…every time I count the number of items in my proofreading “to-do” stack, I get the same number, no matter how many items I have moved to the “completed” stack since the last time I counted.
And I know that nobody has been adding items to the stack, either, because it’s a complete, closed set of documents.
instructions:
1 – Go to http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Special:Random
The first random Wikipedia article you get is the name of your band.
2 – Go to Random quotations: http://www.quotationspage.com/random.php3
The last four words of the very last quote of the page is the title of your first album.
3 – Go to flickr’s “explore the last seven days” http://www.flickr.com/explore/interesting/7days/
Third picture, no matter what it is, will be your album cover.
Put it all together, that’s your first album.
Classical, I think. Figures.
ETA: And probably a musical pun in the title, too.
“I’d like the French toast please, with strawberry jam,”
“I’m sorry, sir, there’s no jam today.”
“Yesterday you said there’d be jam today.”
“Your pardon, sir, I said that we have jam every other day.”
“So you did. ‘Jam yesterday and jam tomorrow,’ you said. ‘But never jam today.’”
“Exactly, sir.”
“Well, how about the mushroom omelet, then?”
“Can’t recommend the mushrooms myself, sir, though they do have a following amongst a portion of our clientele.”
“Waffles, it is.”
“Right away, sir. Oh, the syrup’s crawled off again. I’ll fetch more.” The waitress faded out slowly, leaving only her smile.
I suppose it was inevitable.
I can actually see the fires of Abbadon in its beady little eyes. Well, in the one beady little eye in the picture.
A: “He thinks that when his feelings are hurt, he’s the only one that matters.”
B: “Isn’t there a shot for that now?”
A: “Yeah—a .22″
Email from one of my guys at work…
Would you ask [X] if I’ve accumulated enough blaster points to be promoted to Galactic Warlord? They have the coolest uniforms. Although they tend to show a bit more leg than I’m used to, I think I can carry it off well. Our overlord clients have been most pleased with my recent campaigns against the Fluidized Derigidoo Association (FDA), and I think with the new uniform I can get better parking.
It’s a shame about the shortage of blasters this year. My productivity suffered a bit at first, but I was able to find new ways to spread peace and joy utilizing some melee weapons the natives left lying around. Overall, I’m an asset to the empire.
Cordially yours,
Star Centurion [Y]
The scary part is that it makes perfect sense and I know exactly what he’s talking about.
When I gave a presentation yesterday, I forgot to set my print properties to full color, so the handouts ended up looking a little bland. I went ahead and sent an electronic version, rather than kill another tree, with the following comment:
“Here’s the eight-by-ten-colour-glossy-photographs-with-circles-and-arrows-and-a-paragraph-on-the-back-of-each-one (extra points for anyone who doesn’t remember 1967 but knows where the reference comes from) version of the PowerPoint from yesterday’s meeting.”
WIth my crew being the way they are, I was entirely unsurprised 1) that they actually got the reference, and 2) with the responses I got. Not even “I myself don’t remember 1967, but I think my parents Moonpuppy and Starmonkey do. Do I still get the points?”
Our last major vendor to find for the wedding is a photographer. As it happens, one of my coworkers does photography on the side. Actually, the way he described it, I get the impression that he and his business partner are really into digitial photography, and they’re dealing to support their habit.
I’d been putting this one off, not in the least because Fiancé has a major dislike of having his picture taken. You can tell, too. In most pictures I’ve seen, he looks as though he’s got something wedged in a very uncomfortable place…by which I don’t mean “the back seat of a Volkswagon.” Now, because he reads this, I need to clarify that holding a pose while looking relaxed is not easy for most people…and I am sure that we’ve all had enough bad pictures taken to discourage us from repeating an experience that is less uncomfortable than the average trip to the dentist, but more annoying than visiting the license bureau.
Well, it’s getting on towards the time when we really need to get this sorted out, so I thought we’d give the photogs a trial run and do a basic sitting with them. They packed up their gear and came over to the house for the shoot last night. Fiancé and I were all dressed up and ready. The cats even consented to a bare minimum of brushing.
The guys got their equipment set up with a minimum of good-natured bickering, and we were off. They did a great job of making the formal poses fun, and an even better job of making the casual poses fun. (I am particularly looking forward to seeing the proof of the one where he tossed me in the air. Yes, you did read that correctly.) Fiancé allowed as how he thought he could work with these two, and after we get a look at the proofs (which I hope will be within a week or so) we’ll make our final decision.
I am not sure who had the more interesting morning, me or A.
A: [X] and [Y] threatened to chain me down here [at new desk/new assignment].
Me: WHat you do in your own time is your business.
A: THEY threatened to chain me! Not me!
Me: What they do in THEIR own time is THEIR business.
***
A: I told [B] this would happen.
Me: Don’t let on that you’ve got psychic powers.
***
A: So do I cry now, or later?
Me: You may *headdesk* at your discretion.
A: That counts as a work-related injury, right?
Entirely by accident, I found a nifty game based on a book that I not only read, but enjoyed. And it panders to my ego.