In our continued branding extravaganza, I bought 5,000 temporary tattoos featuring our Gato Project logo, suitable for handing out in training classes, distributing at parties, etc. We used tattoofun.com, who did a superb job creating them. Here’s me proudly modeling one of them:
In other work news, we’re starting up a technical weblog where we’ll be detailing some of the technical aspects of our work. If you’re interested in technical stuff, especially web application development, come on by!
A few folks have asked about my recent purchase of luchador masks at work. Fazia has posted an excellent explanation over at her blog. (There are more photos on Facebook for those who just can’t get enough of knowledge workers dressed as wrestlers. Ooh, and knowledgeworkersdressedaswrestlers.com is still available! I’ll make millions…)
Some people like doing the same thing at work every day. The routine is comfortable — one always knows what’s expected and what to expect, there’s very little uncertainty to have to sort through, and one can go home with a clear sense of a job well-done.
Me? I hate it. If I have to do the same thing for more than a day or two, I tend to get restless, unable to concentrate, and grumpy. For that reason, I’m especially delighted that today my job at Texas State University required me to locate and buy the following:
Sometimes working for The Man is almost as much fun as being self-employed!
…and here’s what runs through my head all day.
Many thanks to the lovely and talented Jason Young for finally bringing my secret life to light.
My boss just put a Red Swingline Stapler on my desk.
If you don’t understand the significance of this, please go watch Office Space immediately.
If you still don’t understand the significance of this, then move along. There’s nothing for you here.
The other night, we had an emergency at work: the main Content Management Server has spontaneously rebooted, corrupting the database that contains about 90 of the University’s websites. Jeff and I rushed in at about 9:00pm and worked diligently, with only occasional breaks to watch Futurama, until 4:00am. Nearly hallucinatory with fatigue, we then stumbled out to the parking garage where our cars were, only to discover this guarding them:
“What on earth? Is that a possum? Or a racoon?”
“I think it’s a…holy cats…a porcupine!”
We continued to watch the critter, who was apparently dazed, as he alternately walked in counterclockwise circles, lay down on the curb to rest, and tried to climb the support columns. He seemed utterly indifferent to our presence, and was drooling prodigiously, which made us think he was probably pretty sick. We flagged down a passing campus security officer who was similarly bemused, but who eventually contacted his Sergent. “Leave it alone” was the Sergent’s advice, even though we’d expressed concern that it might be rabid.
After about 20 minutes of this, Jeff and I decided to go ahead and head out. We left the campus security office sitting in his golf cart, watching the critter wander around, still not doing anything about capturing it or getting it out of harms way.
I was rather miffed that they didn’t seem to be taking the rabies threat seriously, but was gratified to see three police cars racing toward the parking garage as we left. I like to imagine that the call went out on the radio shortly after our departure: “Aww, it’s cute. Come here, little guy. Want a bite of my sandwich? Hey, what are you doing? AARAAGAH! Officer down! Officer down! [static]” and that all those cars found on their arrival was the golf cart and an abandoned sandwich.
P.S. Thanks to Jeff and Fazia for the photo.
I’m considering two curiosities today:
Oddity The First:
I have a brother named Chris. He stands 6’4″, is quick-witted, has the McMains family good looks(!), and generally makes a significant and favorable impression on people. So it’s only natural that when people forget my name, they might come up with his once in a while.
The peculiar thing, however, is that people who have never met him — indeed, many who don’t even know that I have a brother — will also call me “Chris”. I get called by his name about 75% of the time when people call me something other than my actual name (discounting epithets). I would suggest that we perhaps got our proper names switched when we were younger, and the correct names left their mark, but nobody that I know of seems inclined to call him by name. Strange indeed.
Oddity The Second:
I bumped into Tim the Glassblower this morning. He asked me if I’d lost weight, claiming that I must have dropped at least 15 pounds since we met. Other people, including my own dear Abigail, ask similar things with a good deal of regularity. But I’ve hovered within a 5 pound range for three years now, a far longer period of time than I’ve known Tim. My friend David Barnard has also reported a similar phenomena: everyone seems to think we’re fatter than we are, and are then surprised by our actual physical presence. Baffling. Perhaps I should join Weight Watchers and rake in the rewards for my continual, though nonexistent, weight loss.
