Christine of the three Chrises asked me if there were others named like me in my family. I'm, like, yeah, inasmuch as "like me" means something half-made up, half-abbreviated, there is another. And they were very appreciative of my sister's name, except one thought it meant brother, and Christine thought Japanese instead of Yoruba.

Names are so...so very.

From the shit I didn't say file:

Look, I am not a children's librarian and you are supposed to be a grown ass man. Please stop making it my problem that you never learned how to play well with others or share your toys, I mean books.

I got an email on Tuesday from the PM on one of my projects saying "The sales order has been signed. I don't know how the vendor is going to get it, though." The sales order was attached to the email.

We have a full time vendor representative sitting three cubes over from him, with a company phone number and email address. I literally, honestly, have no idea what he can possibly mean by "I don't know how the vendor is going to get it". You are an intelligent man with two working legs and ten working fingers. You're going to send her an email and/or walk over and tell her about it. What does that statement mean?

I asked him if he'd sent it to her (with my manager still on the cc), he said no, and I just said fuck it and forwarded it to her. Some questions don't need answering. They just need to be rendered immaterial.

Timelies all!

Went downtown to meet some friends from out of town for dinner. Very nice.

We have a full time vendor representative sitting three cubes over from him, with a company phone number and email address.

Dear god, people are stupid.

I spent a good ten minutes trying to work out if there was a reason any of the things *I* was thinking of, working from home, to do to get her the sales order weren't going to work--the project manager also sits next to the business analyst whose job it is to balance the IT books and get the vendors paid (one of the Chrises, actually), and she does this shit in her sleep.

So even if he'd remotely forgotten about the woman he probably talks to every day who's the intended recipient, the woman he probably talks to every half hour--IT'S HER JOB TO GIVE SALES ORDERS TO VENDORS.

Mind boggling.

This is the kind of thing that only the internet will appreciate, and probably not even then:

This crappy Burt Reynolds TV movie that the husband and I are watching on Netflix just used, as the soundtrack for someone being blown up in a car bomb, about 20 seconds from the "Sanctus" of Benjamin Britten's War Requiem.

My new source of joy:

Dog Shaming. The perfect tumblr for anyone who's ever come home to find the dog got into the bathroom trash bin again...

oh Consuela. That's amazing.

Dog Shaming. The perfect tumblr for anyone who's ever come home to find the dog got into the bathroom trash bin again...

Love. Forwarded immediately to my family.