Title: Killing time until I drive
Music du jour: Mix of techno/dance MP3's, heavy on the AbFab
Today's Stupid Luser Trick
vanyel: luser removed all entreis in /etc/passwd except for the user acct that her test program needed vanyel: for "security!"
Road Trip!
I am working like a slave to get everything done I need to have done today so I can leave for Kansas. I realized on Wednesday that Monday is Memorial Day. I'm so not used to having holidays off being a sysadmin that it hadn't even occurred to me. I'm a veteran; you'd think I'd remember. (Our HR director informed me that our senior vice president is forbidding anyone from coming into work on Monday. To that I must say: werd.) As soon as I realized I was up for a three day weekend, I made arrangements to get the hell out of Dodge until Monday evening. Like I'd have an extra day and not go see Cynthia. Hah. It's a good thing, because our next scheduled visit was the weekend of the 17th of June, which is way too damn far off for my state of mind.
Marcie Talks to Cute Women
Our general counsel, who is a lovely woman who wears power suits and reminds me very much of Kerry Stuart for some reason, is having a craving for bruschetta. I don't know why. She described bruschetta to me looking like someone having a religious experience: eyes closed, hands raised slightly, a rapturous expression on her face. "It's chopped tomatoes with onions, garlic and little olive oil. You spread it on a piece of French or Italian bread, with a little strong cheese," -- here she waved her arms expressively -- "and you have some wine with it, and oohhhh, it's SOOOO good," she recited breathlessly. She settled down a bit and came out of her bruschetta-induced trance, and remarked thoughtfully, "Although I have no idea where to get good bruschetta in Boulder."
"This being Boulder," I said, "there must be some place good. Several, in fact."
"Yes, but I don't know where. I'm going to be calling all these places: 'Do you have good bruschetta? No? Thank you!' I just don't understand... it's only ten in the morning, Joy!" she laughed.
Yes, the urge to learn how to cook just to make her bruschetta was strong.
She's a lot of fun. We had lunch together the other day at Great Harvest, which is a little hippie-run bread store in Boulder. I may have mentioned it before, but it's so nice to have girls to hang out with again. After moving to Colorado, I could count my (local) chick friends on one hand. It sucked. My soul suffers for lack of female companionship, and I don't mean sexual either, smartasses. I am firmly convinced that female friendship is a deep and wonderful gift, and that every woman needs at least one really good girl friend.
My best friends are Jennifer and Cynthia; unfortunately, they're both too far off for me. Jennifer and I have been friends since our freshman year of college... oh boy, have we gone through some shit together. She's my soulmate, really. It's hard for me to believe it's been ten years in August since we met, and harder still to realize that we'll likely never live in the same part of the country again, must less the same town. Jen was my shadow sophomore year of college, or maybe I was hers; we went everywhere together. Jen is one of the reasons I still believe in God. You don't get a friend like her every day; if you're lucky, you have one friend like her in your lifetime. I would say I'd die for her, and I would, but it's too much of a cliche; anyway, she'd rather I live. She's the type of friend who you know will always be around, will never judge you and will always love you, and you don't even have to think about it.
Here's where my lack of skill with words and language frustrates me. If I were a poet or a "real" writer, I could maybe tell you what she means to me. I can't; I can only fumble around and repeat myself.
Cynthia is the only other person whose relationship with me is like that of Jen's. Since I compare all my new friends to Jennifer, much to their detriment, this is saying something. She is a whole 'nother story, one that I will tell very soon.
I'm sure this is terribly interesting to all you people out there, who probably couldn't care less. Heh. But if you do, good. I love you all.
In Other News...
When next we meet, dear readers, it will likely be Monday night. I rarely get any updates done during Cynthia visits. You know this; you are prepared. Talk amongst yourselves.
-- marcie.