The · man · with · the · sudo

So I spotted and perused this Tribune article about Reader's Picks: Overrated destinations of the world

First thought: This is why the Tribune is bankrupt. It has entire photo essay articles with less rigorous research than a message board poll on professional wrestling fan site. One of the items argues how Los Angeles is the greatest place in the world, for god's sake.

Second thought: Reading the explanatory text of many of these entries, I considered that perhaps this story was originally titled: Reader Submissions for Chicago Tribune Annual "Best Example Of Ugly American Stereotype" contest.

I got my official offer letter today for full-time employment starting on Monday. The actual offered salary was increased again without my requesting it. I also moved into my new cubicular digs.

( Alternate title: Movin on up, to the east side...LITERALLY! [New cubicle is on east side of building.] )

The boss came up to me today and said he needed to "chat" with me in private real quick. This sort of thing always makes me nervous, and my mind immediately turned to a minor non-event this weekend that wasn't really my fault but maybe someone decided to make an example and now I'm going to be escorted out.

( WILL our hero be escorted out??? )

Professor, trying to explain the concept of syntax errors, pointing at this sample code: count = count + 1;

"Now, suppose you made a typo in the word 'count', that would be a syntax error. Say you accidentally left off a letter, like the 'o'...well, now the computer doesn't know what that word means..."

I proceed to do an actual jaw drop, glancing furtively around me at the several woman in my immediate vicinity, none of whom seem to have done the metaphorical math. Professor just continues on unawares. Lawsuit apparently averted.

I had a doctor's appointment today, basically a check-up from the unpleasantness earlier in the year to make sure things were still okay, which they seem to be.

However, near the end of the appointment, she indicated that I probably wouldn't need to see her again until next year for my annual physical, which she schedules for April, one month after my 40th birthday, an age which she notes pointedly. Some of you know what this means.

Happy birthday to me.

I stumbled across a document today from September of 1996 where I mentioned my then-current weight of 291 pounds. Needless to say, in the intervening years that number went significantly higher. However, I am currently about 10 pounds below that number. This means that I am in all likelihood the skinniest that my good wife has ever known me.

Courtesy of the book Hobo by Eddie Joe Cotton.

Ghost Story

A story or long tale of woe to gain sympathy; a begging yarn. Like fashions, those ghost stories in vogue and "just the thing" this year are soon out of date and must be altered to meet changed conditions, and it is a matter of pride with every tramp to have a good string of stories at his command.

Courtesy of the book Hobo by Eddie Joe Cotton.

Grabbing Scenery

Looking from a boxcar or other place of concealment on a train, a procedure that, marking the inexperienced tramp, is frowned upon by the older, wiser ones, since it is likely to lead to detection and consequent "ditching" by the trainmen.

Courtesy of the book Hobo by Eddie Joe Cotton.

Hump or The Hump

The summit of a railroad grade, especially over a mountain pass. (The train finally "humped" the Rocky Mountains.) Also, the artificial hill in a classification yard over which cars are pushed to travel by gravity to their proper places in the lower yard, where they are made up into trains; the middle of a prison sentence, in this case the prisoner feeling the worst is over; sexual intercourse.

Governor Sarah Palin once led over 35 of Alaska's most elite national guard troops to a decisive victory over 4 starving bears in the epic Battle of Nome's Deep.

(I don't intend to turn this into the "Pick on Sarah Palin" blog, really, I just suddenly had "Battle of Nome's Deep" pop into my head and I had to get it out. Also, Sarah Palin can kiss my elitist homo ass.)

Courtesy of the book Hobo by Eddie Joe Cotton.

Biscuit Shooter

A waitress or short-order cook. The average tramp and migratory worker is not used to restaurants where the food or service is of the best, and the manner in which the dishes are "shot" at the diner is reflected in the term for the person responsible.

So today was day two at the new job. Day #1 was mostly spent trying to come up with things I could do without a computer or phone or any accounts or a desk or a keycard that would let me re-enter the office after using the bathroom. By the end of day one desk and keycard and phone had been achieved.
( WILL our hero perform any actual work??? )

A lot of things have changed from the beginning of the year. I actually managed to squeeze into some size 42 pants today. They were way too tight of course and no living being would want to see me in pants that tight during the brief window of time before they exploded, but I just wanted to see how low I could go. 40s were definitely still in Never The Buttons Shall Meet territory. The 46s were a much better fit. Also I was able to buy 2XL shirts that don't suffer from button strain around the belly, which is also new.

This probably explains why so many of my existing pants have a distinct clown pants vibe.

Today was "Go downtown to fill out paperwork, then go to Des Plaines to fill out paperwork" Day. I already knew that I would need to take a drug test. I went downtown to the new presumptive employer, filled out all the paperwork (including consent for a detailed background check) and got a form to take to a lab where they had me urinate in a plastic cup.

Then I drove out to Des Plaines to the contracting agency, and filled out similar paperwork, including another consent for a separate background check. And as it turned out, *another* drug test. Yes the contracting agency, totally independent of the employer, needs to have their own drug tests and background checks. So I got another similar form to take to another similar lab to excrete presumably similar urine into a similar plastic cup.

So in the end, not only was today the date of my first ever drug test. It was also the date of my second.

Interviews today seemed to go well. Well enough that I got a call a few hours later that they want to hire me. Tomorrow I head back down for paperwork and drug tests, and then some more paperwork with the contracting agency. Assuming nothing goes horribly wrong in that process, I could be on the job as early as Monday.