Uhrrrr?

So I was minding my own business when a colleague asked if I had a blog. And I was like, uhrrrr, why? Did you find it?

And now I feel weird.

It's not that I'm shocked by the revelation that the world wide web isn't private. I made the conscious decision to use my name and talk about real things. It's that, I mean, doesn't everyone know that we SNEAKILY search for and read our friends' blogs and continue to SNEAKILY read them without telling them in a desperate attempt to uncover their deepest darkest secrets?

I kid.

For serious, what gives?

P.S. Maybe it's just a random question and you're not reading this, Adrian*.

*Name changed to blahblahblah.

Really?

"Norain, you make the world smile.
Remember that."

That made my heart melt. Because sometime I wonder if I'm making a difference. And times like this just erase every nagging feel that I'm not doing it right. Thanks for the hearterflutterbies, Larissa. People like you make it easy to love.

Armed and dangerous

An email I just sent to everyone in the office. Grrrr!

Hello.

So here I was, sitting and working away, with a random playlist blasting away when I heard some alarm go off. It sounded distant and I thought, "Hmmm. Must be some vehicle in the public car park going bonkers."

But it went on for yonks. Then it occurred to me, "Shit. That's our alarm."

Scramble, run, panic, frown.

True enough, it was. And now either Alex* or I have to stay here and convince the Cisco guards that we weren't up to no good.

To that person who armed the alarm, would it kill you to check that there are people around? It's way after 7pm. The blinking lights in the Creative Department and 2nd floor are on. Walking out of the office, you would have noticed it and would have enough time to go back and disarm it.

And even if you're a scaredy cat like me, it would have been polite to send a mass email in the first place just to see if anyone's here.

Come on. Some courtesy please.

Norain

P.S. If it were nasty little pixies up to mischief and messing around with the system, then I take my rant back and request that something be done about these buggers.

*Name changed to protect that guy I just wrote about.

Busted!

It's 6:20ish pm on a Sunday evening and I'm in the office for some unfinished business. On my way to the restroom earlier, I noticed that the lights on the 2nd to 4th floors are on. So I thought, it's either scary things coming to get me or one of my colleagues snuck in without me noticing.

So I braved myself to go to the 2nd floor to check.

And what do I find?

Alex* surfing for porn. Nekkid man porn.

Oopsy.

*Name changed to protect the guilty.

The sweetest thing

Where you at, ladypants?
I have a hearty missing of my Norain.
We must become wealthy, to finance your store.

spiffypants, we will get there. Keep me posted on how you're doing in LA with snagging that sugar mommy and finding a girl to love on the side. I don't think my super secret plans to wealth are working out.

Pfft.

STFU please, thanks.

So this freelancer has been getting on my nerves. And in his continued display of misguided exuberant verbosity and buggaration, he comes to me today to rattle on about some changes that he's to do.

"So can we settle on the nomenclature now?"

"The what?"

"The nomenclature. It's jargon for the link names."

Dude. I know what it means. What I meant to say was – perhaps I should have just been blunt – shut the fuck up and get straight to the point. Big words don't get the job (in this case, communication) done.

Spaz.