Desk Bunny

Sep. 9th, 2017 05:10 pm
spikethemuffin: (Default)
(tune: "Code Monkey," Jonathan Coulton)

Desk Bunny wake up, work out, paint face,
Desk Bunny go to job.
Desk Bunny dodge a creepy compliment
From married manager Rob.

Rob say he like her with no make-up on,
(Dude not have clue.)
Ask her about "the deal with S & M."
What that to you?

Desk Bunny she
wonder where that come from,
Was that something she somehow invite?
Desk Bunny she rictus-y grin,
Desk Bunny she hide crawling skin.

Desk Bunny professional.
Desk Bunny work on her MBA,
Desk Bunny a feminist,
Gonna change your stupid world,
She rule it someday.

Desk Bunny work like cowboy octopus,
Twenty-six phone lines.
Desk Bunny polish HR's side-project;
Make those e-mails shine.
Oh, no, got incoming developer.
Sweater make him drool.
Code Monkey crush on all that's carbon-based,
Desk Bunny not a fool.

Desk Bunny she
turn down Code Monkey's soda-bribe,
She have price but it not that.
Code Monkey treat friendship
so cheap,
Desk Bunny so tired but
Won't weep.

Desk Bunny professional.
Desk Bunny work on her MBA,
Desk Bunny a feminist,
Gonna change your stupid world,
She rule it someday.

Desk Bunny she spelling in the shower:
That Aretha song.
Want to send Code Monkey "Doctor Nerdlove" link,
But HR say that wrong.
Desk Bunny read Sheepfarmer's Daughter
And The Beauty Myth,
She hope that separate paths of heart and head,
False choice made up by Sith.

Desk Bunny is damned if do anything,
But she she double-damn├ęd if she don't.
Desk Bunny know that shit
Ain't right,
Desk Bunny can't win but she
Can fight.

Desk Bunny a feminist.
Desk Bunny work on her MBA,
Desk Bunny professional,
And she gonna change your stupid world,
Feel human someday.

[EDIT: changed this from "Desk Human," which implies Code Monkey is not. Suggestions for two-syllable words implying a feminine narrator, or opinions whether "Desk Jockey" would work better, are welcome.]
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It's that time of week-ish again, and I'm going to get ambitious, rolling on 2d10 to get percentile, since I have two days off. (Okay, not really accomplishing more, just granulating harder.)

Read more... )
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Can... can we not, when someone is describing the abusive or nigh-intolerable in a relationship or former relationship, say, "Well, I hope s/he is/was worth going through all of this?"

Because, you know, that's the trouble. When Zombie Bloke was good, he was very, very good--- forked tongues have upsides, baby, and you know "giant dick" worked on so many levels with that dude... and he was also incredibly witty, and kind (to anyone but me and his family), and a great storyteller...

The trouble was not that he wasn't worth the bend-over-backwards, constant-kowtow, pick-me boogie. If he was utter shit, then, blam, I'd have dusted and washed my hands literally decades before I did.

Let's replace that with, "I hope you know what you're doing, and what you're losing by doing it," huh?
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I got in touch with programming from the con.

They sent,

"Hi Laura,

"The workshop information on the website is old and should have been removed. There is a shorter writer's workshop, but it is closed. Sorry for the confusion.



Now, the story I want to tell myself is: the website had, until fairly recently, info from the 2014 writer's workshop up. This was a 12-hour workshop (the currently-advertised workshop lasts four hours.) I want to tell myself that the workshop is closed, and I am in it. I want to ask the programmer if there is any way to check the list for my name.

I know, though, that this will seal me in the concom's minds as an asshole in denial. And I am, no question, but it's so unpleasant to have to tell someone that. I'm not going to subject them to it.

Also (and yeah, I know, I know), I did a reading on this and the querent card was the Tower, "you will be shattered, best case scenario by Kunalindi-style enlightenment, but prooooobably more 'can you use smithereen as a verb? Because that would be le mot juste.'" (OTOH, loads of strongly positive cards, largely concerning the possibility of meeting kind, knowledgeable, mature women and new beginnings, yay--- INCLUDING the Fool and the Priestess.)

I really want something chocolate-frosted now. Really, really.
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So much to do, must exercise with many workouts, practice make-up, finish crafts, "Run" cyber-errands, and clean, clean, clean. But dang. Ate less than half my minimum caloric intake yesterday. After spending a literal ninety+ post-work minutes basically staring off into space/ archive-crawling "How Baby," I said sternly, "Body. We have to." Body said, "do that, and something will break."

Well, okay, then.

I've forced a couple hundred calories into my foodhole. I trust my body, but parsecs to go before I sleep (tomorrow). I've burned incense to the goddess.

I'm firing off birthday greetings to kiddo #1, and writing that e-mail to Director Fury, and going to sleep, hardcore. Sorry, future me.


Sep. 6th, 2017 10:32 pm
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Childish delight in thinking that Lillian Luthor from Supergirl actually WAS Sue Ellen Mischke from Seinfeld.

EDIT: After much deliberation, my recollection of Seinfeld is made more awesome by the idea that Suellen Mischke was actually J'Onn J'onzz fucking with Elaine's head for his own amusement.
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Stiiiiiilll debating whether to use my established pen name, which, for Reasons, may reach Zombie Bloke/ my victim's ears and trigger them, and his librarian/ journalist sister and bookstore-owning mother-in-law, which might trigger THEM.

I am also a little pins-and-needlish, because I registered for the writer's workshop at an upcoming con a couple of months ago, and they have yet to get back to me. (Of course, I lost the stub for the enclosed money order.) Of course, there is no way to get hold of anyone except via Facebook. I'm kind of assuming it's not happening. Any SMOFs out there willing to advise a bitch up?

Yeah, didn't think so. And it would be rude to tag y'all.

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Right, so I HAVE to do boots or sandals for the costume.

I had forgotten about toe cleavage.

Can I just repeat that "toe cleavage" is one taboo that I consider very silly indeed? Like, I know a paraphilia for feet is fairly common, but it seems just... joy-destroying to cockblock those guys when those distracting feets are going to be under a desk/ cubicle apron in the course of a normal workday. And yes, I know that the most vociferous objectors are women who freak the hell out like the goblins from The Princess and the Goblin when seeing the implication that people's toes are not a unified, mannequin-molded mass but... seriously? THAT's what your subconscious has fixated on? Not, you know, seeing a tongue or teeth inside a mouth, or lips a different color from the skin around them, indicating visible mucous membranes, or something? And sandals are okay, but implied pentefurcation is not?

And yes, it's probably partially because I have freakishly long toes that NEVER don't show cleavage, like a woman who wears clothing that WOULD be modest, if only she didn't have larger breasts... nonetheless, it seems so very egregious.
spikethemuffin: (Default) platform integrator. If my RealAppeal (insurance-covered weight loss program), MyFitnessPal, and Samsung Health (as well as my abandoned/ deleted UnderArmour fitness app) would only talk to each other, I feel I'd get a better handle on what I need to do to really shape up.
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TFW when you fall asleep crafting in your bed with a 300-pack of googly eyes in your hand and wake up covered in eyeballs... I think if I manage to crank my body up to 11, I shall realize my idea of cosplay as a Victoria's Secret Angel, Ophanim-style, next year.
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(Goodwill was having their "half-off Halloween" sale.)

-Several bottles of new-in-package stage blood, .50 each;
-Girdle half-slip... thing, for which I have high hopes;
-White wrist gloves;
-Iron Man mask (super-cheapy, seriously 50 cents. Still bought it. Not pictured: the mouth slit will NOT allow for straws, unless the titanium-alloy titan sticks to coffee stirrers... I'm amused by the image of Tony Stark putting up with that bullshit for his closeted years...)
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-People who make their loved ones' lunches and put thoughtful notes in them;

-People who get loving notes in the their lunches, and are vastly annoyed by the manipulative, attention-seeking bastards who trash up the planet with their stupid little "gestures" arg;

-People who are stunned that someone takes for granted the fact that someone makes them food every day, just as a given. And that people feel that this person needs MORE affirmation and proof that they are loved and thought about? Unreal.
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Orpheus, torn apart, still singing.

There are some days
That he cannot even remember her name.
These are the best days, and the worst.
(He cannot say that he minds being dead.)

But then---
A smell. A pair of lovers arguing. The pause of a slim-ankled faun,
And she comes crashing like a hurricane into his head.
The oak that grows where his heart used to be
Groans, its leaves inverting like rain is coming.

Eurydice! A noise like the clatter of
marionettes, their strings cut.
Like the shuddering four-part intake of breath between sobs.

He never says a thing,
But you will know these days:
They are the days when Persephone waits
until she hears the even breath of sleep, and
Turns the door handle so deliberately
It does not even click as it closes.
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Those Vicky Justiz 5-minute, "tiny waist" workouts? Y'all know I have been eating healthy and exercising in other ways, but... in two weeks, my waist has shrunk by six inches. Although I obviously expect diminishing returns here, I may be a shapewear six by end of the month.

Weird side effect: my (twenty-six years old in five days!) post-pregnancy pooch pouch, the one that always may me look like I had a three-month baby bump, is not so much diminishing as it is slowly making its way up my body... Miz Justiz, please design some boob workouts!
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...I don't know.

Between unexpected bills, unexpected visitors, unexpected "company that makes a major element in your costume is being a dick to trans people, and maybe you as a ciswoman dressing up as a man in drag is you being a dick to trans people, too" maybe the universe is telling me not to go to Archon. I know my job is going "oops, sorry, can't have that time off because we are terrible at planning." I know last year, the con crud cost me three weeks' pay and almost cost me my job. I know that Ed-in-my-head (and now the-SMOF-I-used-to-know-in-my-head) is screaming at me for being so uppity as to consider myself worthy of going to science fiction conventions because I am a giant fraud of a fake nerd girl. I DON'T know that I will make a positive difference in anyone's experience by being there. I know that several of Zombie Bloke and Check Ex's friends will be there (although I am fairly certain no-one will recognize me and I cannot imagine that they would feel bothered to start some shit if they did--- the only person whom I'd actually recognize would be possibly the guy who accused me of penis envy around the turn of the wrong century to be accusing people of envying penes).

However, I also know I don't make good decisions when I have not eaten enough and when I am feeling financially strained, so I am not going to cancel my room reservation and sell my membership just yet... but sigh. Maybe that's what I should do.
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Fuck you for being boycott-worthy right as I need a box of Number 9GR.
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Things it's actually weirdly hard to do when all you eat is high-quality protein, fruit, veggies, peanut butter, and supplements (oh, and dollar-store instant coffee. How could I forget dollar-store instant coffee? It turns purple when it reacts with starches!):

1. Force yourself to eat;

2. Force yourself to eat in quantities sufficient to avoid brain shutdown (I know, it sounds like an excuse, but when I eat <1000 kcal/ day, my ADHD goes off the charts and my healthy willpower goes... somewhere not here. It won't tell me where. It becomes really hard to do food-for-me things like cleaning, reading, and exercising; my stammer gets very bad; and I stop losing weight. So maybe tend to your own knitting? 1000 a day is not actually all that gluttonous and going below that is a net loss in other areas of my life. Looking like a runway model is not only not a priority for me, it is not a possibility, and I resent the part of my brain that screams it should be. ZOMBIE BLOKE IS NO LONGER A THING, BOTCHBRAIN AND HIS APPROVAL WAS ALWAYS A THING TO BE SHUNNED, NOT SOUGHT EVEN WHEN HE WAS A THING. Also, part of losing my mother's approval WAS being fat, but all the skinny in the world will not bring that back.);

3. Not cut the next bitch who sneers, "You shouldn't eat fruit, fruit is just sugar, you might as well be chugging Mountain Dew with Cool Whip on top,"

4. Not run screaming into the day to buy doughnuts to waffle-iron and make hot-fudge-covered sandwiches with Bunny Tracks ice cream. Or Grape-Nuts. Have you ever eaten Grape-Nuts with water, heated up? I am at the "moan obscenely when I think too hard about cereal that used to be tedious" phase;

5. Remember to suck, not chew, my zinc lozenges.

Four weeks left to go-time.

I don't... I don't even know why I want to be a more costume-appropriate shape. I'm sure it will come to me. It had better not be a stupid reason...

Darn it...

Aug. 30th, 2017 12:33 pm
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...cute, flirty, nerdy maintenance guy, where were you when I was interested in guys? ("If you need anything... anything at all [elevator eyes], let me know." OMG COULD YOU BE JUST A LITTLE MORE CHEESY THE CRACKERS IN THE BACK MIGHT NOT GET THAT YOU WANT TO SPREAD THEM.)
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