I spent many hours on the phone with lawyers this weekend and many more hours working on Monday. Nope, still can’t talk about what this is all about, but it should happen soon. It’s exciting and frustrating to be working on something that will be so huge. People aren’t sleeping and that makes them crabby. They snap and bark and well, they’re no fun to be around. There are conference calls with many people, most of whom don’t understand what’s being said and are relegated to sighing into the phone and taking notes. I’ve been to so many meetings in the past week I’m about to go crazy. I hate meetings. I hate telling people what to do, why they need to do it that way and then having to explain it slower because they didn’t get it the first time.

    I want to work. I want to write code and make things cool and sustainable, maintainable, scalable, etc. I can’t do that in a conference room with a dozen people around a table deciding what not to call things. And on that note, I’m going to get to work…

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    April 16, 2002
  • Dude, I thought he was going to crap himself

    I came up with a great line in a meeting the other day. We were talking about bad news, of which I had dispensed a large amount that day. I decided then and there that I’m going to buy a box of Depends adult diapers and start bringing them to all my meetings. For severe bad news, I’ll galantly offer them to the recipient before I give them the news and helpfully offer, “You might want to put these on,” before I launch into the painful topic. It seems the charitable thing to do.

    Yes, that was a much better idea than my idea to start distributing a screen saver that would take processing power from people and use it to serve out http requests. I thought it was brilliant. It could end up being the world’s largest web server. I have no idea how it would work. It obviously wouldn’t work for serving out files since everyone would have to have the files on their machine, but for dynamic requests that are processor-intensive (like, ahem, searches) why not? It makes perfect sense to me.

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    April 14, 2002
  • My brother beat me to

    My brother beat me to it. He’s writing a children’s book that I’m going to host here as soon as he’s finished. I haven’t even read it yet, but I have seen some of the character paintings and they’re hilarious. I was going to use the ape to replace my spaceman below, but there’s just something about the spaceman that I can’t bear to part with.

    This week has been insane. I’ve been sick. I haven’t slept well. I started my new job on Monday while still sitting in my old cube. So, not only was I working at 50%, but I had to deal with all my old interruptions while trying to learn all the new ones. On top of that, I have three projects going on that require a lot of thought and I just can’t think straight with a fever, nausea and bowel flucuations. So, I’m going to write this week off and start over on Monday with three things that have to go to QA and two other projects breathing down my neck.

    I wanted a challenge… this is what I get for wishing.

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    April 12, 2002
  • Listen to the dog, y’all.

    Listen to the dog, y’all.

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    April 12, 2002
  • I am numb.

    I am numb. I spent too many hours in meetings fighting people, and now just want to go home, read Dr. Suess books to Max, kiss Jen and let my brain and voice recover from all the arguing and chest-thumping. I wish it wasn’t so hard, but sometimes it just is.

    Best line from today: “So, the TPD to QA ETA is still TBD?” No, I can’t/won’t explain it, but I love long strings of acronyms thrown together with no thought that someone might have a hard time doing on-the-fly expansion of those acronyms.

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    April 11, 2002
  • I have been in meetings

    I have been in meetings from 9am until now, and I have another one in ten minutes. How am I supposed to get any work done (or blogging or surfing) if I’m in meetings all day? It’s insane, I tell you, insane!!

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    April 11, 2002
  • It’s a TylenolPM night. Diphenhydramine

    It’s a TylenolPM night. Diphenhydramine take me away!

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    April 10, 2002
  • Boy do I want this

    Boy do I want this shirt, and this one, and this one.

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    April 10, 2002
  • More dogs should write poetry.

    More dogs should write poetry.

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    April 10, 2002
  • Dreams Remembered

    I don’t remember my dreams very often. When I do, they’re usually the kind that wake me up with a start and cold sweat. Monday night, I had a good dream that woke me up, I think because of the sheer weirdness of it. I remember going to sleep thinking in French, which is really hard since I only took three years of it in high school and then spoiled any chance of speaking it well by following that up with a year of Spanish. I get verbs mixed up, and frequently throw in franpanglish when I can’t remember the word for shoes (in Spanish it’s zapatos, but for the life of me I can’t remember the French word). Towards the end of my classroom French, I started having French dreams where everyone spoke French and I had an amazing accent. I haven’t had a French dream in years.

    Then came Monday night. I was a New York tourist shop owner. I was standing behind the counter in my I ::heart:: NY t-shirt polishing snow globes with the Statue of Liberty in them when a Japanese couple walk in with a map and thirty cameras strapped to them, speaking rapidly and stabbing their fingers at a map. They looked at me and started speaking Japanese much more slowly, as if that would make me understand. I laughed and asked them if they spoke English. They shook their heads and I started wondering if I was ever going to be able to help these poor short people (in my dream either I was very tall or they were very short – yes, in my dreams, all the stereotypes are true. It’s not my fault, I swear). Then, I remembered, I speak French. So, I asked them if they spoke French (in French of course – even in my dreams, I’m not an idiot). Voila! They do!! So, I tried to remember if gauche was left or right and vice versa for adroit. We apparently figured it out with hand signals and waving. I hopped over the counter, grabbed the map, led them out the door, flipped my sign to closed, locked the door, pulled down the big metal gate over the windows and door and we were off. We spoke broken japecais and franglais and laughed at our mispronunciation and lack of vocabulary as we went all over town taking pictures and seeing the sites.

    I don’t remember the end of the dream: what happened to wake me up, or why I woke up. I was proud of helping those little tourists. I was proud that I remembered my language skills and put them to use for the good of mankind. I’m just amazed I remembered the dream. I never remember dreams. What does this mean?

    And yes, I still don’t feel well. Maybe it was a Robitussin dream…

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    April 10, 2002
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Ultranormal

100% AI-free half-assed writing hand crafted by Kevin Lawver about programming, life, cooking and random nonsense.

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