New Song

Dance around a fire

and the fire is you

I cast a shadow

Nine feet tall

I could fly

Up into the sky

Never feel the pull

of gravity at all

Wish it was mine, wish it was mine, whoa baby x 2

He said

Wish it was mine? You crossed a line

You’ve got some misconceptions you must redefine

You cannot own me, you cannot buy me

Do not go there, do not try me

I’ll defend every inch of skin that I have got

Pack up your delusions woman I cannot be caught
She said

Such a violent answer for such a peaceful man

But I was put upon this earth to help you if I can

And only you must judge if the price is set too high

But I love a man who trusts himself and that is not a lie

Wish it was mine, wish it was mine, whoa baby x 2

Off for a walk

Briefly:

  • I went out to the Golf Course with the folks last night.  We were gargling a liquid goodbye to Darryl and Dave, who had been with the company 17 and 11 years respectively.  I like and respect them both, but it’s Dave I’ll miss the most, because he is a complete sweetie and I ate lunch with him damned near every work day for five years.
  • I gave a neckrub to the guy who hired him away from my employer however; I too can live in hope.
  • I worked the entire table and gave everybody who wanted a neck rub same; excepting only that greedy oinker RobofNine, who’d already had one that day.
  • At the beginning of the day I gave Burnt a package of Buffy Valentines; he indicated pleasure in a deadpan sort of way.
  • The Dalai Jarmo gave an extremely amusing and highly accurate description of what happens when a slender, intelligent and goodlooking female new hire gets dropped into an engineering department.  Punch line, “Every time I turned around, some guy had pulled out a bigger crimping tool.”
  • Paul and Keith came out!  Keith had a Crantini. Paul tried to pay, but I made sure I gave him my share.  Paul was especially happy because there were not one but TWO flying buddies there, being RobofNine and Jeff F., who now works with Susan N., who was ALSO at the Course, and… well, you get the idea that the high tech community in Vancouver is about a thousand strong, and you have to mind your p’s and q’s.
  • When I got home, Keith, who is a marvel among children, had provided Dun Tot from St Germain bakery in Metrotown.  My happiness may be imagined.  No sign of Katie; her door is closed though, and I don’t know where she is for sure.
  • Two cow-irkers gave me detailed and horrific descriptions of why they are now so miserable that quitting without another job to go to seems like a viable option. They are both solid contributors to the org so I am shaking my head.  I just started working with one of them so I only recently came to an understanding of his value.  The other one I only knew by his reputation from other people, but it was solid.  It was a poke in the eye, lemme tell you.
  • One of my other cherished cow-irkers called me an evil genius.  Happy sigh!
  • Brother Jerome was there, as was the Otto-man. However, Tom and Mike couldn’t make it so we only reunited one half of the original lunch bunch.
  • Dave also described his exit interview.  Man, I can only wish I’d been a fly on the wall.

Well, it’s 6:30 in the morning, and unless I actually put on a coat and go for a much needed walk, it ain’t gonna happen.  May you all have a lovely day!

The ultimate challenge

Oh….. my….. Lord.

My brother has thrown down a gauntlet with a challenge of challenges.

He wants me to write a song to replace “The Happy Birthday Song” which is protected by … gulp …. copyright.

Okay, for everybody on this blog who has actually HEARD the Tapioca Song.

Happy Birthday!  Happy Birth…. day!

(Name of person) it’s time for us to celebrate

Happy Birthday!  Happy Birth…day!

Now it is time for you to cut the cake.

That’s the kid version.  But you can also substitute masturbate, find a date (or mate), meet your fate, inebriate, intoxicate, medicate, fly this crate (when it means they can go solo), accelerate (either, as in leave, or drive), hurry up and wait, and I don’t have my rhymin’ dictionary handy but you get the idear.

Sundry and Various

Buffy the Vampire Slayer valentines cards for a buck a pop???? Can such things be????  I have since heavily modified my valentines day list, although I still have a hundred of the blessed things to print out this weekend.

My travel derangements are now set; I’m arriving in TO on the redeye Thursday morning, and then I’m going to hang with some early risers, and then go hang with some not so early risers, and then I’m going to… joy of joys…. hang with the most excellent poet Dave Dowker and my buddy Sandy (aka Chipper on this blog).  You have NO NOTION how much I am looking for’ard to that.

I have sung my scurrilous new song to a variety of people, most of whom found it entertaining.

When Paul took Keith and I to the Chong Lum Hin the other night, Sue the proprietress and her husband fed us traditional Chinese soup … not the menu stuff, but incredibly medicinal soup. I only had a teacup’s worth of broth but it was so loaded with vitamins that I could feel my consciousness shifting.  Also they gave me pea greens with garlic, which is really yummy.  The soup is traditionally given to women who have just given birth, and they laughed their asses off when I innocently asked, “Who had a baby?”

valentine….

I am completely freaked out about a telephone conversation I had the other day, and all I can do is wait until I talk to the right person and get the story straight.   Phew, okay, that’s dealt with.  I should freak out more slowly or something.  Better now.
In the meantime, I’m the cic at work today and possibly tomorrow, everybody in tech has the crud, and I’m only finished printing out about 1/10th of my company Valentine cards. WHICH I’ll have you know I’m doing at home; I’m not scamming company resources to do it.
After sober consideration I have to give one to the CEO and the CFO, because both have them have spent money on food for me, and you have to acknowledge these things.  And actually the CEO bought me beer one time when I tagged along for a drinking session (hrr…) so he’ll get a really nice one.