Monday, March 28, 2011

I am so screwed

And not the way I'd like to be (I can't help it) .... My final exam is in four days. I've been trying to study, and by trying, I mean carrying my binder of shit around as if I'm really going to open it. I studied today at lunch though, which was moving along nicely. Read and understood at the same damn time. Until I came to this part in module 4.8:

Following the allocation of the source points, the rule-based approach would follow the direction of flow in the network diagram to the next point where the flow would combine with another stream or would diverge to two or more streams. In the case where flow combines, the values from each of the feeding streams would be accumulated for use at the next downstream point in the network diagram. If this subsequent point is one where the streams diverge, then each diverging stream would have a “rule” indicating which source owner values are on this diverging stream along with the calculation order of the rule. An additional or secondary rule will be required on each of these diverging streams if the allocation rile does not assign ownership proportionate to the available owner values. This additional rule indicates which source owner values will be allocated to the diverging stream if one of the owners or source owners does not have sufficient values to match the value of the diverging stream. In this situation, one or more of the source owners will make up the shortfall associated with the first allocation rule. These “make up” volumes can be either sold to the owner who is short or they can be “contributed” to the stream by the appropriate source owner.

Then a few more sentences down, I read this:

This keeps unnecessary complexity out of the allocation logic and reduces the chance of error and disputes.

Fucking really!?

And this is what I get when I google "diverging streams" (which, by the way does not auto-fill when typing which means WTF a lot) ....

Um, nope. Pretty sure that has nothing to do with oil and gas or allocation or secondary fucking rules. 72% on the open book mid-term?! Yep, I'd say I'm pretty screwed.

Wednesday, March 23, 2011

Working Wednesday

The title was a toss up between Working Wednesday and Hump Day. I decided against Hump Day even though I like humping more than I like working, working is pretty close behind. I'm one of these subtle ass kissers who gets great bonuses and raises and perks and oooh I love my job .... And because there's been no humping lately ... wtf? And because I just learned in the elevator that our offices are closed Friday, so today really isn't hump day.

I was reading a blog recently about working in an office and all the crazy shit people have to deal with and how many absolute morons some people have to work with. I've shared many office stories with friends & family, and sometimes I'm surprised that more people don't get fired for punching a co-worker in the back when they walk past them in the hall. Sometimes I can't believe I haven't punched someone in the back in the office ... or at the very least, stapled someones fucking hand to their fucking desk ... Moving on ... I can't remember the blog I was reading now, which is too bad because it was very funny. It's not like I make a whole lot of time for blogging lately anyway. But reading the work blog made me realize that I haven't shared much about work, but I've shared probably too much about my sex life (or lack of lately .. sigh ...) and my pooping schedule. Although, there's a little of that in today's blog too ... I don't know why I do it ...

It's a picto-blog. Which took most of yesterday afternoon to write and is now intruding on my smoke break since blogger only lets me upload two pics at a time before kicking me out and making me sign back in ... If this was any other situation, I'd take it as a hint ...

I've been working in this office building for just under 18 months. I work here with over 50 other "accountants" while the rest of my company is in another building two blocks away. They didn't do this because accountants are that horrid to work with (even though I've heard people state this ... seriously, WE rock!!) but because we were tight for space in the other building and the company doesn't believe in cubes, pods, shared offices, etc. That's right ... we ALL have our own offices with our own doors ... yah boi. In a month, we move back into the other building when more floors open up and it saddens us. Me a lot, because ...well, look at my view ....

Summer view above, bullshit winter view below (TODAY's view ... good christ I'm sick of winter ....)
Again, yah boi.

I'm in the tallest copper building on the right ... And the bridge you see was used in some shooting/exploding/fight scene in the a Steven Seagal movie. That's right ... Steven Seagal once stood exactly where I'm driving in this pic (not a Steven Seagal fan, so there's no excitement in that statement whatsoever just thought it'd be a nice addition to my blog today).

We are moving to the shorter concrete building behind the lion. Right in China Town, which is always entertaining, even more than Steven Seagal really. So my building, I will miss. The food court, I will miss. My smoking crew, I will really miss. Especially on the days the guy who puts his cell phone under his earmuffs and talks hands-free is around. Some of the office bullshit, I will not miss! Thank god they're splitting up the accounting department so I no longer have to listen to the woman who groans in a sexual manner when she uses the washroom, no longer have to watch for lip stick on the mugs when I make my breakfast (everyone knows who you are!!), and no longer have to restrain myself from punching the lady that sent this to the entire floor one day ....  
What. The. Fuck. She has a silver mullet though, so it's pretty clear she's not all there ... ya know ... in her head ....

Mainly, I want to get the hell out of here because of what happened two weeks ago ...

That should read "Washrooms Closed FOREVER". Which, if you've been reading my blog, you will know that this just doesn't work for me. This is more than a slight inconvenience since construction wont be finished until we leave the building. Fuckers. My comfort zone was fucked with. Last Thursday was the first time I stayed late since we had the toilets taken from us and when shit was just about to hit the fan, I couldn't find the damn air freshener. They moved all of our toiletries into the hall when the construction started, but it had been moved since, and not down to the counter of the washrooms we're now forced to use. I went on a panicked search of the office and finally found it ... This is where it now stays ...

In my desk drawer. I literally stuff it in my over-sized Coach bag and take it with me when I have to go ... I think ... I think I just crossed the line of office crazy lady ...

And lastly, where the real magic happens ...

Two monitors because I'm that fucking important, my own hand lotion since I couldn't find the bottles from the washrooms when I tore the office apart looking for the febreeze, a Robert Pattinson calendar that Sydnerella bought me for Christmas (which is actually the source of a lot of conversation when people walk by), and coffee that I drink in the same mug most days so I KNOW who's lips have been on it (mug also from Sydnerella for Mothers Day one year). My phone is blinking with new messages because I never answer it or check the messages (ever), and if you look really close, there's a toy oil truck and a whale under my monitors that I won at a lunch n learn. Oil company. Whale oil. I don't know either.

Thursday, March 10, 2011

just stalk them until they come to you

So I'm sitting here doing what I normally do about once a week at lunch ... getting to know reading my favorite blogger over at Mental Poo, Moooooog35. And by favorite blogger I mean the dude who writes the funniest blog I've ever read who I was planning on marrying once I got around to figuring out how. 1. Because I know he's on the market. and 2. He makes me pee my pants. Given my current relationship status, this is exactly what I'm looking for. It's been going on for several months now, maybe even close to a year, so I started doing what every other woman does when they find the person they're going to marry and started stalking him. Well, I mean just reading his blog, twitter, mapquesting the drive from my house to his, and most recently watching his youtube vids. I stopped short of friending him on facebook just in case my "limited profile" facebook friends found their way to my blog and that really wouldn't be a good thing. Especially my 13 year old ... even though I did include her on a list of contacts who got this text from me last night:

Can you do me a favor and text me back? My friends don't think special ed kids can text, but you'll show those fuckers!

I really don't want her reading about why her momma sometimes has no vagina hair and gives a mean hand job. End of story.

Back to the point of todays and my weekly rendevous at Mental Poo. Just minutes after posting my last comment on my fiance's blog Mental Poo, my blackberry light starts flashing. It's a friend request on facebook. From Moooooog35 @ Mental Poo..... So I'm either not doing a very good job keeping facebook or youtube separate from my dirty blog. Or my stalkee has become my stalker. Or maybe ... maybe Moooooog35 digs me. Or at the very least, wants a hand job. Anyway, I have to get a move on ...

(because I just received this message from my sister and have to call her to ask what the fuck: Tyler just broke our neighbours back windshield by throwing frozen FUC&?$G turkey at it!)

... Moooooog35 is a bit of a celebrity to me, he makes me laugh pretty damn hard, has recently told me he hearts me on youtube, and actually knows I exist. I remember this feeling from seventh grade when the cutest boy asked me out ... only, when it happened back then, it was publicly announed that it was a big fat joke after I said yes. So, no, I guess it's not the same ... Here's hoping ....

Wednesday, March 2, 2011

ramblings from a continuing ed classroom

I got 72% on my open book exam last week. Open book! Obviously, I have problems. I normally love learning about anything related to the oil patch, but it's getting hard. And I'm getting bored. I'm dreading school tomorrow because of the really boring instructor. He's not the usual guy, the funny guy. I just may skip. And this is why:

(copied word for word from my last class after doodling wasn't even keeping me awake)

Learning Crap Related to my Job

Yawn. Repeatedly. Am I in the right classroom? These people look familiar. I've been in oil & gas a long time and I have never heard of what's coming out of this dudes mouth. Wait .... he just said something about being suspicious. And I am. Very.

I've never yawned in class. Even in high school. You don't yawn in your sleep silly. Until today, right now, which is why I am writing this. Holy shit. He just said "holy shit". I looked up to the projector and he's right. Holy shit. A million dollar mistake that will make the auditors happy. The fuck?!

There are 12 students in class today. About half the usual size. It's minus 85 degrees today, my faux husband leaves tomorrow, and I really wish I was part of the other half of the class right now.

I did choose to take these classes, hell, I even paid for them in advance hoping I pass so my company pays me back. One thing's for sure ... If I am ever faced w/ this crap on the job, I will walk away ... oooh diagrams ...

Why is it that the only person who asks questions in class is the one with the thickest accent? My opinion is that she wouldn't need to ask so many questions if she knew English. Just sayin ... christ, here she goes again. Quite entertaining when the instructor attempts to answer.

Speaking of accents ... I sit in the back row, which gives me a disturbing view of the bald spot on the back of this good looking guys head. He has a sexy and exotic accent. Why isn't he asking the questions? Why isn't he teaching the class?

"If ya can't draw it in a picture, ya wont know what yer talkin about" .... huh!?

I just raised my hand to a "how many of you ..." question. I am such a nerd. I wonder how many times I can yawn before I offend this guy? And again, without the diagram, I'm "kinda hooped"  ... His meaning of "hooped" is a little different than mine me thinks.

I've been in oil & gas longer than mostly everyone in this current class and I am certain they have no clue what the fuck he's talking about either. I'm flipping through my binder and writing these ramblings furiously, I must look really damn smart.

The more questions accent-lady asks, the longer we sit here. Wonder if anyone else want to throw shit at her? Guess that groan from across the room answers my question. I snorted out loud to that. I am finding it humorous that every time I stop writing and try to pay attention, I yawn. Back to my work of art. 90 minutes to go ...

Good christ, I lied. Glory, hallelujah, etc. "Any questions?" he asks. People are shoving their books into bags. Say a word bitch and they wont find your body.