Michael R. Barrick's blog

When I was about 12 or so I read a series of thirteen short stories. The stories themselves didn't stick with me, but the prologue to them did.

The author explained that he had been on a flight from Capetown to Cairo in the 1970's and the plane had stopped for refuelling in Uganda (which was under Idi Amin at the time). On the tarmack, in the hottest part of the afternoon, was a white woman and boy of about twelve. The woman was wearing an elegant evening dress and the boy was wearing a tuxedo.

From my former boss:

Sorry to bug you... I have tried to avoid wherever possible. We have hit a problem with the T-Net today that Trevor [This would be "the Doctor" - MB] has not been able to resolve...

It took the MCSE a whole week after launch to break it. I'm impressed. I expected him to bork it up during testing.

Knowing that the Doctor is functionally illiterate and will send no less than four responses to every one e-mail I've taken a lesson from my divorce — my response:

Give names to the people you see every day but won't talk to lest you then end up feeling obligated to talk to them every day. For example, I have "The Lunchbox Tard" (a mentally handicapped man that carries one of those huge 1930's steelworker-type lunch boxes big enough to double as a cat-carrier), "Other Tie Guy" (a man about ten years older than me that so far is the only other person I've seen wearing a tie to work), "EMO girl" (a high school kid in PoMo that looks like every single girl on MySpace), etc.. Someone else has probably dubbed me "Blackberry Guy".

Ginger beef from Confucious Says for dinner. Non-negotiable. :-p

I seem to have picked up a fun chest-cold over the holidays. Fortunately for my productivity the pseudoephedrine hydrocloride component of the drugs that are keeping me from coughing my lungs out is also compensating for the maybe three hours of broken sleep I got last night. Conveniently there is a drug store across the street so I am well stocked on what's needed to get through my day at work. Ginger beef is required to help shake this.

Guess where people are going to get off based on what they are wearing and carrying. For example: brown hiking boots, faded blue jeans and faded blue dreads, and a backpack large enough to sleep six = Commercial/Broadway Station.

Oringinal post: http://mbarrick.livejournal.com/685572.html

January:

• Started the year out getting stupid-drunk at Sin City and making an ass of myself
• Had to make a presentation upon which hinged my job and realized five minutes in that the whole process was lip-service and I was fucked. This was verified when I was subsequently handed my already-prepared "retention package" letter giving me eight months to undo everything I had done in my last three years at work.
• I made a "Welcome to Siberia" demotivational poster

February: