February 17th, 2006

bored

a week in the life of

So two really fantastic people sent me LJ chocolates, which is the coolest thing *ever*. Thank you. I didn't see them and then I did and it was--seriously a surprise. A lovely, welcome, thank you so much you have no idea how much I needed that surprise.

Also, when did LJ get an autodraft save function? *blinks at message* Right, carrying on.

Okay, so i've been kinda-sorta avoiding my friendslist, in that way where I started looking again right before bed last night since Monday. No, no deep trauma, unless you count filling out pre-requisition forms and finally, really understanding the horror that is government bureaucracy when all you want is a new chair.

Here is the short version of my Tuesday.

1.) Chick says, I want a new chair!
2.) Emails super. He says yes.
3.) Super emails me. Make it happen, jenn.
4.) I say, you are kidding me.

That's just the informal stuff. For those of you who are lucky enough not to work in government, here is how the magic happens.

1.) I fill out a prerequisition form, detailing what we want (chair), exacting details (blue, sliding seat, blah), where to buy it from, how much it costs, how many we want, and a good reason we should have it. I did not say, so we don't have to sit on the floor, or are you stupid, why do you think people want chairs? Because I am not an idiot. Mostly.

2.) Send it to super, who sends it back with a nod.

3.) Send it to E, who is the one with the actual power to send a prerequisition form. You see the word there, right? Pre. Requisition. All this for the pre work.

4.) Sent to Superuser, who sends out for a bid on the chair, even though we know the price and know where to get it. Gets the bid back, decides if we really need to not sit on the floor, *then* fills out the requisition form. Which still requires approval again, from somewhere, and then the actual requisition is sent.

This is the short version, for things below five thousand dollars, which only requires six to ten people to sign off on it. As you can probably guess, I asked Super if I could requisitioin a hot tub for office morale, since Amazon.com had a couple for under five thousand. He hasn't said no.

Seriously, I hate my life. My rabbit is eating my hair, Child keeps putting Junior the Freaking Bearded Dragon on my knee when I'm not looking and his tiny, tiny claws are making me leap and scream, at which time I get lectured about traumatizing the lizard, our live cricket supply keeps dying before it goes down the gullet of the aforementioned Freaking Bearded Dragon, and we upgraded him to bigger crickets and for some reason, I cannot keep that damn terrarium warm. We live in *Texas* for God's sake. But a heating lamp, a heating pad, a rock, and teh warmest part of the house? Not keeping it above ninety. Also, we were lectured on the fact that we can't use sand in the terrarium of our Freaking Bearded Dragon From Hell, or it would get sand in its gullet and die.

Bearded Dragons are native to the desert! What. The. Hell? Is it too good for its natural habitat now?

So now the Freaking Bearded Dragon has an astroturf terrarium lining (Astroturf. Lining.), I bought a leash for Reggie the Homicidal Rabbit so I could take him outside and he tried very hard to chew out my collarbone during the horror of putting it on him, and I'm surfing Amazon.com for a--a *pet playpen* so I can take The Rabbit That Does Not Love Me But Eats My Hair (I pulled an inch out of his lying mouth! I thought he was nuzzling me! Until the sounds of chewing began.) outside to play without risking him getting away or eating something he shouldn't or, I don't know, climbing a tree and leaping off to kill me when he's gained sufficient height and I want a new life right now. Now. Nownownownow oh my god when I was eight, I never ever saw myself scared to go into the den because of reptiles and wearing a sweater over my hair when I feed the rabbit and filling out prerequisition forms for ridiculous chairs so we don't sit on the floor. I mean, I saw myself doing a lot of swinging adn being allowed to eat cookies whenever I wanted, and I hate to say this, but at this point, that just isnt' as much fun as it should be.

Also, two more jobs like the one I turned down showed up this week and I pretty much put my head down on my desk and tried not to cry. I'm not this good a person. I want. I want a lot. And I can't have and I know life isn't fair, but it shouldn't be this unfair either. And somehow, being strong enough to turn it down does not equal being strong enough not to be bitter.

Okay, now that my anger has been spilled--and this is only the stuff I can talk about without gibbering in helpless rage--

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atlantis

rec - the hunting of the snark by researchgrrrl

Okay, so I admit I have recced things where I had an honest suspicion the writer was on crack. By that, I mean the entire SGA fandom, who I love and think are my true people, who at any given time in a given conversation will discuss tiny Wraith babies, changing everyone into penguins, how to get John pregnant this time (emphasis italics, this time) and whether or not I'm allowed to add cannibalism to a fic to see what happens, and whether or not Little!John can whore himself to all of Atlantis when he's sixteen. Or at least the team. Or at least the command staff.

And let me just say, all of you are filthy, filthy perverts, and oh my God I love you all.

But there comes a time when the crack is of unknown and amazing quality and you just have to read it, becasue you can't believe it, and then you think, in horror--oh my God this works. Why does this work? How is this working? OH MY GOD WHAT IS THIS AND WHY DO I LOVE IT? Because I do. It's *good* and it's *funny*, and it's so damn--I don't know that English encompasses my squee for this story.

Yeah.

The Hunting of the Snark by researchgrrrl - one, two and three, it's a House crossover, and no, I'm not, cannot say it, but oh God you have to read this. It is *so cool* and *so much fun* and so surreal and I am--I have no words.

We like her. We want to keep her. We would also like to ease her into SGA or SG1, because oh my God, I want to see what she'd do with them. And by we, I mean, me and Reggie the Homicidal Rabbit, because it sounds pretentious if I use we just referring to myself. I'm not actually sure he has an opinion on the subject, though.

But yes, go read and marvel at the way that reality just bends sometimes.