Jon's a Right Bastard and Overheard Nerds Suck

Here I am, sitting at work alone. This is my first weekend back, and Jon has the first two days of it in Red Hat training. I don’t mind. I could ask for help, but the work is just busy enough to keep me going. What I do mind is Jon’s revenge. As he’s pointed out in numerous posts on his blog, we work in an operations center filled to brimming with nerds. Nerds like to talk. In general, the way nerds talk is very annoying, especially to people that have no interest in what the nerds are talking about. I feel for Brian, having to sit through conversation after conversation between Jon and myself on the topic of comic books. It’s no wonder he jumped at the chance to move desks (okay, he didn’t exactly jump, it was more like he got dragged kicking and screaming.) I recently pointed out the voice of one of the annoying nerds that never really got to Jon in the past while he mentioned a few that have. It is way too easy to hear them all when sitting alone at the desk. I feel surrounded by the inane chatter of nerds that know absolutely everything about anything. All of the annoying ones are here today, too. Not only the one I pointed out to Jon, but each other one he’s pointed out himself. Thanks, Jon. Your revenge on me is tenfold.

Not only that, but, and I hope I’m not stealing any thunder here, Jon proved his nerdish superiority over me in Red Hat today. He passed the mandatory portion of the Red Hat Certified Technician test today and may have even passed the second portion. This would make him one of the few people from the NOC that passed the test the first time round. I hope he made it, the bastard. Them’s some good NOC nerd bragging rights there.

Soccer Sucks

WHOOOOOAAAAAA!

That was the sound that literally made me jump minutes ago. Some guy in shorts kicked a ball into a net. Yay. Sports fans will forever mystify me. From where does your obsession with men and balls come? I’m not even making a gay joke here, I really don’t understand. What does that GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAALLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL signify in the scheme of things? So the team that you root for, composed of people that just happen to live in the same country, just happens to kick a ball into a net. So what? What did that gain you? What did that gain anyone? Please don’t try to dress any reply up in patriotism. Sports have nothing to do with patriotism. Athletic people are born everywhere. Their existence in a particular country’s team is part of the genetic lottery. It has nothing to do with the country or its ideals. I am fuming just sitting here listening to the sports nerds spouting off behind me. Pointless dialog is to be expected in the NOC, but the level of volume and passion is inexplicable. I have never received a satisfactory explanation behind any sport fan’s obsession. You might as well be in an Apple Jacks commercial. “I just like ‘em because I do.” Fine, like them, just keep it down, dammit. Some people are trying to read comics here.

Houseguests and People That Just Won't Shut It

Originally posted on March 10, 2006

So, Stacy's good friend, Nicole, flew into town from Utah yesterday. She'll be staying with us for the next week. Her 5 year old, Jon, has a piano recital in the MD on Saturday (long story.) To celebrate her arrival, Stacy invited some of Nicole's old friends to dinner at Joe's Crab Shack.

I'm going to preface this next bit with a little story. We have two parking spots in front of our house. We have two vehicles. This generally works out as well as you'd expect. We have a guest lot for, you guessed it, guests. That lot is behind the townhouses kitty-corner to us. In the ultimate wisdom of our HOA, there is no footpath from the guest lot to the town houses. Instead, they've installed a state-of-the-art mudhole complete with the latest in slip-n-slide terrain technology and the hottest European low-hanging brush. One day a few months ago, I came home after a particularly brutal day at work to find that my parking spot was taken by a guest of one of Stacy's Creative Memories events. I stewed and cursed as I slogged my way through the guest lot mudhole, arms laden with the detritus of my work day. I was furious, unreasonably so. I stalked into the living room and growled out a few snarky comments about my parking spot to the general gathering. Apparently, I terrified one of Nicole's friends, Kim. For some reason, a gruff, biker-bearded, overweight man storming into the house and snarling didn't fill her with a sense of security.

Kim was one of the people that showed up for the celebratory dinner last night. Honestly, I felt bad about my behavior that night months ago. Justified maybe, but bad. She ended up sitting between Nicole and I. I offered my apologies for my rude behavior and she dismissed it as the venting from a bad day. I still felt somewhat guilty, so I endeavored to be as nice as I could to her for the evening. This was difficult. It was difficult in the way that giving a cat a bath is difficult. She immediately took hold of the conversation and strangled it like Homer does The Boy. I hate shop talk. I hate office politics talk even more. Let's just say my digestion was not aided by the continuous stream of work-related drama flowing forth from the inexhaustable fountain that was Kim. By the time dessert arrived I had finally managed to tune her out. I think I did my penance last night. I have been washed clean! PRAISE KIM!