Laughing All The Way

On Ice: we interrupt this program to bring you breaking news

Today is day one of the anti-Bruce campaign. Fucker didn’t do his shit and even though last night we spoke and he assured me that he was going home and doing what needed to be done, he still hasn’t done what he was suppose to do.

Last night I reminded him that there would be no IM’ing and emails in addition to no phone calls. This is around the time when I normally call him in the morning, and it pains me to not call him. However, I am more than a little disappointed in him right now, so I guess it’s probably better that I am not going to call him now.

I’ve told Bruce that he should comment if he wishes, because he tells me what he thinks of the posts, but never leaves any comments. He says that a comment by him will interrupt my narrative, I said I think he should either comment on the blog or refrain from reading the blog entirely. The more I think of that, the more I am sure that is what should be done.

Also, Bruce (who should have left this in a comment, hence my point) would like everyone to know the story about his employment status and why he needs to do his resume, but I am not going to explain that story because Bruce is in time-out for being a fuck-wit (Bruce, it’s up to you to let people know why you are tasked with your resume).

Oh, but you see…aforementioned shit was done.  There’s just no secure infrastructure to document it to the SG-required verification standard at this moment.

As for my employment status, there has been a change of command and I have been offered the choice between applying for a proconsulship on Vogon XV and exile to Keflavik, Iceland.  SG doesn’t like penguins.

-Broose

If I were talking to you, which I am not, I would say bullshit.

There were specific requirements, repeatedly stated, and you failed to meet them.

Indeed, if I were talking to you, you would know how very unhappy I am with you at this very moment.

But since I am not talking to you, you will have to just live in wonder (and fear).

Actually, those specific requirements were articulated as a set of conditions, not as an independent covenant.  To wit:  *if* I fulfilled those requirements, *then* the on-ice period would end.  But there was no explicit commitment to fulfill those requirements by any given time.  Hence, I’m not in breach of anything.  (That said, it is entirely proper for the on-ice status to continue until I do present proof in a manner consistent with the specific requirements.)

As for the limited commitment that *was* made, I did agree to go home and “do” the aforementioned shit (which I did).  However, I intentionally did not commit to presenting proof-of-shit that same night, as I knew that certain security concerns preclude the use of certain systems on both ends of our communications channel for verification purposes.

-Brooze

Dear Fuck-wit:

I know you think you’re being cute. You’re not. If there is one thing that has been learned hear at Laughing All The Way, is that you all (men) are not cute (refer to the Cakehead incident of 2005 for further explanation).

You are all trying to get out of this and the whole reason why I said what I said is because you procrastinate like a mother-fucker. Look at you right now, I bet you’re not billing out for anything because you’re reading my blog. Thanks for proving the point.

Go back to doing what you’re suppose to be doing (and I am so not hearing your weak ass argument that you never agreed to being on ice, you knew it was coming and I don’t need you to agree to it. Also, this is why you’re not allowed near the children. What are you going to do, play let’s make a deal with punishment. They’ll be all, “Well, we didn’t agree to being grounded so we’re going out.” And you will be all, “Curses, foiled again, I should have gotten their explicit agreement when I stated what their punishment will be.”).

And as far as I am concerned, I have no idea what: “certain security concerns preclude the use of certain systems on both ends of our communications channel for verification purposes” means but I can assure you that is possibly the worst excuse since the Iguana ate my homework classic of 1996.

So, results: I don’t believe you (in fact I bet you went home and promptly fell asleep on the couch) and the ice period will now be extended because I am so dang aggravated with you and to speak to you would just make me cranky and annoyed.

Basically: you lose. You knew the requirements and you failed to meet them.

Isn’t it funny how men KNOW what is required and fail to meet them? Replace *funny* with *downright fucking annoying* and we are getting somewhere.

It’s a hard line to draw when you are used to talking/SMSing/IMing someone and they are in the penalty box. G was there all weekend and I had to refrain from many a drunken SMSs berating him for his stupidity.

I assume by the previous post that things have worked themselves out and you are now speaking. Penalty boxes suck.

Actually, no we aren’t speaking. I mean we are both commenting on the blog right now, but he has still failed to send me what he needs to in order to get the chill out of the air…more on that later.

Hmm.

I’m not being cute, and I never suggested that the on-ice status wasn’t appropriate.  I’m simply pointing out that there is a difference between “I know and accept that you won’t talk to me until I finish x, so I’m starting x tonight” and “I promise to send you proof that I’ve finished x by Monday morning.”  I said the former, not the latter.  I understand the ice but not the rage.

FYI, I did complete a draft on time last night.  None of that time was spent lying on the couch.  I did not send it, since it was past midnight and I thought it needed a second read with a fresh pair of eyes in the morning.  I did that at 6:30 but had to leave for a morning meeting before all my edits were in.

Hence the “security concerns”—it would be unwise to edit and send these sorts of items while using the information systems of my current employer.  It had to wait until I got home.

And so it did.  Check your email.

Oh Bruce, this is not rage. Do not be confused. You act as if you’ve never met me…and now I am a little confused.

The fact that you thought I was even going to read the thing is beyond me. I have no interest in debating commas with you, or better yet, the best use of the tab button.

The anger, not rage, that is real and is entirely separate from the what you had to do and the what you did.

And I have checked my email, and funnily enough, the feelings of joy and elation that you might suspect I would be having, just aren’t there. You are a lot of work. And I am still very very tired.

I am getting too old for this shit.

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