This snake was spotted in the hallway at work yesterday. Now, I know that I work with some snakes, but I wasn’t aware that actual snakes inhabited the offices.
Facilities eventually stopped by and removed the snake. Minutes later a form letter arrived in our inboxes warning us of the dangers of snakes, urging us to keep an eye open for them when traveling between buildings. There was no mention of having to keep an eye open for them while traveling inside the offices. I guess they were concerned about spreading mass panic.
I’m now having nightmares of snakes lying in wait under my desk, anxious to ambush my leg the moment I sit down.
It’s as if somebody has been spying on us for the past two years. This is more than a bit eerie and coincidental. Now…where’s that miniature secret camera hidden?
I created a new Windows 2003 VM server this afternoon to use as a development box. Loading up Visual Studio 2008 I couldn’t help but notice that the install splash screen cycled the same three faces over the entire length of the install:
Each photograph cycled in every 90 seconds, so that meant that over the course of an hour I saw each face forty times. And the longer I stared at these photos, the eerier they became. Come on, Microsoft. Can’t you mix things up a bit more? I’m sure you can afford to include more than three stock photographs in your insanely expensive software. After an hour I was getting a bit creeped out by Mr. Beady Eyes, Mrs. Neck Tendons, and Mr. “Mommy Made Me Wear This Sweater”.
I felt like gouging out my own eyes with the dull corner of my Post It Notes cube after an hour of watching these pictures scroll past over and over again. Can you please do something about this? I know that in the greater scheme of things this doesn’t really mean much, but if you’d mix in a few more graphics you’d set my mind a bit more at ease. At least replace Hipster Sweater Man and “OMG, I forgot that my badge was on. LOLcopters!” with something a bit less parodiable and disturbing.
I was changing Tyler’s diaper this afternoon when I noticed a sudden increase in diaper weight. Setting Tyler down I pulled away the velcro tabs, peeled away the diaper, and was shocked at what I discovered.
Judging by the sheer amount of carnage, I can only assume that a fecal matter explosive device (FMED) was set off in my son’s diaper. I was stunned by the overwhelming amount of waste that Tyler was swimming in. Covered equally back and front by a thick film of goo, little Tyler was coated in a mess that seemd beyond the ability of baby wipes to clean, and I began to wonder if any company made a product designed to attack such a frantic mess. I was seriously contemplating grabbing the giant sponge I use to wash the cars with or the wet/dry vacuum to assist me in sopping up this horrific endeavor. It was as if I was looking at the aftermath of an all night whiskey-and-laxative party, and somebody had forgotten to stock up on toilet paper.
I was repulsed, but was quite impressed that the diaper’s elastic bands had created a tight enough seal around his legs and waist to contain this destructive force of nature that mere minutes before dwelt deep within my son’s bowels. The lack of leakage lulled me into a false sense of security, failing to prepare me for the pure evil that lurked within the cottony confines of my son’s Pampers.
I can only assume that this is a sick shared cosmic joke that all unsuspecting new parents must fall prey to.
