Terrible Analogies

It’s 5pm, and the boss calls a meeting.  He doesn’t does have an agenda.  I swear to Gawd he just wants to hear his own voice, and I just want to go home.

He brings up the subject of remote sites, ODBC configurations, the football game from this past weekend, and asks us if we wanted to get together for happy hour.

I’m looking up at the clock and it’s fast approaching 6pm.  I should have been home half an hour ago.

He then begins to talk about NIC teaming, fault tolerances, fail-over plans, and whether or not he should install a pond in his backyard. He has concerns about data center security, getting more SAN storage, can I write a batch script to auto configure a SQL value key, and then he goes on about a hangnail that’s been bothering him today.

And I’m looking up at the clock as he jabbers on about mandatory lunches, eating at your desk and chiding people for using the color printer.  It’s nearing 6:30pm, and I just want to scream:

You ever have one of those days?

It’s 9pm at the time of this writing, and after two days of working overtime I’m a bit beat.  We’re trying to implement SCCM into our network and things aren’t going well.  Stupid client either doesn’t want to push to the servers or just simply refuses to install.

I think I’ll just relax tonight, crack open a beer and watch this mesmerizing video about a guy who makes these awesome kinetic sculptures.  Now here’s someone who has life figured out.  He’s taken what he loves to do and makes a living from it, and people honestly appreciate what he’s able to create with his own two hands.  You have to admire the creativity and skill of this artist.

Now, if only I could get a job writing for a magazine.  Heck, I’d even take a job writing for a crummy 10-page Sunday newspaper insert like Parade, USA Weekend or Vista.  I’d write deep, meaningful articles like “Ten Way To Tell That You’re A Lousy Self-Lover”, “Socks: Comfortable Cotton or Fascist Conspiracy?”, and “100 Other Uses For Popsicle Sticks”.

(HermanTurnip’s face goes slump, and he gets that “far away” look in his eyes as he stares off into the distance and daydreams of the perfect job…)

But I guess for now I’ll have to be content with working in the IT field…

Oh…on a side note, I’ve never owned the Eagles Hotel California or Public Enemy’s It Takes A Nation Of Millions To Hold Us Back until tonight, and I have to say that both albums are everything that they’re advertised to be. If you don’t have these records/CDs, you can only blame yourself. You have been warned…

Happy Friday!

You ever have one of those days where you wake up late for work, hit traffic, nearly get into several accidents, forget to drop off your baby at the sitters and only discover this fact after after you pull into the parking lot at work.  You then have to drive all the way back to the sitters, then turn around to go back to work, hit traffic again, finally pull into work, then realize that you forgot your lunch at home.

And your wallet.

And your badge that grants you entry into work.

You then have to stand outside and shadow somebody into the building hoping that they don’t think you’re trying to engage in a bit of corporate espionage.

As luck would have it, as you round the corner there’s the boss sitting in your cubicle wondering where the heck you’ve been for the past hour.  He then asks you for the report that you promised him “first thing in the morning”, hoping that you’d get into work early today to finish it.

After spending a busy and hungry day at work you drive to the sitters and pick up the kid, hit traffic (again), get home and forget to turn on the stove like the wife asked you to and wind up having leftovers because when you finally did turn on the stove you misread the instructions and set it 100 degrees too high and burnt the pizza.

Finally, after sitting down to write a blog post you discover that the scanner drivers on your computer are no longer there because you recently re-imaged your laptop.  You spend twenty minutes hunting down the driver disk, finally locating it buried at the bottom of your desk drawer, slam it into the computer, only to discover that your laptop is no longer recognizing CDs.

In the end you throw your hands up in the air, curse your luck, post a lame video, then saunter over to the fridge and grab a beer, turn on the television and melt into the couch, thankful that the day’s finally over.

Here’s my daily afternoon routine:

1- Get home from work
2- Eat dinner
3- Play with baby / cat / imaginary friend
4- Contemplate what it would be like to win the lotto
5- Wash the dishes
6- Take shower
7- Write my blog post

But…today was different.  Today, when I attempted to log on to my blog, I was greeted with the “beach ball of death”.  WTF?  The wheels were spinning, but the blog wouldn’t load.

Calling my hosting solution I was told that they were having “issues with the server”, and that somebody was working on it.  Apparently they’ve been having issues with my server off and on all afternoon.

As I write this it’s 10pm and my site is sometimes up, sometimes down.

I am a sad blogger…

I can only hope that this post goes live at my traditional 1:01am publishing time…

Note: No, this is not a picture of Tyler…

With an estimated 56,000-84,000 barrels of oils a day pouring out of the damaged well in the Gulf Coast, and with President Obama poised to address the nation this coming Tuesday, it seems as if we’ve blown past the “worst case” scenario and have careened head-first into the dark gaping maw of disastrous uncertainty.

This is the type of event that changes nations.

BP is doing its best to white-wash the news by imposing virtual marshall law on the Gulf Coast area, forbidding both the curious and the professional from any and all hotspots.  BP has even gone so far as to purchase key search words on Google and Yahoo in an attempt to deflect negative press.

Still, pictures of the spill are getting out, and the damage is extensive.  The loss of wildlife is disheartening.  As of this post, the BP spill is currently standing at 66 million barrels of oil.  That’s six times larger than the Exxon Valdez oil tanker disaster.

Shoot.  I’m not one to really take up arms, march in the street, and rally around a cause, but this disaster is so unprecedented and catastrophic that one would have to be truly dead inside not to recognize the problem and the desperate need for a solution.

If BP can’t control an oil spill, how would they control a cup of spilt coffee?

This would be funny if it weren’t so sad…