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Thursday, March 30th, 2006 01:02 pm
in which insanity is just around the corner.
Thing One
About a month or so ago, I went to a training for PRF - prerequisitions. Clarify. Pre. Requisitions. There's this--*waves hand*--entire horror associated that I've tried to explain but can't, and yesterday, I committed the horror of putting an extra number on the origin code and my keyboard fingers briskly slapped. Anyway, my beloved stamper has been submitted, and so that means sometime in the next three-five years, it'll show up, possibly after I've already had a fit of insanity and started calling myself Bob.
It could totally happen.
Anyway, today did the computer glare filters, and started going through the Alphabetical List of Purchases, which contains all the codes the state of Texas comptroller uses for state agencies. This is a PRF field, to kind of put your thing in a coded category. I think.
Then I made a list of things I'd like.
Animal Parts - I just kind of want to see what they are. WHAT animal parts? The world will know when I order it.
Breakage Payments, Greyhound Racing - Hmm. I could use payments.
Bull Semen - I just think the look on everyone's face would be reward enough.
Cattle - the ones above 5,000 a head, not below
Helicopter (purchase) - my boss says if I can get it here, we can use it.
Mobile Home - for naps during lunch
Rodents - I need a pet to amuse me
Thimble - yes, this really does have its very own code.
Zipper - and so does this.
I really--you know, there are more insane categories, but most of them, I can kind of see how and why they developed since agriculture and oil were and in some places are such a huge part of the economy. It's just--a thimble category. That just does something weird to my head. My Dilbert calendar is so achingly accurate. Sometimes, I think I am talking to him. Usually, that means I should take a break.
Thing Two
The old file room that my unit was moved into is, in a shocking turn of events, as warm as an oven (and I somehow avoided so many bad jokes today) and so my boss told me to reserve the adjoining conference room for every second we can get it this week. Okay, problem is, it was reserved in blocks by other *people*. So I calmly and patiently made *eighteen reservations* in Outlook, and had the front desk call me to ask if I was having some psychotic break or planning a really bad coup.
I said no, I was trying to avoid my unit expiring of suffocation, and she said, right. So my cover is blown. Drats.
Thing Three
Okay, so yes, I had coffee this morning But it's not good coffee. Office coffee, like my cubicle, tastes wrong and redefines the concept of 'any caffeine anywhere I can get it', and while I am no coffee expert, when I'm twitching away from my drug of choice no matter how much sugar I pour in, you know something is wrong with the grinding process. I kind of want to take the big coffee machine and hide it, replace it with smaller, but far tastier, Mr Coffees that don't make it taste like we used wastewater for the base, you know? Or ooh, found a Starbucks next door. I don't get it. I fall over the damnable things everywhere but this street, and let me just say, I hate Starbucks so much it hurts me inside, but I could totally get behind them if my other choice is the worst. Coffee. Ever.
I need another cup now. Someone please rescue me. Or you know what? Tell me where there is epic h/c romance Sheppard/McKay, readable. Epic. H/C. Romance. Readable. With a nice, predictible formula, true love forever, and a satisfactory mansex ending. Fine me one and let me have it. I want romance and comfort and something to read while eating too much ice cream tonight and thinking, they are paying me to order bull semen and make imaginary meetings.
About a month or so ago, I went to a training for PRF - prerequisitions. Clarify. Pre. Requisitions. There's this--*waves hand*--entire horror associated that I've tried to explain but can't, and yesterday, I committed the horror of putting an extra number on the origin code and my keyboard fingers briskly slapped. Anyway, my beloved stamper has been submitted, and so that means sometime in the next three-five years, it'll show up, possibly after I've already had a fit of insanity and started calling myself Bob.
It could totally happen.
Anyway, today did the computer glare filters, and started going through the Alphabetical List of Purchases, which contains all the codes the state of Texas comptroller uses for state agencies. This is a PRF field, to kind of put your thing in a coded category. I think.
Then I made a list of things I'd like.
Animal Parts - I just kind of want to see what they are. WHAT animal parts? The world will know when I order it.
Breakage Payments, Greyhound Racing - Hmm. I could use payments.
Bull Semen - I just think the look on everyone's face would be reward enough.
Cattle - the ones above 5,000 a head, not below
Helicopter (purchase) - my boss says if I can get it here, we can use it.
Mobile Home - for naps during lunch
Rodents - I need a pet to amuse me
Thimble - yes, this really does have its very own code.
Zipper - and so does this.
I really--you know, there are more insane categories, but most of them, I can kind of see how and why they developed since agriculture and oil were and in some places are such a huge part of the economy. It's just--a thimble category. That just does something weird to my head. My Dilbert calendar is so achingly accurate. Sometimes, I think I am talking to him. Usually, that means I should take a break.
Thing Two
The old file room that my unit was moved into is, in a shocking turn of events, as warm as an oven (and I somehow avoided so many bad jokes today) and so my boss told me to reserve the adjoining conference room for every second we can get it this week. Okay, problem is, it was reserved in blocks by other *people*. So I calmly and patiently made *eighteen reservations* in Outlook, and had the front desk call me to ask if I was having some psychotic break or planning a really bad coup.
I said no, I was trying to avoid my unit expiring of suffocation, and she said, right. So my cover is blown. Drats.
Thing Three
Okay, so yes, I had coffee this morning But it's not good coffee. Office coffee, like my cubicle, tastes wrong and redefines the concept of 'any caffeine anywhere I can get it', and while I am no coffee expert, when I'm twitching away from my drug of choice no matter how much sugar I pour in, you know something is wrong with the grinding process. I kind of want to take the big coffee machine and hide it, replace it with smaller, but far tastier, Mr Coffees that don't make it taste like we used wastewater for the base, you know? Or ooh, found a Starbucks next door. I don't get it. I fall over the damnable things everywhere but this street, and let me just say, I hate Starbucks so much it hurts me inside, but I could totally get behind them if my other choice is the worst. Coffee. Ever.
I need another cup now. Someone please rescue me. Or you know what? Tell me where there is epic h/c romance Sheppard/McKay, readable. Epic. H/C. Romance. Readable. With a nice, predictible formula, true love forever, and a satisfactory mansex ending. Fine me one and let me have it. I want romance and comfort and something to read while eating too much ice cream tonight and thinking, they are paying me to order bull semen and make imaginary meetings.
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no subject
From:My daily joy is brought to me by our 28 insane defense attorneys, 6 criminal investigators and 9 pathologically disturbed legal clerks who believe in living life as a bad soap opera... although I'm not sure testimony, lab tests and autopsy reports are really all that funny... one must find humour wherever one can...
And as I am now down to my last 3 months of this level of entertainment I find everything so much more funny and I can now laugh and smile without the appearance of psychosis... goddamn life is good!! Retirement also means that I'll be moving home for awhile so I'll be near your neck of the woods again...
I'll bring coffee
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