Friday, November 16, 2012

I love my coworkers

We use Skype for communication at work. The following took place in the "free-for-all" sort of chat. Names changed (using names from How I Met Your Mother because why not) to protect the guilty. :)

Okay. I like me some coffeescript:

thanks for that perl of wisdom

this is some interesting Smalltalk

Let's C where it goes

HOPEfully no one bashes these puns

They're pretty Groovy

oh R they?

A rare Perl, I say

these puns are way too BASIC

This was just the Prolog. Let me sip some Cocoa while we discuss our Newspeak.

Stop bashing our puns

you just reused one lily....already getting JADEd

B cool. We're a kind Assembly here

I need more Java, probably

Some jokes are Magik

They help you FOCUS

How many puns do we have? If we can go to 20 it'll be a Mirahcle

it's like Mr. Rogers said:  Won't Ruby my neighbor.

He was Objective, C?

I'd love to see the SQL to that show

They really toned down the Scala, gave it a new Scheme. 

Yeah, he doesnt even talk to neighbors anymore, just the Squirrels. A lot of Squeaking.

They were going to include turtles, but the script didn't work with their shell. Something about the logo.

just watch out for an ASP.Nets are good for catching them.  

or even a python

or even a Cobra!

man don't make that snake the Pascal lamb of this conversation.  We have sacrificed enough here

should we stay, or should we Go

eh, either way I'm Flexible, can be out in a Flash.

at the sound of the shebang, everyone Go!

Spoken with a lisp

the hyundai COBOLt cars are kinda ugly

They have a bit of a SPARK

just stay sharp, ya C?

Well, it seems this discussion has reached a Clojure.

Conversations such as these are not uncommon. And everyone wins with puns.


Thursday, June 21, 2012

Coke Zero

The following story is one which I was going to make into bigger, shinier, post, but then I A) got super busy with work, and B) had a personal thing which just made me sad and a little self-hatey. So here it is, hopefully with funny enough words that you don't throw tomatoes at me.


A few weeks ago Kane and I took a weekend "adult" trip to Helen, GA while tiny human spent time with my parents and sister. Helen is this little Bavarian oasis in the middle of northern Georgia. But wursts, spaetzle, and lederhosen are not the focus of this story. No, this tale revolves around that most elusive of tokens, the MacGuffin that is a Coke Zero.

While Kane and I were seeing the sights, I was struck by the desire for a cool, refreshing beverage, a thirst which desperately needed to be quenched. And what would save me from a mildly annoying sense of thirst? Only a Coke Zero. We passed a shop which was selling bottles for $2, but my thrift said "No! Just wait until you get back to the hotel; you can get the same bottle for $1.25" I felt smart and economical. Little did I know how I would come to regret that supposed $.75 savings (side comment: I wish I had a key for the "cent" symbol. We have the $, why not the "c" + "|". Anyway).

We arrive back at our hotel, and I am thoroughly parched. We trek to the vending machine. I insert my dollar, early anticipating the refreshing calorie-free pleasure I'm about to experience. I go to insert the next dollar...and nothing. It doesn't even have the decency to do the 'spit the dollar out over and over again so you keep having to flatten it until it's crisper than when it came out of the mint' thing, which at least gives you a little hope. No, it just flat out refuses to acknowledge my offer unto the keeper of the liquid refreshment. Suddenly, ingenuity strikes me! Many vending machines, when you push the "gimme my money back, yo" button, return said money in coins. I will push the coin return, get quarters back, and use one of those with the dollar it's ignoring to get my delicious beverage. Brilliant! Except...the machine has taken my dollar hostage and will not negotiate terms for it's release.

Kane goes to the front office and they give us a dollar to offset the abducted one. Now...I will admit my next action was foolish, but the thirst was clearly affecting my thought processes. But...I decide that since I now have both a dollar and a quarter, I will surely be able to trick the soda beast into giving up its treasure. I insert the dollar, then go for the quarter...which spits back out the return slot. I try again, same result, but this time it falls under the machine. While retrieving it, I discover 2 other quarters left behind, possibly the last evidence of previous adventurers. I decide to give up on this machine, which of course now has two of my dollars.

Ah, but all is not lost!  This hotel has several floors, all of which proclaim "vending". Why didn't I think of this before? Well, probably because there were stairs, and I am lazy. I dash to the next floor, empowered by the knowledge that my quest surely soon be fruitful. I crest over the top of the stairs, and what visage is revealed to me? A Pepsi machine. It's Georgia...and there's a Pepsi machine. I silently curse the taunting tricks of a cruel fate. I trudge dejectedly back to the room, fearful the sweet-tart object of my desire will go unfulfilled. But then! Out of the corner of my eye, I see my change. The "suites" area of the hotel possesses a Coke machine! I traverse the parking lot - feeling my reserves empty in the hot Georgia sun. I cautiously feed in my dollar. It accepts. Then my takes that too! I'm going to get my drink. I select the Coke Zero...and the machine dashes my hopes in a single second. "SOLD OUT" it flashes at me...mocking me with every letter that scrolls across. It at least gives me my money back, softening the blow.

What can I do? At this point, the need, and it has become a need, for my quest to end in success has become all encompassing. I must possess a Coke Zero, or my world will never be right again. I decide to accept defeat, and walk meekly back to the shop, give them my $2, and hope they can't smell the failure surely emanating from my very core. I firm up my resolve, and begin the journey.

As I leave, I see it. The last bastion of hope. There is a Wendy's across from the hotel. My saving grace. I swagger, and it was a swagger, into the building, knowing soon I will have won my battle. I'm waiting in line to order, only a woman who had very particular lettuce desires standing between me and my boon. I glance at the menu, and my heart sinks. Wendy's does not serve Coke Zero. They serve Diet Coke. Coke Zero != (that's 'not equal' for any non-CS types) Diet Coke. One is calorie-free Coke magic. The other tastes like robot pee. I turn, about to make a run for the original shop, willing to give them even more than $2 just to not feel like I failed. But it's too late...the cashier summons me. It is here I will give the fight up. In that moment, the defeat overtakes me. Thoughts of soda are gone...I just need to soothe my beaten soul. So I do what anyone would do in my situation.

I order a frosty and fries, march back to our hotel, and sit on our balcony shame-eating frosty-coated french fries while relaxing by the river.

I sent this story to this blog's fabulous co-writer Stephani, and she responded that it was "the greatest story about America [she] had ever heard." I'm not sure how to feel about that. All I do know every time I've had a Coke Zero since then, it's always tasted just a little sweeter, and I give it just a little more appreciation.


Tuesday, April 24, 2012

Certified Master of Blue

Here begins the obligatory baby post!

When Michael was a'bakin' in the mommy oven, I read the books and the blogs and listened to all types of moms tell me 57 different "The one thing you need to remember"s. I attempted to prepare myself, but like everyone says, you really can't prepare. I mean...a living, breathing, kicking human is going to exit your person in a way that was described to me multiple times as "having a really intense poop", and then you have to take your poop baby home and take care of it. (Michael, if you ever read this, I'm sorry I just called you a poop baby. Though you did poop even before you were born. So thanks for leaving a mess. Now go clean your room, or take out the trash or something.) are my "The <how ever many I come up between now and when the hockey game is over> most important things you need to know about babies"

(Fair Warning: The follow post contains discussions about baby body fluids, because 83% of an infant's existence involves expelling...something. I shall try to not be overly graphic.)

1) Noises. Newborns make about 3 noises: Crying, burping, and unexpectedly loud (given their size) farts, which one or both adults in the relationship will then seize as an opportunity to blame their own on the baby. This is completely acceptable - use the excuse while he's too young to bust you. [Note: Because I have a "he", I'm probably just going to refer to the hypothetical baby has a "he". A lot of pregnancy books go back and forth between genders and it throws me off.]

After a couple months, they start making many new noises, ranging from the cute (laughing, cooing) to the annoying (whimpering, grunting) to the rather unexpected. Did you know babies growl? Because I totally didn't, and then one day Michael and are sitting on the couch and freaking Chewbacca starts wanting my attention. Another fun noise - screeching/squealing. Your baby will sound like a pterodactyl, and prefers to make this sound in the middle of restaurants. Though we did give Michael a jacket that gave him little dinosaur spikes, so maybe we were asking for that. Long story short - all those cute noises you expect from babies will be accompanied by Wookie growls and what I can only assume is dinosaur for "Hey look my toes are attached to me!" or possibly "Hold on, I need to shove my entire fist in my mouth". It's a little hard to tell with Michael's accent.

2) Fluids. Let's just knock this out now. Babies are, at their cores, little waste factories which defy physics. I will never understand how 6 oz of milk becomes approximately 1 gallon of baby vomit. That being quickly find yourself not even noticing. It will all get everywhere. I was washing my face once, and realized I had spit up on my ear. Couldn't even tell you where it came from, though I am assuming it came from a baby - hopefully mine.

I'm not going to dwell too much on this, but I will leave you with this advice. Never, EVER position yourself at the south end of a baby when changing a diaper. Kane chose...poorly, once.

3) Socks. No sock designed for babies EVER stayed on their feet. Babies also seem to have extremely cold feet, so you worry that if their socks come off their toes will soon follow. So you carefully pull on socks, look away for 2.2 seconds, and then he's got both socks off and is intensely focused on shoving them both into his mouth. Repeat 17 times, or until you decide you're just not going outside that day.

3.5) Baby clothes in general. Your chances of correctly snapping the snaps on a sleeper is about 23%. I think whoever tested those things did so on a baby doll, not a squirming, flailing mass of human. Surely a baby was available for proper testing. Or if not a baby, perhaps a small dog. Anyway, just accept that baby clothes are impossible to do correctly and don't think it's a person failing on your part.

4) Baby spit. I know I mentioned fluids up there, but drool/spit deserves special mention. A baby produces approximately 4 times his volume in drool every day. And it will also end up everywhere. Babies are just generally moist. Which means everything babies touch, including you, gets a light layer of saliva. Unfortunately, you cannot scotch guard your baby.

And once the teeth start making their heralded entrance, the drool starts flowing and he chews on everything. And I mean everything. Toys, sleeves, parents, hampers, the couch...if he can touch it, he will either chew it or attempt to, giving your whole house a nice dusting of baby spit. I think it's how a baby marks his territory - the old "I licked it and now it's mine" ploy.

5) Day Care. Having to deal with day care is possibly the most socially stressful experience I've ever had, and in high school I accidentally confessed a giant crush to half a lunchroom once. Thankfully, I don't typically have to do too much interacting at the day care because Kane is AWESOME and does most of the drop offs/pick ups. But when he needs me to go, I go.

Just getting into the parking lot is an epic journey. It's a small lot, and everyone is converging at the same time, so you've got to fight for a space. While you're trying to navigate this maze of cars, remember you're at a day care, meaning at any minute tiny humans can leap out from behind cars or out of trees or under rocks or wherever kids hang out these days and try to ruin your day. So you navigate the maze and dodge the wayward children.

Now you've got to get inside, which during drop-offs is yet another quest in itself. First, remove car seat with baby attached. Collect bag containing bottles, extra clothes, and any refills for diapers/wipes/whatever. Carry bag and car seat to door, keeping a hand free to type in the security code for the front door. Sign in child and head toward infant room. Stop to cover shoes with those little blue booties. Open deceptively heavy door while remaining balanced carrying stuff. Hand off supplies, extricate baby from car seat, make awkward small talk, and hopefully make a clean break. Repeat reverse in afternoon.

All this is compounded by the fact that everyone who works there is very perky. And I am so very awkward. I can't interact with perky without sounding like I only just learned English after having been raised with the raccoons out in the woods. Michael's teachers are excitedly telling me about he "learned" the colors today, or had a good time playing with his friends, and I can only think "He's going to go home, attempt to eat at least 4 non-food items, smack himself in the face with a toy, and then fall over. But sure, he's totally a certified expert on blue now." Perhaps I am just not an excited enough mom, but it does seem a little silly at times, and I don't know how to express myself in the face of that.

So there are 5 (6 if you're pedantic or know how to count) things about babies that I didn't have quite a good handle on when little dude was about to come. I'm learning new things every day (did you know that babies can scream bloody murder without even waking up? Or that strained squash can travel a good 6 feet when thrown by a 7 month old?), so who knows what wonderful things I'll discover next.