Daily dose of diminutive drama
Tortured artist that I am, I had a panic attack last night upon realizing that my Transformers costume was more closely resembling a Gundam than a Decepticon. D. talked me down off the balcony, but not before I left A. a rambling voicemail trying to call the whole thing off. In the light of the day, I realized I had overreacted and contacted Boy Bünd to set things right, only to discover that L. had canceled long before I had. As per usual, he backed out of another event with the barest hint of potential public embarrassment, citing the need for sleep before his big rowing competition. Faced with the sad image of just the two of us showing up in costume accompanied by a group of four or more non-participatory loser friends, A. and I called it all off. The present plan is to wear tonight's costumes to Harry Potter next weekend, because it's only slightly more absurd.
The secret cabal formed by my dev manager, myself and our project manager finally met to discuss my role during S.'s prolonged absence. A story was arrived at to mollify the assistant manager when he arrives next week to find me sitting in on meetings with him and the higher-ups, cleverly utilizing the truth that S. only had time to deliver unto myself his so-called "brain-dump" therefore my presence is required. There will likely be some hard feelings and uncomfortable situations in the next two weeks regardless, particularly since H. seems overly concerned with pissing contests and power plays. Meanwhile, as quasi-virtual-pseudo-management-by-proxy, I learned all sorts of interesting tidbits about deals currently under work and various upcoming internal reorgs. It seems as though I could easily slide myself into the assistant manager position when it is inevitably vacated; it's just a question of whether I want to.
While killing time by gathering documentation of my finances yesterday I discovered that I am in fact the upper-middle-class equivalent of the old coot who secretes away rubberband-bound rolls of cash throughout his mattress and floorboards. I continually discovered I have more and more liquid assets gathering dust in odd corners of rarely used childhood savings accounts, overflow from eTrade and unexercised stock grants. The final total is nothing short of absurd, but considering how fuck-ass expensive homes are these days actually coming up with 20% so I can avoid private mortgage insurance, points, or a dual-loan is pretty fuck-ass absurd. It's hard to imagine anyone other than an existing homeowner being able to get enough in liquid assets to drop such a chunk of cold, hard cash.
But I'll give it the old Boy Scout try.
The secret cabal formed by my dev manager, myself and our project manager finally met to discuss my role during S.'s prolonged absence. A story was arrived at to mollify the assistant manager when he arrives next week to find me sitting in on meetings with him and the higher-ups, cleverly utilizing the truth that S. only had time to deliver unto myself his so-called "brain-dump" therefore my presence is required. There will likely be some hard feelings and uncomfortable situations in the next two weeks regardless, particularly since H. seems overly concerned with pissing contests and power plays. Meanwhile, as quasi-virtual-pseudo-management-by-proxy, I learned all sorts of interesting tidbits about deals currently under work and various upcoming internal reorgs. It seems as though I could easily slide myself into the assistant manager position when it is inevitably vacated; it's just a question of whether I want to.
While killing time by gathering documentation of my finances yesterday I discovered that I am in fact the upper-middle-class equivalent of the old coot who secretes away rubberband-bound rolls of cash throughout his mattress and floorboards. I continually discovered I have more and more liquid assets gathering dust in odd corners of rarely used childhood savings accounts, overflow from eTrade and unexercised stock grants. The final total is nothing short of absurd, but considering how fuck-ass expensive homes are these days actually coming up with 20% so I can avoid private mortgage insurance, points, or a dual-loan is pretty fuck-ass absurd. It's hard to imagine anyone other than an existing homeowner being able to get enough in liquid assets to drop such a chunk of cold, hard cash.
But I'll give it the old Boy Scout try.