It's a mad house
-a maaaaaaad hooooouuuuuse!
o.o
It's after 5:30pm on a Sat. I haven't gotten any sleep since 10am Fri. morning. I've been at work for 27 of those hours. The SGI tech's here, the fileserver is in shambles, and I can't leave until the job is done. Projected finish time? God only knows...
We have a 'fall back' config to go to... and make this entire time worthless, and not be able to have another SGI tech get out here for -months- from now. And so we soldier on... The SGI tech has thrown himself to the mercy of travel agents, and has been left with no escape until tomorrow. He is lucky, for he shall not be around to be confronted by the High Shaman of Keeping My Butt Employed on Mon. For if he does not leave by plane, I shall remove him from this existence with my own two, keyboard-gnarled hands before he can taste the sweet freedom we have been denied.
I see the murderous glares of grad students across the hall. I think some are starting to turn their furniture into primitive weapons, their grant-wasted, scrunched brows shadowing blood-shot eyes burning holes of primal lust, longing for chaos and blood. They have lost hold of the logic behind 'when it's done,' having lost the ability to reason along with the males' loss of urinary targeting. My poor boots, nothing shall truly cleanse you from the mires you have borne me across these perilous hours...
... I can hear them... Pings... pings of ones and zeros across the aether... They are coming......
o.o
It's after 5:30pm on a Sat. I haven't gotten any sleep since 10am Fri. morning. I've been at work for 27 of those hours. The SGI tech's here, the fileserver is in shambles, and I can't leave until the job is done. Projected finish time? God only knows...
We have a 'fall back' config to go to... and make this entire time worthless, and not be able to have another SGI tech get out here for -months- from now. And so we soldier on... The SGI tech has thrown himself to the mercy of travel agents, and has been left with no escape until tomorrow. He is lucky, for he shall not be around to be confronted by the High Shaman of Keeping My Butt Employed on Mon. For if he does not leave by plane, I shall remove him from this existence with my own two, keyboard-gnarled hands before he can taste the sweet freedom we have been denied.
I see the murderous glares of grad students across the hall. I think some are starting to turn their furniture into primitive weapons, their grant-wasted, scrunched brows shadowing blood-shot eyes burning holes of primal lust, longing for chaos and blood. They have lost hold of the logic behind 'when it's done,' having lost the ability to reason along with the males' loss of urinary targeting. My poor boots, nothing shall truly cleanse you from the mires you have borne me across these perilous hours...
... I can hear them... Pings... pings of ones and zeros across the aether... They are coming......