bitch, bitch, bitch
It's 53 degrees in my office. And I had a 13-hour work day.
And I don't mean my other office, the one in the shade of a mesquite tree in south Texas where I keep my clipboards and sunscreen and water bottles, where I am frequently hiding and filling out data sheets during lunch breaks on sampling trips and Boss comes to find me and I say, "Step into my office, T-Bone." I mean my actual, indoor, tropical plants and computers office. With doors, and windows, and, supposedly, heat and cooling, both! But something is rotten in Denmark, and six (SIX!) maintenance guys smoking in the mechanical room above my office couldn't make a dent in it today. The rest of the floor is no better, and the other three floors are warmer, but by less that 5 degrees. The undergrads rolling in in their slippers and shorts today had a rude awakening.
We had lunch in Gia's office, huddled around her space heater, and after that I retired to the weigh room (with the ovens on) to kill time before I had to go back to my office. But a 30-sample mass spec run only takes an hour to weigh, so I was back in my ice box when T-Bone came to find me, and I realized I'd been sitting there in my coat, hat, scarf, blanket, and gloves for two hours, and I couldn't feel my feet. Tomorrow I will have my hunting gear on over my regular clothes, and no one will make fun of me, because they won't see me. The outfit is camouflage.
We had our Superbowl party at Gia and DJ's last night, and Preschool M was running around prettying us all up with Mardi Gras beads during the game. Step-Grandpa got a makeover, complete with princess stickers all over his shirt, and I fed her chicken strips like a dolphin trainer, tossing chunks into her mouth as she wandered by. We played Superbowl bingo and ate way too much food (Step-Grandpa made teriyaki short ribs and honey-bourbon chicken, Grandma made this cheddar and bacon macaroni salad, AMAZING, and coleslaw, Gia and DJ made hot wings, and Jules and I brought crackers and dips and veggies.) They were kind enough to pack me a tupperware, so when I got home three hours late tonight, all I had to do was nuke it.
Favorite commercials: Tommy's down the well, Fast Five, Tiny Darth Vader.
Jules' favorite commercial: Mike Rowe. I don't know what he was selling, because she kept yelling, "Take off your shirt!" over the dialogue.
Least favorite: What the fuck was that Tibet/Groupon shit? Couldn't tell if it was supposed to be funny or serious, it was just offensive. I've been trapped in the office all day, so I haven't been able to check if there is outrage from people other than me, but surely Jules and I weren't the only people flabbergasted.
Favorite part of the game: stupid Steelers quarterback's stupid disappointed face.
Called my parents afterward, and my mom and I were discussing the halftime show, which my dad somehow missed, and he asked us to explain the outfits to him. It was too hard. Peep-toe knee-high boots! Bedazzled shoulder pads! Whatever was on will.i.am's head! I told him to go back to watching Glee and just google it in the morning. Aside: the way our rent-a-kid says "Cheerios" is hilarious. Go ahead, you try it with an Icelandic accent.
And I don't mean my other office, the one in the shade of a mesquite tree in south Texas where I keep my clipboards and sunscreen and water bottles, where I am frequently hiding and filling out data sheets during lunch breaks on sampling trips and Boss comes to find me and I say, "Step into my office, T-Bone." I mean my actual, indoor, tropical plants and computers office. With doors, and windows, and, supposedly, heat and cooling, both! But something is rotten in Denmark, and six (SIX!) maintenance guys smoking in the mechanical room above my office couldn't make a dent in it today. The rest of the floor is no better, and the other three floors are warmer, but by less that 5 degrees. The undergrads rolling in in their slippers and shorts today had a rude awakening.
We had lunch in Gia's office, huddled around her space heater, and after that I retired to the weigh room (with the ovens on) to kill time before I had to go back to my office. But a 30-sample mass spec run only takes an hour to weigh, so I was back in my ice box when T-Bone came to find me, and I realized I'd been sitting there in my coat, hat, scarf, blanket, and gloves for two hours, and I couldn't feel my feet. Tomorrow I will have my hunting gear on over my regular clothes, and no one will make fun of me, because they won't see me. The outfit is camouflage.
We had our Superbowl party at Gia and DJ's last night, and Preschool M was running around prettying us all up with Mardi Gras beads during the game. Step-Grandpa got a makeover, complete with princess stickers all over his shirt, and I fed her chicken strips like a dolphin trainer, tossing chunks into her mouth as she wandered by. We played Superbowl bingo and ate way too much food (Step-Grandpa made teriyaki short ribs and honey-bourbon chicken, Grandma made this cheddar and bacon macaroni salad, AMAZING, and coleslaw, Gia and DJ made hot wings, and Jules and I brought crackers and dips and veggies.) They were kind enough to pack me a tupperware, so when I got home three hours late tonight, all I had to do was nuke it.
Favorite commercials: Tommy's down the well, Fast Five, Tiny Darth Vader.
Jules' favorite commercial: Mike Rowe. I don't know what he was selling, because she kept yelling, "Take off your shirt!" over the dialogue.
Least favorite: What the fuck was that Tibet/Groupon shit? Couldn't tell if it was supposed to be funny or serious, it was just offensive. I've been trapped in the office all day, so I haven't been able to check if there is outrage from people other than me, but surely Jules and I weren't the only people flabbergasted.
Favorite part of the game: stupid Steelers quarterback's stupid disappointed face.
Called my parents afterward, and my mom and I were discussing the halftime show, which my dad somehow missed, and he asked us to explain the outfits to him. It was too hard. Peep-toe knee-high boots! Bedazzled shoulder pads! Whatever was on will.i.am's head! I told him to go back to watching Glee and just google it in the morning. Aside: the way our rent-a-kid says "Cheerios" is hilarious. Go ahead, you try it with an Icelandic accent.