Stuff, Things, and Shit (Sorry, no Junk)

1. I got hung out to dry. I've gotten screwed at work before, but never this overtly. Angry Taco is Angry.
2. Piece of shit I used to be good friends with hurt awesome person I really fucking love's feelings. Angry Taco is Seeing Red.
   
3. I had to work late today because of the fuck up that I wasn't responsible for, and that the one responsible won't acknowledge. Angry Taco is Pissed.
4. This jackass in California decided to dick me over and make all kinds of noise about how important it was for him to get my fix as soon as humanly possible without actually answering my question about whether he had to have it tonight (accepting the fact that I'd be harder to reach outside business hours) or if he could wait until tomorrow. I didn't let him have it, but once I asked him point blank and couldn't get a straight fucking answer, I went home and let him stew for the hour and a half it takes for me to drive home, have dinner, etc. He's much more cooperative now. But he's still a fucknut. Angry Taco is Ready to Snap.
5. Wifezilla takes kidzookie out to the mall for Mommy & Son's Night Out (TM). I asked her to pick me up a technical book I really need, since there's a Barnes & Noble in the mall. She comes home and hands me the bag, which contains the book I needed... plus the only Christopher Moore book I don't yet own. I look up and she smiles and says I seemed to be having a bad day, so she and my son got me a present. Angry Taco is... Less Angry.
   

I renounce my humanity.

I don't want to be associated with you fuckers any more.

I'm flipping through the channels tonight, and I see some lady missing and presumed dead, body parts found on the side of some highway, and a 3 month old infant found dead and probably tossed out of a car.

What the fuck, people?

I'm one of the most disagreeable sons of bitches you're likely to find anywhere. I don't like people at all. And I still can't imagine doing any of this shit.

What the fuck is wrong with people?

I don't want you fuckers messing up my rep anymore. I quit.

Mental Masturbation

That's my favorite thing to call it.

I write software. No big surprise there. Both of you that actually read this know that.

I really just want to be left alone to write good software. Again, no big surprise.

Management isn't so into that, because management isn't really into good software. They're more into preening for the guys above them in the pecking order.

Anyone surprised yet? I didn't think so.

So we have this system set up where people testing and using our software can report bugs in it. It goes through this whole process and eventually get assigned to the programmer best suited to fixing the problem. In theory, anyway.

Frequently, as we're working, we'll find bugs in our own code... and if we're busy with something else and don't have time to work on it right then (which is, of course, usually the case), we'll log a bug against it just to make sure it doesn't get lost. Sue us. We actually like developing software and give a flying fuck. Call us young and idealistic. I'm pretty sure the correct term is "dumbass." So I'll take it as flattery.

Corporate mandate says that the person who files the bug has to fix it... but what do you do when you file a bug that you have to fix? We have a whole QA group for this shit, right?

Wrong. The filer verifies it.

To hell with the fact that the person who fixes the bug is inherently unqualified to verify that the functionality is correct. I mean, I wrote the fix, so obviously, I'm going to bitchslap the fix and say it's insufficient, right? And forget the fact that I'm not really capable of getting outside my own head and using it in ways I didn't anticipate.

That's not important, right?

Nah.

So today I spent the whole fucking day... the whole fucking day... verifying several dozen... DOZEN... bugs I had filed against myself and fixed.

And I actually went through them and tested them, because despite the fact that it's stupid, I give a greasy rat's ass. And I even reopened two of them because of that whole rat's ass thing.

But come on... I'm an aberration. Is it really smart to count on all your devs being as fucking stupid as me?

Dear managementards: Laziness rules. I hate to inform you.

God.

The Danger of Wishes

Lately, we've had a lot of trouble getting my son to stay in bed after bedtime. He comes downstairs over and over again, wanting hugs, wanting to ask questions, wanting to know what some noise was, you name it. We've established a firm rule that you have to keep your scrawny little ass in bed after you're tucked in, and no yelling downstairs to us, or you get no hugs, no second tuck-ins, nothing.

It doesn't do shit, of course, but we have the rule.

So last night, he's up over and over again, and I'm getting pissed. "I heard a noise upstairs, is the computer off?" (That's been a popular one, lately)

I log in remotely to the machine upstairs and check the volume. Nope, I had forgotten to mute it. I mute it remotely. "There ya go, kiddo, get back upstairs."

Two minutes later, he's back downstairs. "I heard a noise. Are you sure it's off?"

"Yes, I'm sure."

"Can you turn it off again?"

I'll check again. "Yep, it's off."

"But I heard something."

"The dishwasher's on. The washing machine's on. The dryer's on. You probably heard something from one of those. Or one of the cats moving around the house. Or maybe the wind blew one of the trees against the house. There's absolutely nothing to be worried about. Now get. Your. Butt. Upstairs."

"But..."

"Get upstairs now, and don't come down again, or you're going to be in a lot of trouble."

Tears. Snot. The works. I haven't even raised my voice at this point, so I don't understand this reaction at all. My wife goes upstairs with him to tuck him in and play good cop to my bad cop. She comes downstairs about five minutes later, smirking and suppressing giggles.

Turns out, the root of the matter was this: he had been curious to know whether wishes worked, so on the playground at school that day, he'd tested it by wishing on a dandelion that monsters were real. Every bump and thump that night sent the kid into hysterics.

My life, ladies and gentlemen.

/bow

Day 4. Still no shoe. Tensions mounting.

Here there be rambling.

This afternoon was pretty damn great. And that scares me, because Mr. Murphy still owes me a kick in the ass, and it was a Monday. He's gotta have something really bad planned.

It was warm out today. T-shirt weather. I took a walk this morning just because it felt so good outside (my walks are usually motivated by a desire to postpone committing a homicide until the witnesses disperse).

It was a good work day. I got a lot done. Then the UK guys got back to us, and not only were they receptive to the features I requested... they had anticipated them and designed ahead for them. So not only was their answer a rather out-of-character yes, it was a yes, and would you like to supersize your order for an additional fifteen cents?

I stopped by Target on my way home to pick up a DVD set for a friend of mine. I'm really shitty at giving gifts at holiday seasons, so when I see something that makes me think of someone, I usually pick it up right then and give it to them. Actually, that's probably why I'm so bad at giving gifts at holiday season: I can't hang onto a gift once I've purchased it. It's okay, though. I've embraced it. I call them Happy Today Presents and just hand them out.

Where was I? Oh, yes. The internet. It has porn and lolcats. And porn. It has to have surpassed sliced bread as the greatest human accomplishment by now.

No, wait... DVDs. Right. I knew Blue was a fan of the show, so after I made sure she didn't have them already, I picked them up on the way home. Stopped by Target, nicked in, grabbed the last set they had, and cashed out. I was feeling kinda bouncy on my way out, 'cause it's always fucking awesome when you get someone something you know they'll like, so I was whistling my way back to my car.

I got out into the cars and someone started calling to me to get my attention. I turned to look, and this little old black lady in a motorized scooter was trying to wave me down. I walked over to see what she needed, and it turned out that she'd bought a big case of bottled water, and couldn't get it into her car's trunk by herself. No idea why the asshats at Target didn't offer to help her, when it was pretty obvious she couldn't lift the damn things herself, but whatev.

Hey, I used teenager slang from a couple years ago that's totally out of style. I'm officially old.

So I helped the lady lift the water into her trunk, and then talked to her for a few minutes afterward, and she was the most charming little old woman I think I've ever met. I was grinning ear-to-ear for an hour or two after.

Whatever's headed my way is going to be nasty.