Stop the train wanna get off oh wait I'm not on a train I'm in the server room quietly going about forcing linux down the throat of a laptop that doesn't like it.
Like I was at 9am this morning before Philippe ran in saying "They're here! Where's Peter?"
So here's the deal. Patrice, left last night for Martinique. Peter, who himself told me not to be late for the 10am meeting today showed up at, well, quarter to.
Which turned out to be 45 minutes late so it was Philippe, Gilles (some brilliant fucker who kept saying vachement and I had such a hard time not laughing - at first) and two american dudes from, well, the US, and Fabrice the new fucker who smells bad and still insists on standing too close and baring his horrible teeth at me, and...
Me.
So guess who got to start the meeting with...
The marketing developpment standardization people or somesuch.
They kept calling me mademoiselle and nodding at whatever I said and asking questions and that "Joe, Joe Murray" guy's eyes lit up when I mentioned preferring unices of the Berkeley variety just cuz I seem to be getting mroe used to them and that I thought that if we were going to implement an index-oriented filesystem on a smartcard rather than the copious memory hog that their current fixed-length scheme...
Anwyay. I can't believe half that shit came out of my mouth today, aaaaaaaand, I can't believe the meeting lasted until 3:30. They brought us some fancy lunch and the "assistant" kept coming by asking if we needed anything and we just did the ol' grind grind grind dance...
With Peter sitting there looking attentive, Fabrice laughing at all of Gilles' jokes just cuz Gilles is the big important guy, Philippe talking a mile a minute and me trying to keep up and make suggestions...
And stupid me opened my big mouth and asked about "but I thought the reason it was implemented that way was for security" and they said "what end-user knows anything abotu security?" and I said "well now that y2k is over they need a new reason to fear the machine..."
Aaaaaaaanyway. My brain hurts. Ten million thoughts have flown, about clowns and volleyball yesterday and Massimo and Frank spreading the rumour that I'm brilliant and alllllll that shite and and and....
Gonegonegonegone. Mybrain hurts. Christian is still lecturing me abotu how it's sad to see a good girl like me go bad(with regards to the alternative sexuality discussion) and I accused him of only saying that because it slims the chances of him getting laid and whaddya know he agreed but he's stillllllll going on about the "purpose" of man and relationships and he mentioned god this time and all I could say was "call me if you want to finish this cuz I gotta go linux me a laptop..."
Why am I talking to this guy?
Oh yeah. He's a hottie. Just goes to show...
No more prettiness in my life. Today I've decided that the first epiphany I had in elementary school abotu anyone who concentrates on beauty is empty inside.
Screw the renaissance-man perfect person shite.
I don't have the energy left to be much more than an anti-aesthete today.
*grin*
Nevermind. I'll go back to pining abotu perfect with yous guys tommorrah.
I ain't givin' up yet. ;)