t this post may self-destruct soon

Look, I understand there hasn't been as much forward motion on this project as all of us would like, but all the other deadlines have pushed it down the priority list. The "concerns" email you sent, listing the things that you thought would be done by end of this quarter? This is the first time I have ever seen that list. Which either means a)I am a complete flake and forgot about it; or b)you never sent it before. Since I just exhaustively searched my email and have found nothing like the list you sent? I'm thinking b). Of course, there's also answer c)Jilli is losing her mind.

ION, my devs just had me drink a shot of Wild Turkey. Which tastes like gasoline and despair. Ew, give me absinthe any day.

a shot of Wild Turkey. Which tastes like gasoline and despair.

You're lucky I love you, lady.

Well, actually, it works out nicely, because I don't like Fernet or absinthe, so I will take all your bourbon, and you may have all my Fernet and absinthe.

But it does taste like that! However, my devs thought the faces I made at it were hilarious, so that counts as co-worker bonding, right?

Whiskey is Listerine. Give me the college girl sweet drinks. Riunite Lambrusco and strawberry daiquiris!

:: pokes in thread ::

It is (almost) officially summer, here on campus. Today was honors ceremony rehearsal day. Sunday is the ceremony. And all week the event center across the street has been hosting various graduation ceremonies (each school in the University has it's own ceremony, plus a lot of local high schools use the venue, as well as a couple small, commuter colleges). I've been going non-stop all week. It's almost 6:30, and my brain just doesn't want to focus. I'd go home, but, it looks like I have a bonus date with the table-for-6 folks. They sent an email asking if I was available (automated one from their website). Eh. Given how much lack of service they have given, I'll take a freebie. Anyhow, that is tonight, and the dinner is down here by work, at 8pm. So, not worth sitting in an hour of traffic, just to turn around and come back. I feel I should be doing SOME work. But... brain, just not working.

I will jump on the 42 bandwagon! But not until October. 1971 seems to be a big Buffista year!

Joe was 42 last January. It's been a good year.

I'll be 41 in August. I'm an outlier. *sob*

Our central AC fan is broken. Fuckity. We have a window unit in the bedroom that my parents gave us, because I cannot, CANNOT sleep hot, especially with the insomnia.

I am going to have to clean house early in the morning, and later in the evening. I hate cleaning at night; it just seems like a daylight activity.

Hello Bitches, I love you all. And I'm not even tipsy.

Hi Epic! Always good to see your pixels.

I thought I had more, but I don't.

Just... Hi. Love y'all.

More bourbon for me! I don't like any sweet drinks, really. I don't even put sugar in iced tea.

For me, 42 is so last year.

But since we're non-traditional here, there's something vaguely Greek-play-esque about the bride's father wanting to be dressed exactly like the man the bride is about to marry.

Can you reframe it to him as "We aren't doing matchy-matchy. We want you to coordinate therefore please wear x,y,z and j garments, which will round out Our Look in the best way." And then get as specific as possible, perhaps in a quasi-bridezilla way. "THIS is what I want you to wear for my wedding. This is the Look I want."