Daljit of NORN!

Unfortunately, there doesn’t seem to be a way to share that info via a link. Oh well. I hope Facebook, Twitter, foursquare, my personal website, and a wiki that dates my use of the name back to the late 90s are enough.

There isn’t a roll eyes graphic big enough. I am so disgusted right now. And this from a company that I’ve come to look to for doing the right thing. I guess we’ll see what happens once they review my petition.

Update 1: Oh, I almost forgot! On the form I had to submit, there was no text entry field where I could write a well reasoned few lines to state my case. I had a choice, submit links or a photo ID. Great. I really hope they do the right thing, because to have a company tell me that the name I’ve used online since before they existed is a bit ludicrous.

Update 2: Hmmmm… you know, the internet is a pretty cool place. Using the Wayback Machine (I think it’s called the Internet Archive Project now?) and (irony!) Google Groups, I’m trying to track my first use of the name. It looks like it was either late 97 or early 98, but I’m trying to pin it down more precisely.

Update 3: From what I can tell, it looks like the first time I used the name was November 9th, 1997 on alt.games.creatures. Embarrassingly enough, I’m using it in an exchange of… I don’t even know what to call it. Me and another poster were having an argument (but not really, no one was actually angry, we were just being silly) and instead of yelling at each other in context, we wrote sort of stories of what our imaginary army of computer game artificial life organisms were doing to each other, and (now here’s the really embarrassing part!) in it I refer to myself in the third person. Ugh. Apparently I was too cool for school. Ah, the indiscretions of youth! ;)

I have a pretty good track record with them, though. I’ve only missed 2 months in 4-5 years, both for major events. The first was when I was in the middle of my move to MT. The second was now, while I’m being consumed by the World Cup. I have like 6 cards good for 100 downloads each that I got back before they halved the number of downloads you get for your monthly fee. I’m going to enjoy using those and sticking it to the man. ;)

At work, they reset your sick and personal time each year in December. They pay out any unused time and start the counter over. You get all your personal time at once, but your sick time trickles in a few hrs each month. Since I went home early on Saturday, I have like 3 hrs left. If I’m still running a fever tomorrow, I’m going to have to call out and use my personal time which really kind of sucks. Especially with the whole starting a new position and all. Oh, and the being in training bit, which ends this week. I hate being sick. I hate goofy company policies even more, though. Who the hell resets sick time in the middle of COLD AND FLU SEASON. Truly an inspired decision.

I’d rather not call out, but I guess it all depends on how I feel in the morning. I’ll end by quoting myself from a previous post where I quoted the Despair newsletter: “Rock out with your frock out!”

That still makes me laugh. Isn’t laughter supposed to cure disease? Laughter? I’m sure I heard that somewhere once.

The web form asks: “Share how Picasa has changed the way you edit and share your photos. Send us your story.”

My proposed reply:
“How has Picasa changed the way I edit and share my photos? Simply put sirs, it has stopped me from partaking of either of those activities. I find that when I wish to organize photographs, being kicked in the Mean Bean Machine™ is a strong disincentive to do it again! Also, the prejudicial behavior shown by Picasa towards certain, seemingly random photos, taken with my various digital cameras which cause the program to either crash to the desktop or hang makes me drink to excess, which is clearly playing into Picasa’s hands, as now i am just as drunk as she is and wont mind the beatings so much. And the willful misreading of date stamps? The less said about that, the better. But I am strong. I am not an object to be abused. I have left Picasa, and now live in the shadowy underbelly of the world of digital photos. Sure, I still take new photos, but i keep them in simple directories (My Photos/[Name of Event]) on a hard drive that Picasa does not scan, safe from her prying eyes. I rarely share them, lest her sister, Google Talk, tell her of my infidelities. I most certainly refrain from editing them for that would certainly bring Picasa’s heavy, booze fueled backhand to fly across my face. In closing, i have been deeply psychologically impacted by Picasa and will never share and edit digital photos again. I hope you’re happy.”

This, despite the fact that I have had a steady job for the last 5.5 years at the same place and was just about ready to be moved out in October. Maybe I should just kill myself instead? Seems like it would be a lot easier. Who says offing yourself isn’t an option? Bah.

Here is a transcript of a conversation between her and an animate skeleton we have working in our department:

Manbeast (MB): So, who’s having cabbage and corned beef hash tonight?
Skelly the Skeleton (SS): Oh definitely, I do it every year!
MB: Why do people have that anyway? Is corned beef an Irish culture thing?
SS: Yup! Just like the cabbage. It’s traditional.
MB: What’s corned beef made out of? It comes from a pig, right?

Editor’s Note: WHAT THE FUCK?! Corned BEEF comes from a fucking PIG?! WHAT THE FUCKING FUCKITY FUCK!?

SS: Er… no, its corned beef. Beef. It comes from cows.
MB: laughs. Oh yeah, beef. I thought it came from pigs, cause you know, the color. Beef turns brown when you cook it and corned beef is pink, and pig stays pink when you cook it so I thought that it came from pigs.

WHY IN NORNAN’S NAME MUST I BE SUBJECT TO THIS!? It should be noted that I almost choked. I was in the corner laughing so hard that I almost died. You know that kind of laugh where you laugh so hard you turn red and get dizzy and your stomach hurts and you’re actually laughing so fucking hard no sound even comes out? That’s the kind of laugh I was laughing. Because really, what the fuck. Pigs. Beef. WHAT THE FUCK? WHISKEY TANGO FOXTROT. WTF. I could go on, but… WHAT THE FUCK!? PIGS?! BEEF?! HOW DO YOU GET TO BE THAT FUCKING MASSIVE WITHOUT KNOWING YOUR MEATS?! I mean seriously, this girl has a fucking gravitational pull. Small objects orbit her. Toss a paper clip or post-it in her direction and shit will fall into an orbit around her leviathan bulk. I’m pretty sure she warps space-time around her and light bends in close enough proximity to her. And she doesn’t know what fucking animal fucking corned fucking beef comes from.

There is no end to the stupidity I must face on a daily basis. NO END.

I used to think I had a pretty good handle on being soul crushingly mean, but I think today I was schooled by a true master. I am but a grasshopper cowering from her awesome wrath.

And it has just occurred to me that I may have told her about this site recently. Well. Isn’t that precious?