(no subject)

When I arrived at work this morning I had 600 emails.

Approximately 200 were about Oprah closing down Michigan Avenue today, and were a mixture of questions about transit (let me put on my CTA uniform and answer those for you -- oh wait, NOT MY JOB) and complaints about Oprah.

About another 200 were gossip about how BossBoss's boss (Supreme!Boss) is quitting. Apparently he is quitting because his husband wants him to move to Seattle with him and he lined up a shiny new job there.

(150 of those at least were variations on the theme of OMG SUPREME!BOSS IS GAY? and/or "Goddammit, why are the good gay ones taken?")

The final 200 were URGENT! PRESSING! MATTERS! that had to be resolved by last Friday.

So really I only had about 15 emails that mattered, and at least half of those were coupon deals.

One of them was also from Southwest, welcoming me home after my trip. How creepy is that? MY AIRPLANE SENT ME AN EMAIL.

A bit of housecleaning, additionally...

I officially sent out the last of the "Hey, do you still want a signed copy of Nameless?" emails this morning. If you were on the waiting list and haven't heard from me, check your PM box on LJ; if you still haven't heard from me there, drop me a note here so I can set you up. I do have seven people on the waiting list who I've been trying to contact for a few weeks (some for a few months, actually).

If you live in Chicago, particularly if you live in the Uptown/Buena Park/Wrigleyville area, you should know that Graceland Cemetery is doing tours for Hallowe'en. They're ticketed, so presumably availability is limited. Graceland is worth $15 without a guided tour, so this is a bargain!

Locals, don't judge me for reading Uptown Update. They're scary but well-informed.

If you live on the Internet, you may be interested in the Hierarchy of Digital Distractions, brought to you by the Information Is Beautiful blog. I kind of want a poster of it.

(no subject)

The following is an email exchange between me and BossBoss:

Sam: *emails the entire company* PLZ TO NOTE: The building is not closing at three pm today due to Impending Oprah. One of the building's tenants is closing their office at three. Their employees have been spreading "elevator gossip" that the entire building is closing. But we are not.
BossBoss: Hey everybody, Sam says we can go home at three today!
Sam: If you think I have that kind of authority, I have been vastly under-utilising my powers.
BossBoss: I thought you were just keeping a low profile.
Sam: Shadow emperor of the company, that's me.

In news of me continuing to be awesome, I'm trying to Get Out more in the evenings. Tonight's Get Out project was going to be Wheel with R, but he's being flaky so instead I'm either going to the library or the grocery store. Nourishment either way!

I really just want to see if the grocery store has apple Bagelfuls.

(no subject)

Do you know, I've never actually made Gashouse Eggs before, which is what my father called egg-in-toast. God knows why he called them that, but I was reminded of their existence by an article on what you call them, in which I see he was not the only one.

You take a piece of bread, thick cut for preference, and cut a hole in the middle of it, then butter both sides and toss it into a hot pan. You crack an egg into the hole, cook it on low until the egg is set enough to shift it around a little, flip, and cook the rest of the way.

Dad -- my biological father, not Lucky -- used to make them for me as a special treat when I was a kid, which is perhaps why I never did, because He Made Them, like, it's not real unless it's made by a specific person. Inspired by the article, I made one tonight, using a ginormous slice of the bread I baked yesterday, and it was amazing. It took all of ten minutes to make, got precisely one pan dirty, and tasted amazing with some salt and a little curry powder.

Still can't make mickey mouse pancakes like he could, though.