Testimonial: "None of you seem aware of quite how bad you are. I mean I'm pretty outspoken on how bad the internet has gotten, but this is up there with the worst."
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Sounds like a spot of depression (the first bit).
And the second bit sucks. I am sorry to hear that this is happening.
Well, she did want kids a few months ago. She still does but at this point would rather adopt. Which was not against either way. But I figured that she and I would reproduce at some point. She said we're both different people now with new priorities, and for her having children is not one of those priorities.
For the moment.
Granted. It's a good point, she may change her mind about it again. I guess it was just a bit of a shock to me.
You work in an environment envisioned by Hunter Thompson, but none of you are on LSD.
Hello, I am back. I am feeling entirely too well to be at work, which is never a good sign. Mike the engineer was trying to explain something about maximum temperatures for confined space entry, and I was trying to explain to him that I wrote the procedure. This led Lilly to ask where I got my information because it's very inconvenient that we have to let things cool down for 96 hours, and a 150C shouldn't be TOO bad, if they laid cardboard down to crawl on.
Naturally, I refused. Mike was getting more and more agitated. People were getting information from people who weren't him. He started making a low keening noise, like a starving dog....It make us all look at him in horror. The poor bastard had reached crush depth, and it was only 7:45AM on a Monday. He had blood in his nose, and his eyes were rolling around and around and around, trying to look at everyone at once. Baby Engineer and I were trying to quietly make book on whether or not he was having a stroke, when he suddenly vomited all over the table, killing the PC projector, which shorted to death on his vomit without a single spark or pop. It just quietly died.
Mike began screaming about how nobody respects his knowledge and his PE stamp, with blood streaming out of his nose and vomit caked on his chin and shirt. Then he ran out the door and got into his truck, and roared out of the parking lot, howling all the way.
All of this made dealing with the residual brain flukes easier, let me tell you. I was just a paranoid asshole with a headache. Mike was doing a full-on nervous breakdown wobbler, old school. It's made me like him a little. Almost.