I can feel the heat of Summer warping my fragile, little mind. I can feel it when I step outside for a cigarette, and, halfway through a solitary coffin-nail, losing interest in finishing it, despite being unsated, quickly extinguishing it and hopping back inside to the comfort of 65 degrees, religiously maintained by my brand-spanking-new Trane Microclimate Controller Z2000. I can feel it a little less today, though, as other compounding factors have been resolved.

Yesterday

Yesterday morning, I walked in to work for the fourth consecutive day. This is no small feat; the week prior, I walked in precisely once. On days where the expected heat index is estimated at 108 degrees, my interest in carrying a 7 pound laptop in a 2 pound bag with 2 pounds of extra, dry, clean clothes to change into once I arrive, decreases to below zero. But yesterday, I had to go in again, as the CEO, his best buddy and yes man, the VP of Marketing (mind you, we do no marketing, and haven't in the year and a half said VP has been drawing a salary), and the "potential" new CTO were arriving in the office for the day. He's not quite the chump I expected, but he is in full-on interview mode, and was doing his best to ingratiate us to himself on a one-to-one basis. For his attempt to social engineer me, he went the route of talking about how he was a system administrator for 10 years, and then tangented to the various old SGI machines he has from his time at Silicon Graphics. He claims to own one of the faux-Indy laptops they mocked up for the movie "Twister" (they were actually just really bright displays with a non-functioning keyboard attached, and any time something took place on the monitor, it was actually happening on the CPU hidden below the desk), and he listed off a slew of other similarly underpowered SGI workstations he's got sitting in his garage at home. That's great, dude, but when you start asking about the possibility of adding some Windows machines, or rewriting our entire code base so that it'd work in Java, on Sun or lunix hardware, you're pushing your fucking luck.

The worst part about yesterday was the non-stop meetings discussing company goals. I want my stock options to turn into cash, just like everyone else, but I still don't want to sit in a meeting jabbering about it. I could hear email notification sounds coming from my office, and couldn't check them. There were puppies I needed to evaluate. There were RSS feeds that needed checked. And as the afternoon wore on, the office air conditioner began to lag behind, with the office temperature slowly climbing above 80, then 85, then 90. It might have been slightly better were we to take the occasional break, so I could go smoke. That would have reduced my desire to jump over the table and throttle the marketing VP every time he mispronounced the word "algorithm". If you can't even fucking pronounce it, don't try to pretend you even understand it, let alone had anything to do with it's creation, refinement, or application. Chump.

Then the venture capital dude arrived from Texas, around 4:30 or so. Strangely, he was a breath of fresh air. Pretty cool guy.

After that, came dinner. Or, rather, we all travelled to dinner. More stock talk, more pCTO trying to impress us, some speeches, and no excitement. While the rack of lamb with chive potatoes and sauteéd spinach was better than the hot dogs I would have had, otherwise, I still was itching to get the fuck out of there. And I was missing la mia Barista, big-time.

In fact, I've been missing her big-time for a few days now. Due to her work's scheduling, she's been MIA for a few consecutive days, which is odd to get used to after you get comfortable being around someone so much. Last week, she was here almost every day. Today, she has the day off, though, so last night she came over after work, and put a very, very Happy Ending on a little dry spell there.

Awwwww

This morning, I got up to "work from home" (read: walk from bed to desk, sit at desk until market close), and I still can't get over just how cute she is when she's sleeping. The comforter pulled up to her ears, she makes sporadic snorting noises, like a little puppy. A little naked, female, humanoid, lithe, sexy puppy. However, that makes it difficult for me to remain focused on work. Around 2:00pm, she got dressed and went out to pick up dulce de leche shakes from Häagen Dasz. She just may be a keeper. Hell, I didn't even come up with that idea; she just craved ice cream, and I didn't have any, so PRESTO, ICE CREAM DELIVERY! I shall reward her somehow later.

God DAMN, how I loves me some ice cream dulce de leche shake...

Snippets

• AIMfight.
• Rowr.
• Robot PKD.
• Look out for EROTOTOXINS!
• So, Orkut does actually have a use...
• Mr. Floatie.
• I don't think Paul Reubens Day honors the man with the proper amount of dignity.
• Artists: Can't be revolutionary. Too busy being irrelevent.

Alright, this is half-baked enough to eat without getting sick; time to post the motherfucker, and go spoon up behind la mia Barrista, nestling my wiener between the cheeks of her adorable little tushy until it becomes engorged with blood... I told her what I just wrote, and she chuckled. That's probably because she thinks I'm just writing email to a friend, and not telling the whole world of my prurient desires for her. Word.