fr_defenestrato: (Default)
D-3:05. Printing became an issue when the office filled up and everybody was printing stuff. Like every proposal shop I've ever worked at, there's no dedicated proposal printer, which is 17 different kinds of stupid all kludged together.

I finally had all my stuff printed; the costing guys finally said they were done and could live with their bill of materials and their pricing summary; I'm walking into the conference room where all our binders are set up (also no dedicated proposal production SPACE), and my boss says "There's a problem with the pricing; don't let anything go out yet."

And somehow this is my problem too.

Splatcom's pres, Frank Gymnast, is SO not happy with this prop. He's already called a meeting for a week from today to debrief on everything that went wrong and how to avoid it in future. I'll have a few choice words on the subject.

Meanwhile my mom called this a.m. and left her second messages in 24 hours, sounding pretty dire; but I already knew the news from [livejournal.com profile] eloquentwthrage's LJ: my grandmom is hospitalized and maybe gonna die. That's nice news to color the tail end of this horrific proposal process.
fr_defenestrato: (death sign)
The lunatic (I've heard it said) is on the grass,
Or, as my tainted grandpappy was wont to say,
"They're all on that there pot!" And one Txgbn Day,
Around the turkeyed table, this old man was crass
Enough to share his dream: a crowded, chained morass
Of African-Americans were on their way
By steamship "back to Africa"; but sadly, they
All went down with their ship—and he thought this a gas.
The Floyd was not for Pop-pop, nuh-uh, nosirree.
The band that they were in was playing different tunes
Than all those hoary hymns he probably still croons
With Jeebus on Cloud Nine, those blissful lamb's-blood odes
To Christian charity. And who'da thought that he
Had dark forebodings, too? [My brother's head explodes.]


[for John Steely Geise, 1910 - 2002]
fr_defenestrato: (Default)
I had a decent weekend. TMI )
fr_defenestrato: (SCL)
Short version: Camping was great; Cheese Lord concert was very good; I am tired.

Long version: Grabbed my rental car at Reagan Thursday night, loaded up back at the Irv, and drove without stopping to Blue Rocks Family Campground in Lenhartsville, Pa. Arrived minutes after 1 a.m. and called Joe who, with Hugh, drove down from the campsite to fetch me and my stuff. Stayed up talking to Joe and Hugh and Rob Lynch (new to me) and they crashed one by one until Joe and I turned in circa 2:30. Joe's pop-up camper is really pretty nice... sleeps three comfortably.
Read more... )
fr_defenestrato: (Default)
I'm about to leave work after a 4-day week, head to Washington National Airport (renamed after a national airhead), rent a small weehicle, stop home for stuffs, and drive to scenic Lenhartsville, Pa. for 3(ish) days of camping with some of the folks from Camp Catatonia (from the Philly Folk Fest) and some of they friends. I sha'n't be Web-enabled during this time. Unless somebody new shows up, I am the token fag of the bunch. This is fine; the guys are totally cool. For sleeping arrangements, last time I shared a really spacious tent with Joe and Bill, but this time Bill cannae make it and Joe says there's no point in pitching a tent because he just bought a pop-up camper, which has room for the two of us. So, yes, I just can't stop giggling telling people that Joe is sharing his pop-up with me.

This is a straight, married guy who, since the year we met at folkfest, has professed a remarkably level of affection for me. His public persona is lewd and lascivious at almost all times, and that extended without any visible effort to flirting with me. (Still, despite sharing sleeping quarters and a penchant for hard liquor, we have thus far behaved as gentlemen.)

Last time camping with these guys it was Bill's bachelor party, and the bunch of us went to a straight strip club. I got about as drunk as I ever get on Oban single malt Scotch—so drunk that [livejournal.com profile] bxiie got into first-responder mode dealing with me (which was actually quite wonderful to witness/participate in... he's really good at what he does, even though he must have been at least 2/3rds crocked his own bad sef).

I gonna hafta split camp late Sunday morning to get back to DC for the Cheese Lord concert at 5 p.m. Probably need to return the car before the show... Depending on the shenanigans the night before, this could get ugly... Anyway, I'm off. Wish me luck. Well, wish that I shall have had luck by the time I catch up here.

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