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Bye, Meg.

She took off this afternoon. That gave me enough time to go to Eviljob (I now work--closely--with some peculiar people), go to my meeting, and meet Meg for a late farewell luncheon. And I gave her two new beads for the charm bracelet I also gave her. Neither of us believe in luck as such, but all the other poker players have a lucky this-and-that, and I guess since all of the cool kids are doing it... :-) Last time I gave her my lucky Bufus Buddah Frog and it didn't work. Before that, I gave her an orthodox ring (that she can't read and I had to translate), and a necklace with her name on it in Our Mother Tongue (that she can't read and I had to translate...where the hell was she when I was having to learn two alphabets, and two names for every number?), and they didn't work. Before *that*, I'm hazy. But basically none of the lucky things I've given her so far have done squat. Hopefully these charms will.

Not that I believe in it, or anything. I just hope she wins something, anything, so that I don't have to keep coming up with new stuff...this is getting expensive. Two of those dinky little charms cost me $30, and I still have my own to finish building. I tried to tell her to take Squoosh as a good luck charm, but she wouldn't; she said he'd try to Murder Death Kill the dealer and get her kicked off of the table.

Fine. Squooshable didn't want to go with you anyway. Hmmph.

Eviljob was...interesting. I'll have to devote more time to that later. I don't know about this. I'm now mere feet away from a very weird little man who called me on the phone (yes, from a few feet away) to ask me if I was mad at him. It must be that intimidating thing. I don't know, you know, who knows. Go figure. And I also have a view of the Not-Our-Office Admin (why is she *there*, then? Go figure.) that I kind if have a problem with. I'm nice to her, she's nice (enough) to me...she's just weird. I have a pile of theories about that, too. One of my work-friends (Five-O) thinks that she's got some problems, but maybe that's just us. So, in short, I'm still evaluating; the jury's out still.

My meeting was...weird. As usual. Nastypants has settled down greatly over the past few weeks; I think it's a result of having whatever issues she had settled, or...whatever. Sophie threw a temper tantrum. As usual. Did I mention that the mean age in our meetings is probably somewhere around thirty-two-ish? And that's with Doogie skewing the curve to the left a bit, making up for two who are around forty. What I'm saying in a roundabout way is that you'd think Sophie'd have developed different coping skills by now; this is a long way away from kindergarten. But in spite of that, there she is, damn near every meeting when she feels like she's not getting enough attention, acting out. Imagine someone who looks like The Ugly One from Teen Girl Squad, trying to act like whazzername...

...

...Oh, yeah--the Angelina Jolie character in Hackers. Acid Burn? That's just completely what Sophie reminds me of--some off- off- off- off- off-Broadway (think like Bohegan, IL) actress doing Acid Burn. I wish she'd go pester the Comp Sci department and leave us alone, but they probably have already run her out of there. The day she refers to herself as "elite", I'm leaving. Yet today, she will admit that she doesn't know Visual Basic to get out of doing something (that I wouldn't trust her to do anyway, were I my advisor), but throws out all these references about how she wrote this code, and blah, blah, blah...

Yeah, right. Maybe if that "code" was some kissy-face crap in Klingon to your fucknut husband who is still an ugrad at like, thirty-four though he tells everyone he went to (insert prestigious university here) implying he graduated from there when what I'm sure he means is that he once pulled into the parking lot there to turn around, sure. I'll believe that. You were up all night coding and doing whatever else Cool Sophies do.

No, I just smile and nod. It's easier.

Butsoanyway.

I really have no problem with...err...geeks, for lack of a better term. I just have a problem with pretentious dingdongs who are full of themselves. *That* is my problem with Sophie. And her fucknut husband, who occasionally hangs around though no one asked him to. And until about a week ago, Nastypants. At least Fluffer isn't pretentious--she really is full of herself and convinced she's all that and a bag of chips, as it were. That's tolerable. Well, mostly.

But, in short (heh, heh), the meeting was the same as always. I'm glad I'm going to get a break from this. I think--honestly, from the bottom of my heart--that we could accomplish something of substance if we could do the Working Together For A Common Goal thing. And if people like Sophie don't want to do that, then eh. Some of us can do it without her. But really I believe it's not just a paycheck, or another line on my CV; I wish everyone else did, too. But I guess that's life.

I'm going to call Meg and make sure she's ok and then go to sleep. Tomorrow Romeo gets his staples out. That's what I do love about this blog--it's easy to go back and check these things instead of relying on my own memory. Sure, I could use an agenda, or a PDA, or something, but I know me...I'd never enter it, figuring I'd remember. Which I don't, ever.