Pimp sleepwalking

I love my workplace.  I talk about playing racist volleyball and using pimp sticks and no one bats an eye. 
...

As I have done most of my life, I spent last night out playing at the CNE until late instead of doing "responsible things" and upon returning home after midnight, was faced with the task of having to pack and prepare myself for the next three days of volleyball tourney that I had in front of me.  And also, as I have done most of my life, I had not planned far enough ahead to have my favourite gear and clothing ready and washed to pack for this weekend. 

Some time after 1am, I threw a half-load of the things I absolutely needed into the wash and convinced myself that I could go to bed for a bit because I'd definitely hear the "I'm finished" alarm on the washing machine.  The plan was that I would then get up and throw the clothes into the dryer before going back to bed so that everything would be clean and dry and waiting to be thrown into my bags in the morning during my dash out the door to work. 

So this morning.

First of all, I slept later than I should have.  When I woke, I realized I couldn't remember falling asleep.  And then I realized I couldn't remember getting up and then going back to sleep.  Crud.  And yet.  When I walked down to the laundry room, not only did I find that I'd managed to get the load into the dryer (WITH a dryer sheet), I had somehow had the sense about me to hang up my incredibly-shrinking-dress to line dry as well as Malcolm's dress shirt.  Amazing.

After seeing all of the things as I'd apparently left them the night, I could vaguely recall being down in the laundry room in a ridiculous stupor, however, to save myself the strain of trying to recall details, I'm happy enough to believe that the house elves did it for me.  Or the bats.

My morning laugh

Monday at the office with a day off tomorrow to spend with Boo.  I threw my nose to the grindstone and initiated the plan of working tirelessly today to complete 3 projects and 2 mailings so that being off tomorrow, I could frolick guiltlessly. The plan was working great until I was (pleasantly) distracted by the following email from Brodder to my parents that he CC'ed me on...probably because he knew it'd amuse me so much:

Spectacular.  I can't say he can completely blame autocorrect on this one. 

Shoot for the moon

At 10:22 am today, the moon was still out according to the Star website. 

I am a little underwhelmed today at work.

Let them laugh

If you can't laugh with them, then that will leave them to laugh at you. I think it's incredibly healthy (and incredibly cool) to have a sense of humour and the ability to laugh at yourself.

The topic came up today as we debated whether or not our colleague was going to laugh at the fact that we'd spent 30 minutes "making her desk a safer place" while she was away at a health and safety conference this afternoon. While it seemed that those who knew her better thought she'd be less than pleased, I thought it had to be worth a laugh. At least a smile. My justification was that if somebody had done something like that to my desk, that meant that they spent 30 whole minutes completely focused on ME.

But then, that IS me and I'm really good at--as well as very fond of--laughing WITH people.

So is my Roomie, as this old photo evidence of my handiwork at her desk while she was on vacation will prove. Although, in that case, I took a moment to giggle (okay, laugh) AT her as well. I also spent the following week guarding my desk very, very closely.

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Update - August 16, 2012, 9:02 am

She laughed!  But she also took names...  :)

Ahead

Today has been an incredibly slow day at work. I’ve been replying to my emails immediately in realtime and have managed to keep my inbox empty all day. All of my writing assignments have been written and are awaiting review or translation by other parties. My one conference call for today was cancelled just as I was dialing into the call.

I am ahead of the game.

Sweet.

Internally uninitiated

I have a summer intern as my cubicle-mate. He’s excruciatingly young and the fact that he’s got SUCH a baby face look to him doesn’t help at all. While I have to give him credit for knowing his business stuff (and hip-hop/rap history, juxtaposedly enough) his lack of knowledge elsewhere just kills me, reminding me just how old mature I am, and how sheltered he is.

City Vocabulary
Having been raised and reared in the distant suburb of Vaughan, the Intern is not very familiar with Toronto streets, places, or pronunciations.

   “Hey, Intern, where’s the Frank Ocean concert tonight?”
   “Oh yeah, I’m so pumped! It’s at the ‘Cool Hoss.’”
   “The what…where? You mean at ‘Kool Haus.’”
   “No, it says it’s…”
   “Trust me, Intern, it’s ‘Kool Haus.’”
   “Oh.”

Later that same day, he also learned that he was meeting his friends on “Queen’s Quay,” not “Queen’s Kway.”

Life Vocabulary
Then, on Friday after the sign-up sheet was posted, Intern finally learned what those regular family gatherings for dinners were called by others.

   “So, Intern, when your family gets together and everyone brings a dish to share, what do you call that?”
   “A family dinner. I’ve never called it a ‘pot-luck’ before today.”

Poor boy.

Keyboard etymology
Finally, while making review comments on a document regarding formatting, Intern kept making notes to “delete the extra enters.” A few more comments later, I realized he meant to delete the extra “hard returns.” I called over the cube wall to verify with him that that was what he meant. He called back,

   “What’s a hard return?”

Oh man.