| July 8 ,1997 | |||||||||||||||
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| Dissociated Press | |
7:06 pm
This is your roving reporter Andrew, coming to you LIVE from Portland, Oregon. The political climate
in this city has been unusually tense as Andrew Denyes, local unknown web administrator, prepares to select
a candidate for his next meal. "The swansons turkey dinner is looking pretty lean today," he said in a press
conference at an area 7-11 earlier this evening. Andrew has eaten TV dinners from the 7-11 nearly every night that he has
spent in Portland, citing his lack of cooking skill and indifference to nutritional value as the main reasons behind this choice.
He eventually selected a Hungry Man brand dinner, of the Fried Chicken variety. "It's pretty cheap, and you get a lot of food," reasoned the 21 year old bachelor. "God, I'm so sick of
these things," he added.
I'm back down in Portland, damp city of the mildly grouchy. Somehow, I expected it to look a little different than it did 2
weeks ago when I left. Of course, it is exactly the same. The bus ride back was uninteresting, unless you consider an endless stream of
camper-van lots as points of interest. I stumbled into my apartment expecting to find a family of transients squatting. Rats. It was the
same as when I left. I grabbed the wad of community notices and dropped my luggage just inside the door. "285" said one notice.
"Ah," said one Andrew, "This must be about my moving out." Yes it was. It explained that the move-out preinspection will take place on wednesday,
July 2nd. "Hmm. That's not in the future," observed me. Sure enough, someone had indeed been | |
| Runaway | |
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The thing most people said to me today at work was "Thanks for coming back!" Like they really
expected me to just leave and never return. That's ridiculous. With $300 worth of my books there, yuh huh.
So anyway, Tiffany said "You look really happy. That's the way everyone looks right before they quit. When are you
quitting?" I said "I'm leaving on the 15th." That little dialogue repeated itself throughout the day with various
cow-orkers, with varying levels of response. Mostly it resulted in the look of fear and despair, as in my Boss' case. "Sorry...
you CAN'T leave!" Oh well. I found myself being justified in my decision every 5 minutes. "Your business cards didn't get
printed because no one knew your official title." My official title is OUTTAHERE, mofos.
So, I'm gonna fix what I can in my final week, then forget about everything. Whee! I can't HELP but look happy, it's as if my life has become illuminated with sunshine once more. (Actually, I dislike REAL sunshine, but you get the idea.) Now I know what Hankins must have felt like. (And Jason, and Mary, and Chad, and Dave, and Ed, and on and on...) The future is bright! I can work for anyone I want! I'm free to pursue my own goals and happy dreams! Yay! | |
| Whump! | |
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Okay, okay, enough of that happy scrappy hero crap, I'm still being fed mSQL in my last days with GST.
Fortunately, if I just waffle long enough, that problem will cease to be mine! I'm not sure if I was being
guilt tripped or not by the manager of the project. I can't tell, I've developed a high tolerance for that sort of thing.
Anyway, it didn't occur to me until later that I might've been expected to be apologetic and sorry, so when he said "we're going to be
in a real tough spot..." I said "Yup, you might lose the account. That'd be a great business case to hire more programmers." (while grinning helplessly)
People I'm going to miss here: Derek, Nate, Kevine, Brandon, Taj, and Rick. People I'm not going to miss: Janis, Edd, Big scary receptionists, and those customers that send me questions like this. My page is currently being mirrored at http://food.toxin.org/asd and http://flarp.toxin.org/asd/. Another thing I'm learning is setting up a mirror site via proxy_module. How interesting to you! Well, bye. Time to muse on the emptiness of being in the emptiness of my old place. |
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