Morning Becomes Hurt
23 March 1999
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Morning Becomes Hurt
23 March 1999
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2:41 PM: I was glad to see Muni's desperation-sniffer was back in operation this morning. Got to get to work early? In a daze from unexpected daylight? We've got just the thing - a nice, restful, and most of all, slow tour of the Muni tunnel system! Look at that graffiti! How do those crazy kids do it? Here, let's stop and take a long look.
Wheeee. Stupid McDonalds. "When did you stop serving breakfast?" "No, we're serving lunch now." I never have that big fish around when I need it. 10:30 AM indeed.
But in any case I still made it here in time for the meeting I needed to attend like an eager puppy, so as to maybe get some more interesting - well, different - work. Oy, it's only been four and a half hours, that's amazing. I feel like I've been here for a hundred years.
Speaking of hundreds of years, I was talking with some of my young cow orkers the other day about some upcoming projects, and the unfortunate young woman who is nominally my manager said, "Oh right, you know some database stuff, right?" I said, "Yes, yes, databases I do. I've been doing them since ...", stopped, calculated, blanched in horror, "... since you were all in grade school." They laughed and thought I was bragging. They'll understand one day. Unless they're hit by a burning Muni bus or the comet or something, you know.
I'm flipping my monitor off a lot today, I notice. Macs. Fuck em. Only thing in their favor is everything about Windows, in any flavor.
It's true, abstention does breed fear. Everytime I've come close to talking to or being among some group of people lately, I end up bailing on it. I feel like no matter what I say, I sound like a stalker loonie.
On the other hand, I was reminded today of one of the nice aspects of walking around the streets here: There are lots of people out there who are way crazier than me. It's a reassuring feeling.
Buahahahahahaha:
how+to+pick+someone+up+in+a+barOh man, buddy you are SO in the wrong place...
Willfully blind self-indulgent nebbish or amusingly quirky old coot? And how bout that local sports team? Discuss among yourselves.
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All names are fake, most places are real, the
author is definitely
unreliable but it's all in good fun. Yep.
© 1998-1999 Lighthouse for the Deaf. All rights reserved and stuff. The motto at the top of the page is a graffito I saw on Brunswick Street in Melbourne. | ||||
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