Something there is which doesn't like walls. I think that was Frost, but I'm loathe to give him any credit for something that, well, hard-hitting.
'nyway.
Winblows and I have reached an agreement. It agrees to run the way I tell it to and stop prompting me with INANE BULLSHIT so I can go on and do some real work, and I agree to stop hurling the hard-drive it's stitting on around the second floor of our building.
But we did end up having quite a lively football game with it. Uhm, american football that is. Not "footy".
Or "baby-foot". I heard someone say that today. He meant fooz-ball.
Some guy with a thick Marseilles accent and I launched into a profound analysis of why people take accents so seriously. WE're both bitter that we can't manage the quebecois drawl. Then again, Cobalt seems to think I have one so I'm *really* lost.
At least it's the bits that don't matter that have me confused, right?
Who was it that said again that the little stuff doesn't matter?
Of course it matters. It just shouldn't hurt. Or something.
"Don't sweat the small stuff"
"It's all small stuff"
"So we should just be enjoying the small stuff"
'What about the big stuff?"
"What big stuff?"
"Y'know, the, uhm, BIIIG stuff."
"I don't believe in god, so why big stuff?"
"Beer? Yeah, beer."
___ ___ ___
The homophobe discussion has turned into something a little too cryptic for me to entirely fathom. I'm not sure what he's getting at or really what he wants, now he's on some "you're smarter than you want people to think you are" kick and I'm taking no chances and assuming he's trying to catch me off-guard.
That, and I seem to get cocky far too easily these days and the LAST thing I need is something like Winblows up and knocking me over cuz I wasn't paying attention.
Hey, guess what, I make 11k a year more than dude that I share an office with. (we were trying to figure out where half my paycheck goes into taxes when he exclaimed that) Massimo seems to think I deserve it, I'm just hoping I eventually *do* end up earning it, rather than just impressing the fuck out of everyone. Here I thought I was earning the base salary of a really generous company. Instead, let's just pile on a little more pressure, hey, maybe it'll take me somewhere...
Really, I just want to implement something incredible. Fabrice (brown-noser extraordinaire who manages to stink more of cigarettes than any of the other smokers) was in here asking me about yesterday's meeting. Peter already warned me abotu it, tho. HAH. I was ready. I stood my ground with Peter and we both essentially told him what we're interested in, and that it doesn't involve porting all the VB-script in C.
Yeeesh.
'nyway, I gotta run. Sushi for lunch and now I'm having it for dinner, then the Legendary Pink Dots Concert and I get to see Val again! and then...
EQ and clownage this weekend.
Who needs sleep anyway? Not I. I cabbed it to work this morning to get that extra half hour in. The cabbie turned out real nice. And lost. Oh well...
I can't tell if I'm lonely because my coffee's run out and I'm tired, or because I've been discussing love and the philosophy of the uber-person with too many people and it reminds me just how way out there I am, or because I simply haven't had a hug in too long.
Well, I'm meeting Shammy in an hour, outta know by then. ;)