Tuesday, September 25, 2007

Cracking me up (pun intended)

Last Friday, we had a little TGIF celebration at Google. It was kind of a big deal, since they were basically introducing us (Postini) as a whole to the rest of the Google TGIF'ers. (Boy, that's a whole other blog post, let me tell you. I've worked with some geeky people in my 20+ years in high tech, but dammmmmmmmmmmmn. I saw some sh*t Friday that just takes the cake.)

We celebrated Google accomplishments (lots of polite clapping), and more Google accomplishments, blah, blah, blah. There was free food, and free beer (heyyyyy, that's what I'm talking about!) and free water. Oh, wait. Water IS free. Mostly. Anyway, all the water and beer and on the way back to the shuttle bus, I realized: I'm not going to make it back to San Carlos. I gotta pee! I stopped at a building and it was off to find the restroom. Found it, with the help of a fellow Googler! And jeez. What the hell? The toilet seat looked weird. Surgical-like hoses coming out of it, a weird little control panel on the wall next to the toilet. What is this? When I sat down, I found that the seat was HEATED! As I was examining the control panel, I realized that the funny toilet seat was actually a bidet! It even had pictures on the buttons. Ha, ha, ha.

Okay, I've never seen a bidet. I admit it. But an OFFICE building was the last place on Earth (next to my parents place) that I ever expected to see one! The worst part: I was on the verge of cracking up, but I couldn't, because someone else was in there!!! I was afraid to test it out, in case it reacted badly and I didn't want to explain why the back of my shirt was all wet...

Thursday, September 13, 2007


Today is going to be nuts. I'm not sure exactly when things will take a turn for the crazy side, but I expect it will be somewhere around 3. Today is the day when "officially", Google takes over. Today I work for Postini. Tomorrow I will be a Google employee. A Googler, or is it a Giggler? At least I will still be employed!

Some stand to make an a**load of cash for their stock options. I'm on the low end of the totem pole (engineering scum), so I'll make a fair bit. Not enough to quit my day job (and race full-time), mind you. But enough that I think I can buy a place to live sometime next year. For those that will be semi-millionaires, and millionaires, and multi-millionaires, the celebration is planned. This showed up yesterday, courtesy of one of the soon-to-be-millionaires:

Someone added a couple of magnums to the collection this morning. I added a can of Coke, to gain perspective of the size of the GrandDaddy. Gawddamn, that bottle is big. I almost fell over last night when I took a look at it (after prodding from other engineers, because I didn't believe them). That's a whole lotta champagne. The last time everyone at work was drunk was in July. When the announcement was first made about the buyout. It was kind of scary, actually. One man, who apparently really likes to drink (a LOT) was pretty hammered. He cornered me (reeeeee! reeeee! reeeee!) and proceeded to tell me how he remembered (and obviously liked) the dress I wore at the holiday party. Umm, that was in JANUARY. Granted, I never wear dresses to work, I mean, why would I? I don't see customers, I sit at a computer all day. I'd not want to date someone from work, so who do I need to impress? Nobody. But I'd lost weight and I promised myself that I'd wear that dress for the holiday party, if I'd lost enough weight. I hadn't worn it in YEARS. And it looked GOOD on me. But damn, y'all. I didn't think some drunken engineer would remember that dress many months later... and as he was telling me about it, he was standing about an inch away from me. Kind of makes me want to re-think the dress code for the holiday party NEXT year...

And here we go again. I'm going to hide from him later today. HIDE, I tell you. I know that's not very grown up, but I don't care. :o)

Tuesday, September 11, 2007

Random musings (of a spaz)

I used to LOVE going to the gym. Of course, that was when I was bodybuilding. And I was living in Seattle, where it rains 9 months (or more) of the year. Ride a a bike outdoors in Seattle? Fuggetabout it. So I lifted weights. And competed in bodybuilding shows. And tanned. OMG, did I tan. I hope it never bites me in the butt, but I digress.

I started lifting again last week. I imposed a 2-3 week ban from the bike for myself, and headed back into the gym. Figured I'd do some other stuff. Rock climbing. Weights (and not the wimpy ones I have at home), real weights! Running. Anything but the bike. I even got new running shoes on Saturday after watching the track championships. I had every intention of going to the gym last night after work. I packed my gym bag and was ready to go. Ready to try out my new running shoes. On the way to the bathroom at work, I wondered: "Nuts. What shirt did I bring with me for the gym?". AUGH! NO SHIRT! Dammit. I had everything but a shirt. I'm not going to the gym in my work shirt, so I went home instead. Bloody hell. Went home and watched some silly reality show (The Pick Up Artist). I'm almost embarrassed to admit that, but it's hilarious. The "supposed" master of the show I wouldn't let near me with his weird goggles, but one of his sidekicks is pretty hot. Silly entertainment.

So about an hour or so before bed (I wasn't really tired, but knew I had to get up early for the gym), I took an Advil P.M. I got a free sample with my Sunday paper. Obviously, I wasn't that tired, or I'd have not stayed up to watch 4 dorks trying to hopelessly learn how to pick up chicks. Finally, I made myself go to bed. Damn, I just couldn't sleep.

The next thing I know, the alarm was going off. Huh? I just went to bed! I felt like I was in a coma, or drugged, or something. I had no idea where I was or what the hell that noise was (the alarm). After much procrastination, I got out of bed and started the coffee. I finally got my butt out of the house and to the gym, and it felt pretty good to be lifting in the morning.

For whatever reason I didn't notice it last week, but this morning it was clear. Ewww. Lots of dudes with hairy legs. That USED to look normal to me. And I actually kind of liked it. And I liked the big muscular guys. Okay, I still like the guys with big muscles, but only if they shave their legs! I don't even know how I'd handle that if some cute, muscular guy got all friendly with me. "Oh, sure. We could go out, but only if I could shave your legs." Ha, ha, ha. That might actually be funny... Somehow, I don't think the guy would think so though.

Apparently the combination of: Advil PM, good night's sleep, coffee, lifting weights and just one more cup of coffee has made me into one hyper, computer nerd today. I cannot sit still. I am completely unable to maintain my train of thought. I'm almost scared because I have an acupuncture appointment tonight which either makes me really sleepy or really hyper. Jesus. If it's the latter, I'd better be stopping at the store for more of that Advil PM, otherwise I will be trying to recruit neighbors to my impromptu aerobics class in the parking lot.

Oh yeah. Nobody stole the flour-filled paper last Saturday morning (damn!!!). It remains, in it's plastic bag, awaiting the next time I get to try to catch the paper thief.

Friday, September 7, 2007

Payback's a b*tch

I hate when people steal things. Two of the last three Saturdays, I've had to leave early, before my paper arrived. One of the Saturdays, I didn't get home till around 4, so it didn't really matter. But last Saturday, I got home around noon. No paper. WTF? I think I'm the only person in my building that gets a paper, but people, please. Buy your own effing paper! How much are they, like $0.50? If you can't afford your own paper, then maybe you should move to a more affordable neighborhood, no?

As I usually do, I opted not to get mad, but to get even. I swear to God, if my front porch were made of wood, I'd nail the paper to it, but then again, my paperboy must be sleeping in on Saturdays. Last Saturday, I left at 6:30, no paper. Dude. 6:30!!! So, I kept a paper from Thursday. And of course, I keep the little blue plastic bags they come in, because they make awesome poop bags! Tonight I doctored up that paper.

I lay it on the kitchen counter, opened and filled each section with flour. Not a ton, but enough to make a mess. I put the entire paper back together as it came to me, put it back in the plastic bag, and it's lying in the hall. I plan to leave in the morning, grab the *real* paper and switch it with the flour-filled paper. Muwahahaha! I hope that whomever is stealing it gets that sh*t all over themselves and all over their apartment. It will absolutely serve them right.

If you wonder where this comes from, it comes from my Grandmother, Ruth. My Dad's Mom. She was my rock. Greatest cook in the world, and a fabulous mother-figure for me. When she was working, she'd put her lunch in the company refrigerator. Someone kept stealing her sandwich. So, one day, she got even. She made a sandwich, with some Ex-Lax in it. Put it in the refrigerator just like all the other days. And sure enough, it was stolen. I remember how funny she thought that was, and you know, I get it. I really do. If you steal, then you deserve what you get!

Don't get mad, get EVEN!