3/22/07

I am willing this week to be over. It's not working.

Tonight, I'm supposed to have my piano lesson, but this week I'm on something called "Pager Duty" which basically means I am a slave who is required to stay near my laptop and a high-speed internet connection at all times. It also means that I don't get a lot of sleep at night because my pager is nice enough to alert me every time one of our gazillion servers gets a little gassy and needs to be burped. I haven't had time to practice my sad chops at all this week, so I'm skipping it. I'd probably just end up rebooting servers from the piano bench all night anyway.

The lessons are going slowly, but I don't have brick hands any more. Now I just have these completely uncontrollable and apparently boneless protuberances between my middle finger and my pinky that don't seem to be connected to anything resembling my brain. In fact, even though on the outside they look like fingers, they are not. They are imposters, and I think they may actually be chinese spies. They just sit there and take detailed notes as they watch all my other fingers do stuff. They are shitty spies though because you'd think they'd want to blend in more so their cover doesn't get blown, but who knows. I don't speak chinese finger.

Oh, and if I haven't mentioned enough about pager duty sucking, here's another thing -- when it's your turn, it goes from Monday morning to Monday morning. Included in that stretch of time, for those of you who may not be awake yet, is the entire weekend. Also you might be surprised to learn that it's generally frowned upon to be intoxicated during potential crisis calls. You put those two things together and it means that right around 11pm on Saturday night, you almost hope your pager goes off so you don't feel even more cheated.

In other news, the pot-hole infested dirt road that leads to my piano teacher's house caused me to bottom out my car, and now something is effed up underneath. Whatever it is, it's making horrible sounds, and I know it can't be good. I haven't looked yet, but I am pretty sure I have been dragging this around under my car all week:



OK, I gotta go, my pager is going off and I think that means the tamagotchi needs to be fed or some shit.

16 comments:

  1. Sucks for you! My brother often has to do something similar with his work. He always spends family parties in the back room with his laptop and cell phone. We ate his birthday cake without him once.

    Go you on the piano lessons. You'll be the next Norah Jones soon, I know it.

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  2. "it's generally frowned upon to be intoxicated during potential crisis calls"

    therein lies the great irony of ME being a "site business continuity planner" - at any possible time I could be called into action if something happens to our physical facilities... and I drink often.

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  3. I was a pager widow for YEARS. The only good thing about it was listening to my husband's end of the phone conversations that usually followed: "You see that long, black thing coming out of the back of the computer? Is the other end of that plugged into the wall?"

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  4. I'm glad to hear that you don't have brick hands anymore.

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  5. Being the drunk on-call is perfectly acceptable as far as I'm concerned. Just last night I dealt with an asshole who absolutely refused to admit that it was his responsibility to deal with the thing he's listed on the calling tree as the contact for.

    I've talked to people I'm pretty sure were interrupted from making sweet love (I literally heard "Ah, come back to bed," in the background) who were more pleasant than this particular sack of lard.

    That said, I admire your dedication to keeping your servers in a semi-workable state. However, I also admire a gamblin' man. So take a risk, and get half drunk. Just remember, you've gotta know when to hold 'em, know when to fold 'em. Know when to walk away, and when to run.

    - Scott

    P.S. If all else fails, try to figure out some way to use security cameras to your advantage. This is now my solution to everything.

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  6. And tin men are so hard to shake off - kinda like gum on your shoe.

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  7. Beck, I would like to stay male, if it's all the same to you.

    Carly, I fear for us. Although I would be more scared if you had a few cokes.

    Badger, phone support sucks ass.

    arm - thanks man. Although I will miss yelling "It's clobberin' time!"

    scotty, good plan.

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  8. JV--You are a man of many parts! I admire you for persevering at the piano.

    I took piano lessons for a while, but had so little talent that I could probably play the piano as well with my feet.

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  9. Ah my darling JV. Your usual rampant wit has been bitter-tasting lately. I blame the piano, which is capable of sucking the soul out of a coffee stirrer, and I huge you from across the internet.

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  10. hey, is that really you in the picture?

    you're hawt ;)

    errr...anyway...if total drunkenness is frowned on...how about just a really good buzz? it might actually help productivity!

    right?

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  11. I feel that I am qualified to laugh at you right now. Do you know why I'm qualified to do that? I'll tell you why I can do that.

    Because I'm making spicy chili right now. Boo-ya!*


    *This probably wasn't necessary.

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  12. nanook, I huge you back.

    ESC, it is truly I. I figured anonymity is a false security, so wtf. Also, I am taking your advice.

    Alan, you are correct. Unnecessary. I curse you with ring sting.

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  13. I really am sorry for that. I don't even know what my hands are typing after about 2 AM; even now I suspect they are plotting a communist takeover of Canada. Spookily good timing with the ring sting curse, though... I just finished the second Tequila and Ex lax story.
    Here

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  14. PUBLIC SERVICE ANNOUNCEMENT:

    DO NOT, UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCES, FOLLOW THAT LINK. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED.

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  15. Since that last comment, my pageviews tripled. There's no publicity like bad publicity..... even if you know what's there, you want to click it. Be afraid.

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  16. In fact, even though on the outside they look like fingers, they are not. They are imposters, and I think they may actually be chinese spies. They just sit there and take detailed notes as they watch all my other fingers do stuff. They are shitty spies though because you'd think they'd want to blend in more so their cover doesn't get blown, but who knows. I don't speak chinese finger.




    lmao. holy shit. i just peed my pants.

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