I worked about 2hrs longer at my contracting job than I wanted to because some people couldn't get me the inventory I asked for four weeks ago. I wound up having to cross check four different sources, none of which agreed. That meant I had to catalog the differences and send them over so someone could tell me which items are supposed to be on the list and which aren't. That took all the hours I had planned on working today plus an extra two hours.
My only consolation is that I got to charge these suckers per hour. You make me do more work, you're going to have to pay for it.
Miome and I were discussing hoop skirts and I brought up that one comic where men keep asking ladies at a ball to dance and the ladies
keep pretending they can't hear them because their skirts are so big that the men are too far from them.
Miome replied with this:
Mr. Butler kept trying to ask me to dance, but my hoop skirt was dummy thicc and I couldn't hear him over the sound of my crinolines rustling.
This is why I married her.
So at work they are obviously changing vending machine vendors. How do I know? I went into work on Wednesday and saw the following signs.
"Tired of items being out of stock in the vending machines? So are we. We're getting a new vendor in. These machines will be picked up on Thursday and new machines delivered on Monday. Sorry for the inconvenience."
The thing is, those signs were still up when the old machines were picked up. Meaning the guys from the old vendor saw them.
Damn son. Facilities at my place does not mess around when it comes to their soft drinks and candy bars.
It is over 100 degrees (F) outside.
There is no way I am going to yoga tonight. Not when the AC has been finicky at best and barely a breeze at worse. Not going to do it.
Today at work I named a folder I was making "New Hampshite" instead of "New Hampshire" and didn't noticed till four hours later when I went to add some data to a map. And honestly? That's just how this week has been going.
I like afternoon teas. I like afternoon teas so much that my wife and I regularly go to an Afternoon Tea in different cities whenever we travel. I'm also curious about old menu/recipe books (like from the late 1800's to early 1900's). Sometimes I find absolute gems like the old church cookbook from the 1910's where every desert recipes contained copious amounts of alcohol. I mean copious. Brandy, sherry, and bourbon were measured in cups.
I think I have found another gem.
I present to you, from the early 1900's, a book full of "Every Day Menus" which includes a menu and place settings for what they are calling a "Russian Tea." The very first thing it says on the menu? Vodka. Obviously you are supposed to put a decanter of vodka on the table and pour everyone a glass of it (oh sorry, the gentleman get a glass of vodka while the ladies get a cup of vodka). No silverware. Everything is eaten with your fingers.
This sounds like it would be an amazingly fun tea.
Having to read and annotate 100 pages of gov't bureaucratic bullshit that touches on your field of expertise but was written by people who attended a talk once about what you do so that makes them experts should be its own special level of hell.
I love the fact that even with a cutting wheel, a ruler, and a mat with measurements on it, I still can't cut fabric in a straight line.
And when I say "love" I mean "AM RIGHTEOUSLY FURIOUS AT."