Friday blather
Jun. 20th, 2008 02:45 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
grammarwomanThis has been one of those weeks where I feel like I’ve been non-stop, go-go-go, but when I look back…meh.
Monday, I got my boobs professionally flattened. There’s a lot of nasty girly-parts cancer on my mom’s side of the family, so once I hit the magic 35, I knew there was a mammogram in my future.
Can I just say, it fucking HURTS to get your boobs in a vice grip? The technology itself is pretty slick – an adjustable squisher that can zoom up and down and rotate in either direction, so at least I didn’t have to slump or contort myself to get into it. The grips come down, and then the tech adjusts the last bit manually until you squawk. Then she steps behind the magic window and zaps a picture. Each side got the treatment twice, once flat and once at a 45-degree angle (which hurt worse). I haven’t heard any results yet, but the technician was impressed with my fortitude.
Boobies should not look like pancakes, and they do not appreciate the attempt to make them that way.
Tuesday, my current supervisor threatened me about one of my tasks for the current project, basically implying that I had to have the code completed by the time he was back in the office on Thursday. I stayed late Tuesday and Wednesday to get as much done as I could. Thursday morning brought another couple of fires that I ably helped to extinguish, and not a word was spoken about my code. *headdesk* This guy is EPIC FAIL when it comes to managing, which is a damn shame because he’s great at programming and design.
I just can’t win here. I’m getting tag-teamed with “Are you done yet?” from the two people in charge of this project when I keep getting clean-up jobs from the project currently in QA and other problems to solve, in addition to handling three different poorly-outlined assignments for this project. What I find grimly amusing is that all of the problems handed to me to solve are Other People’s Fuckups, like the QA test plan failing on a section that proved to be not my code, or an import file that wouldn’t because it wasn’t formatted correctly. Today’s choice selection was the DBA "improving" my submitted SQL code; I had to inform him that his replacement didn’t actually work. He hasn’t gotten back to me yet.
However, the Emperor continues to be a joyful goober. Two other teachers from daycare have commented on how smart he is (with another "You guys must be smart, too!"), and yesterday he was well behaved enough that the head teacher made sure to let us know at the end of the day. (You know your kid’s a handful when the teacher is thrilled when he listens and doesn’t act up for a day.) He is fascinated by his dad’s talking Simpsons cards (two from his birthday and one from Father’s Day). It’s funny as hell, especially when he was trying to show them off over the phone to my parents. The husband and I were almost peeing in our pants from laughter when our little pitcher was parroting "That’s just drunk talk. Sweet, delicious drunk talk." I know it’s totally inappropriate, but you try keeping a straight face for that. The husband is just delighted to pass along a love for the Simpsons.
The cherry on my ice-cream Fridae is that I got to pass off the oncall phone. I think I can smell the weekend from here.
Monday, I got my boobs professionally flattened. There’s a lot of nasty girly-parts cancer on my mom’s side of the family, so once I hit the magic 35, I knew there was a mammogram in my future.
Can I just say, it fucking HURTS to get your boobs in a vice grip? The technology itself is pretty slick – an adjustable squisher that can zoom up and down and rotate in either direction, so at least I didn’t have to slump or contort myself to get into it. The grips come down, and then the tech adjusts the last bit manually until you squawk. Then she steps behind the magic window and zaps a picture. Each side got the treatment twice, once flat and once at a 45-degree angle (which hurt worse). I haven’t heard any results yet, but the technician was impressed with my fortitude.
Boobies should not look like pancakes, and they do not appreciate the attempt to make them that way.
Tuesday, my current supervisor threatened me about one of my tasks for the current project, basically implying that I had to have the code completed by the time he was back in the office on Thursday. I stayed late Tuesday and Wednesday to get as much done as I could. Thursday morning brought another couple of fires that I ably helped to extinguish, and not a word was spoken about my code. *headdesk* This guy is EPIC FAIL when it comes to managing, which is a damn shame because he’s great at programming and design.
I just can’t win here. I’m getting tag-teamed with “Are you done yet?” from the two people in charge of this project when I keep getting clean-up jobs from the project currently in QA and other problems to solve, in addition to handling three different poorly-outlined assignments for this project. What I find grimly amusing is that all of the problems handed to me to solve are Other People’s Fuckups, like the QA test plan failing on a section that proved to be not my code, or an import file that wouldn’t because it wasn’t formatted correctly. Today’s choice selection was the DBA "improving" my submitted SQL code; I had to inform him that his replacement didn’t actually work. He hasn’t gotten back to me yet.
However, the Emperor continues to be a joyful goober. Two other teachers from daycare have commented on how smart he is (with another "You guys must be smart, too!"), and yesterday he was well behaved enough that the head teacher made sure to let us know at the end of the day. (You know your kid’s a handful when the teacher is thrilled when he listens and doesn’t act up for a day.) He is fascinated by his dad’s talking Simpsons cards (two from his birthday and one from Father’s Day). It’s funny as hell, especially when he was trying to show them off over the phone to my parents. The husband and I were almost peeing in our pants from laughter when our little pitcher was parroting "That’s just drunk talk. Sweet, delicious drunk talk." I know it’s totally inappropriate, but you try keeping a straight face for that. The husband is just delighted to pass along a love for the Simpsons.
The cherry on my ice-cream Fridae is that I got to pass off the oncall phone. I think I can smell the weekend from here.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
Date: 2008-06-21 12:38 am (UTC)OUCH!!
Boobies should not look like pancakes, and they do not appreciate the attempt to make them that way.
You'd think! Stupid aging.
Boo to work stuff!
Yay to the Emperor getting praise. I hope he keeps behaving well. We've gone through some similar stuff with P. Parenting is interesting.
(no subject)
Date: 2008-06-21 07:04 pm (UTC)We've gone through some similar stuff with P. Parenting is interesting.
It's a good thing that our willful little buggers are so darned cute, hm?
(no subject)
Date: 2008-06-21 02:56 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-06-21 07:04 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-06-21 01:32 pm (UTC)*winces in sympathy* I have about nine years to go before I hit the squishy boob mark.
The husband and I were almost peeing in our pants from laughter when our little pitcher was parroting "That’s just drunk talk. Sweet, delicious drunk talk."
*giggles*
(no subject)
Date: 2008-06-21 07:05 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-07-08 06:21 pm (UTC)Hi, this is Ladycat who will be staying with you during Shore Leave. What's your email? We're sending out phone numbers so we can find everybody once we have the room, and I want to send you ours.
Thanks!
(no subject)
Date: 2008-07-08 09:36 pm (UTC)My email is grammarwoman AT gmail DOT com.
Looking forward to meeting you!