I'm sorry, the sink did what?

Sure, people talk about things looking like somebody set off a hand grenade in a bucket of shit, but nobody actually sets off a hand grenade in a bucket of shit. Except in Temp Town.

We got to work this morning to find that sometime during the night, somewhere in the plumbing something somehow turned the kitchen sink into a shit cannon. In the review space kitchen area, the sink experienced a major poo-splosion, blasting shit all over the wall behind the sink, the sink itself, the ceiling above it, the floor around it and pretty much everything within a couple feet of the sink. And when I say "shit," I don't mean "stuff." I mean shit. Poo. Poop. Caca. Dung. Manure. Fecal matter. Evil fudge. So yeah, we aren't going over there today. Guess we'll be buying bottled water across the street, too, since the filtered water dispenser is at Ground Zero.

It would seem that the same unknown process that turned the kitchen into a weapon of mass eruption also worked its magic on a sink in the women's restroom that is on the other side of the wall from the kitchen sink. But I have to take the word of other, more female members of the project for that, as I do not typically use the women's restroom. Not that anyone is now, of course. Good thing there are two.

Reckon I better get back to clicking before somebody points the cannon at me.

Happy St. Patrick's Day, y'all!

I think my ancestors must have been from Southern Ireland. Can't put a nifty graphic up because I'm blogging behind enemy lines, but I wanted to wish everyone a happy one. St. Patrick: kicking snake ass so you don't have to. Go raise a few for the man.

I think I've lost the will to carry on

Y'all go ahead without me. Save yourselves. I'll just lie here for a while. Don't worry about me. My fatigue-induced hallucinations will keep me company. I'll be fine. Or I'll die. One or the other. Maybe should take a day off. Of course, if I get caught blogging behind enemy lines, I might find myself with a lot of days off.

Work is bad for blogging

Currently working seven days a week on a project that will end quickly by offers much overtime. You have to take it when they offer it -- that's Rule No. 2 -- and you better take it now, because Rule No. 3 teaches us that tomorrow is too late: every project ends tomorrow. Anyway, getting home at 10:30 at night, taking care of business and trying to get enough sleep to get up at 5:30 doesn't leave much time for blogging. Hence, my silence lately. Sorry about that, and I'll try to be better. Maybe a little more blogging behind enemy lines.

I'm sorry, the calendar says March

So why did we get snow and ice Sunday? And snow and ice forecast for this afternoon? And more snow Thursday? Someone needs to have a word with someone. It's almost spring, and I expect some spring-like weather, damn it. And yeah, I'm blogging behind enemy lines.

Trying a new approach to put up more posts

This project is killing me. I get home at about 10:15, sometimes 10:30. By the time I take care of stuff I have to take care of, it's usually past midnight. I'll sit down to put a couple posts on the blog and, like as not, the next thing I know it's 2 or 3 in the morning and I wake up in my chair, never having touched the keyboard. Lack of posts is related to lack of traffic, which is OK for the month but down the last week or so. So now I'm blogging behind enemy lines. It won't be posted from here (I'm actually at the firm on this project) so I am emailing this post to myself. You'll know how well the technique works by how many posts I am able to put up tonight that were written earlier in the day. Update: the answer is, this post, and only this post. That didn't work, at least not today.

Blogging behind enemy lines

I've been doing a lot of blogging behind enemy lines lately because we almost never have anything to do. I guess that kind of makes it more like using an internet cafe in a country where some people don't like Americans that much but aren't going to attack us. Like France, maybe.

Anyway, this project simply refuses to die. We sit around from 8 am to 7 pm, some days with a little work, most days not. I believe we are being kept around as a sort of fire brigade until the government agencies involved approve this transaction. I mean, it could be because of my dashing good looks and rapier-sharp wit, but that doesn't explain why everybody else is still here. But we're here, and the swordfish keeps on swimming along.

Working 7 days sucks

I haven't had a day off in two weeks now and, yeah, I'm bitching. I have three new countries that have visited, and I need to put up posts on those. Not sure when I'll get to it. A good country post takes more work than I can put in when blogging behind enemy lines. Those have to be quick hits, like this one -- a few seconds bitching or whatever, then back to work.

The plight of a temp-blogger

This week is turning out to be a seriously weird convergence of the world of temping with the world of blogging. I'm just hoping that the cosmic forces involved won't reach the levels experienced in the first Ghostbusters movie and lead to really serious shit.

Anyway, this week is turning into an hours disaster. Naturally, we couldn't work yesterday because the firm we are working for observes all federal holidays, even those honoring presidents for whom they have no respect and probably could not actually name. It's a fucking ski holiday. Then, the agency, which recently moved into our luxurious new space, which is largely like any other fucking document review space in that it is full of a bunch of God damn temps with computers in front of them, wants to show off its luxurious new space to clients and so is holding an open house. This means we will be kicked out at 5 pm on Thursday, because the one thing they don't want potential clients to see is the actual temps the potential clients might actually have to hire. Let's face it, they would cease to be potential clients. Meanwhile, I am concerned that I have simply not cussed enough in this motherfucking post, and so I will probably throw in some totally fucking extraneous obscenities. But that's just me.

Despite the fact that I now have no prayer of making decent overtime this week, I still got home late enough that after walking the various canine units, talking to Mrs. Wolves and Lance Corporal Wolves, and checking my email, I had a choice of getting to bed before midnight or putting up a post on the blog. I seriously had a big post lined up for tonight with lots of links and stuff. It is not a post about temping, however, and I felt that tonight should be about temping. So we now know two things about this blog. First, I will sacrifice sleep to put up a temp-related post on this blog. And, b) tomorrow I will be blogging behind enemy lines on pirate internet.