Work work work

I used to have a picture of Kung Fu Mike, figleafed by a laptop but otherwise starkers, which had that title.  I suspect it’s on the old computer back at Planet Bachelor; I must recover it at some point.

I had a very productive day yesterday, having drawn some of my bile during my long conversation with Patricia, and then I had a very pleasant evening with one half of the Minions of Loki, since we ate at the Penny, which is more or less halfway between her place and mine on Hastings.  The Penny is the very model of a Chinese greasy spoon.  I had sufficiency of leftovers for another two meals, yay.

I need help from a Mac geek to figure out why I am having problems with making my RAR or avi files run.  I suspect a compression issue.

Saturday is the company Christmas party…. Katie K and I are going.  She is planning on wearing a dress and getting an updo, which is a lot like saying Eddie Izzard has given up on high heels.  I am trying to figure out how I’m supposed to acquire a second hand tux between now and then; I think it’s more likely I’ll just wear what I wore last year.  It makes me look immensely fat and I have to take the whole thing off to take a whiz, but it’s comfy and dressier than what I normally sport… as Catherine once remarked, “Oh, Allegra, you dress like a grad student” which, considering I was raised by grad students, seems no stretch.  As for the tux, I can picture the William Hamilton cartoon with a woman sporting a tux with no difficulty, which is probably why, besides the expense, I am resisting.  There are apparently going to be Engineers in Tuxes at the Christmas (oh hell, the Company Holiday Cheer) party.  The following Saturday we’ll be going to Katie K’s company holiday buntoss, the biggest difference being there are TWO free drink tokens, and people will be bringing dogs.  I am OBVIOUSLY working for the wrong company.

Daughter Katie’s 19th passed without incident; Dax gave her a handmade plaque with her name on it, so it sounds like he was doing something to improve the shining hour while she was gone.

It’s been quite frosty up here in the mornings; walking to work has been an adventure.

By copy to Chipper, on the subject of Christmas songs, have you ever heard Dominic the Donkey? I think you have to be Italian to be familiar with it; Gianna at work exposed me to it and now I can’t get the little beggar out of my head.  It’s all about how Santa has to deliver prezzies with a donkey because reindeer cannot climb ‘the hills of I-ta-ly!’.  It was a new one on me.

Saturday will be a busy busy day for me, because the Dunnettfolk will be Spitting over at Jan’s that day.  And Spits, as I must explain, are the names those events where Dunnett fans gather and eat and talk and drink and show slides of their trips to Dunnett places (like Iceland and the Orkneys and the west coast of Africa and Cairo and the Crimea and Russia and Bruges).  My father’s eyes glazed over at gather.