@scoccaro’s house or prison?

  1. Don’t eat that
  2. Stop licking his butt
  3. How did you get in here?
  4. Stop licking her ear
  5. SHUT. UP.
  6. Stop crying!
  7. Please don’t bite me
  8. You will get dinner when dinner is ready, brat
  9. You really are the worst
  10. Go to your room!

That time I went to Arkansas

This time when I was in college, I had actually just left and I was driving from South Dakota to South Carolina and I was “driving by feel,” which is what my dad always called it when we were lost during daylight hours. 

Anyway, I saw a sign that was like “over here is Ohio! and over there is Tennessee! Choose your own adventure, Stephanie!” So, I chose Tennessee, because Ohio sucked then, and it sucks now.  Where was I going with this?  i don’t know.  I ended up in fucking Arkansas. And I got a speeding ticket.  I was going like 75 in a 55.  Have you ever been to Arkansas?  Like through it?  You want to get through it was fast as humanly possible and then take a hot shower.

I end my night in Memphis.  Just me and my cat Big Bird. Who was feral by the way and hated everything about me. In the hotel room that night, I took that ticket and ripped it up and threw it away.  The reason I did this was because this guy I knew (who actually was not smart.  Like at all.  usually when stuff like this comes up its like ‘he was actually brilliant but makes bad choices’.  This guy was a fucking idiot) told me that tickets like that don’t count if you never go back to the state they are issued. So I believed him!

I got up the next morning and hit the road, not thinking twice about that ticket.

About 6 months goes by, and my dad is renewing my car insurance.  He calls me at work “Stephanie. Why don’t you have a drivers license?” I’m all “what?” he’s all “YOU HAVE NO DRIVERS LICENSE.” Like I was deaf or from another country in which he had to raise his voice to speak to me.  My hearing is fine, just so everyone knows.  So I follow his comment with “I have no idea, I have been driving, I haven’t like gotten anything in the mail or anything.” Keep in mind I had no forwarding address and my drivers license was still issued from Minnesota with an address on it for a house that had been sold for months. He then proceeds to tell me that if I get pulled over I was going to jail.  Keep in mind, this was always the threat growing up.  Like “Don’t drink my scotch, you will go to jail,” “Don’t have premarital sex, you will go to jail,” or “Driving any speed that is over 5 below the speed limit will land you in jail, miss.”

So, I get yelled at for awhile. And then he tells me that I can’t drive until I have a drivers license again.  He knew my boss so he called him and aired my dirty laundry and was like “she’s not coming to work until this is done.”

He found out about the ticket and asked where it was.  I told him, room 213 at the Marriott in Memphis. In the garbage can.  But they have probably taken it out by now.

Also, this guy, whose name was Matt Foley (I will tell you more about him in another post.  He liked to wear my clothes sometimes). Also told me that you cannot suspend someones license if it is from another state.  Wrong again, Foley!

I was out of work for 2 days.  I think my dad took those two days off work just so he could sit at home and yell at me. I was like hardcore grounded for two days at the age of 22.

An old trick learning new things

It has become that time during the semester where I reconsider my entire life.  This semester I thought I would just say FUCK school, let’s join the circus.  I had one volunteer to come with me.  I have to engage with a group of my “peers.” I don’t do groups, even group sex is not for me.  GROUPS.

Today in class we had a very lively conversation where I used my outside voice at least once, regarding tech.  Specifically tech in the classroom.  It made me homesick for my old life.  Parts of it. I genuinely liked writing code when I did it every day. I haven’t written a single line of code in…probably 6 months? I don’t even know.  I am ashamed to admit that.

So, whatever.  Anyway. I was all worked up from this conversation about tech, so I was like fuck it, let’s see if I still got it.

My husband, in his many years of wisdom brought by being with me, said “Please work locally. Do not touch the production server.”  I see how it is.

So I am driving home from school all “woe is me, I can’t read another fucking thing today.”  So instead of input, I did output.

Ok, this is what I did.  I did a blog post about a year and a half ago on the MCS site about using LESS to mathematically choose color palettes.  So I was thinking, I bet I could get it to pick contrasting colors.

That’s what I did:

/* Mixin */
@base: #c3d59a;
@complement1: spin(@base, 180);
@complement2: darken(spin(@base, 180), 5%);
@lighten1: lighten(@base, 15%);
@lighten2: lighten(@base, 30%);

/* Implementation */
.una {color: @base; height:100px; width:200px; float:left;}
.due {color: @complement1; height:100px; width:200px; float:left;}
.tre {color: @complement2; height:100px; width:200px; float:left;}
.quatto {color: @lighten1; height:100px; width:200px; float:left;}
.cinque {color: @lighten2; height:100px; width:200px; float:left;}

This is what it looks like (compiled CSS):

/* Mixin */
/* Implementation */
.una {
color: #c3d59a;
height: 100px;
width: 200px;
float: left;
.due {
color: #ac9ad5;
height: 100px;
width: 200px;
float: left;
.tre {
color: #9d88ce;
height: 100px;
width: 200px;
float: left;
.quatto {
color: #e3ebd0;
height: 100px;
width: 200px;
float: left;
.cinque {
color: #ffffff;
height: 100px;
width: 200px;
float: left;

Abra-fucking-cadabra. Maybe I should get a job doing this. Just kidding, I never want to get a job.  I would throw up a copy of the code on the Weenie but I don’t have root access to…anything.  I don’t have root access for anything, even the stuff that has my name on it.

Why is my dog barking?

  • He thinks the Taliban is in the front yard
  • The geese (who we have established a close and friendly relationship with) are in the front yard
  • He wants someone to play with him
  • Nobody will play with him
  • He wants dinner
  • He wants lunch
  • He wants breakfast
  • He wants a treat
  • He wants to go outside and chase lizards
  • He is about to pee on the floor
  • He is tired
  • He lost his ball
  • The beagle is ignoring him
  • There is someone on the sidewalk
  • There is the man with the wagon
  • The man with the wagons kids are talking
  • The man with the wagons kids are singing
  • Teri (The one woman who waited for me to get out of my car, which incidentally I was avoiding her so I was hiding in my car, pretending to have a very animated phone call with myself.  She wanted to tell me her name and tell me she liked the people who lived here before better) is on her twice-daily dog walk with whatever she said her dogs name was
  • The neighbor across the street is having his lawn landscaped
  • The neighbor next door is having her twice-weekly landscapers pay her a visit
  • Someone parked on the street (I bark about this too)
  • There is a bird on the fence
  • There are two birds on the fence
  • There is a bird at the empty bird feeder on the side of the house (We keep it empty to discourage them from living.  I mean eating. I mean eating at our house.)
  • Someone within a 25 mile radius has honked their horn
  • Someone in the gaudy Clemson house has taken their golf cart past our house
  • The house who does CrossFit in their driveway closed their car door too loudly.  (I actually think these people live in their garage.  They never go inside.)
  • The man with the truck that affirms he has a small penis has started his truck
  • The man with the truck that affirms he has a small penis has driven past my house
  • The man with the truck that affirms he has a small penis is at the stop sign at the end of the street
  • The kid who drives a 1998 Chevy Lumina has pulled into the neighbor who barely waves at us driveway and is turning around so that he may park (ILLEGALLY) on the street
  • Someone is weed whacking (which is every day.  See, in my neighborhood there is an award to who has the nicest lawn every month. they get a sign in their yard.  We have never won this award.)
  • The boys who have no manners and have probably been kicked out of their own house are throwing a football to each other in front of my house
  • UPS is here
  • FedEx is here
  • UPS drove by
  • FedEx drove by
  • He thought someone drove by
  • The mail lady is here
  • The mail lady is dropping off a package
  • The mail lady is dropping off a certified letter (which I have to trick the dog and go out through the garage in order for him to contain himself re: her arrival)
  • He thinks he gets to go in the car
  • He is mad he doesn’t get to go in the car
  • He is mad he has to get out of the car
  • He is mad at me for not letting him play in the clean laundry
  • He is mad because i wont let him sit in the dirty laundry basket
  • He is hanging out in the bathroom and he’s not supposed to be
  • He thought he saw something
  • He thought he heard something
  • Someone set off their car alarm
  • The train
  • If I roll over in bed and I don’t take him with me
  • If I make the bed and he is still in it
  • If I yell at him for peeing on the floor
  • Someone goes by on a bike
  • Someone goes by on a scooter
  • Someone goes by on rollerblades (which I don’t think he is necessarily mad, I think he is laughing at them)
  • I have to go get the mail and he’s not allowed to come with
  • I am not paying attention to him
  • Nobody is paying attention to him
  • His ball is stuck behind a piece of furniture that requires that we move said furniture to retrieve it
  • You ask him to wear a jacket when it is 20 degrees outside
  • It’s raining
  • You are not preparing his food fast enough
  • There is no cheese on his food
  • There is not enough cheese on his food
  • You’re eating and he is not
  • You have cheese and he does not
  • He just wants to hear his own voice
  • He is feeling creative and he wants to express himself in song
  • His blanket is not folded
  • His other blanket got caught between the cushions on the couch
  • He lost one of his two octopi
  • He lost his stuffed dog and he doesn’t remember where it went
  • He wants to stand on the table
  • He wants to stand on my desk
  • He wants to stand on my husbands desk
  • One of the other dogs is sleeping were he wants to be sleeping
  • You don’t permit him from sleeping on top of your pillow behind your head
  • His toy is somewhere he is afraid to go, like under the bed
  • Someone other than Teri is walking by with a dog other than Teri’s dog
  • You sneak up on him and scare him
  • You take off his collar for a bath and don’t immediately put it back on
  • Someone else is sitting on my lap
  • My husband is mowing the lawn
  • He is in the same room as the vacuum
  • You sing to him too loudly
  • He gets locked in a room by himself
  • He gets lock out of a room he wants to be in
  • The cable company has come to lower our property values with a random orange cord in the gutter coming from the green thing in my front yard
  • He thinks someone is trying to steal our cable
  • You call him a cat

@scoccaro does sci-fi.

You don’t make any sense
Talking animals are weird
Oh, sci-fi, go away

Children love you lots
You are currently in vogue
So do sad mommies

I’ve been assigned
Reading this book with a bear
Shoulda dropped the class

Sigh, this fucking book
Found in the children’s section
Doesn’t even make any sense

It has a chart, guys
Brand new vocabulary?
Sure thing, sounds super swell

An Open Letter to Fun Bosses

Dear Employer,

First of all, I want to thank you for the blessing it has been to work for you. Really, your jokes are of the finest quality. Since you make so many of them, I often get the hiccups from fake laughing at them every day.  In fact, I fake laugh so much during the day that I go home and can’t fake or real laugh at anything.  My giggle quota has been met by noon, Monday through Friday.  One word of advice, this is more of a general statement to all bosses, not you. Actually not you at all, because I need this job, but you might want to write your jokes down so that you can keep from repeating them.  I know, I know, you’re super fun and sometimes being fun fogs our memories, but really, I don’t want to hear the joke about the fax machine again. “Just the fax ma’am, just the fax.”

It’s not just my eternal unhappiness that you have bestowed on me in the workplace and in my home life.  That I could deal with.  Your idea of “fun” and my idea of “fun” are vastly different. I have no desire to go fishing with you, or to have Bud Lights in the office at 4pm on a Friday; I definitely don’t want to meet your kids. Ever. My idea of fun would the take the mandated Sad Hour at 4:00 on Fridays off and let me go home so that I can cry into a $4.00 bottle of wine without pants on.

Remember that time you made us all go fishing?  We had to get there at 6:00 in the morning and it wasn’t until we were 10 miles into the sound, nauseated, cold, and wet from the spray, that you told us that we were going to be having bureaucratic fun all day.  The highlight of the trip is when you told us all that we each had to catch a fish. Or we were fired.  You laughed, we laughed, you weren’t joking.

Also, are you married? I really don’t know. You wear a wedding ring but there is an endless carousel of young, busty women who you have lunch with.  Some of them even become your assistant. If they are assisting you with your dick, its probably a good idea to stop paying them.

Speaking of your dick, I am not lovely, darling, sweet, or special.  In fact, none of the women in the office are and there has been talk of buying a case of mace and placing it in conspicuous locations throughout the office for when you feel the need to stand closely to any of us.

I hear you drink champagne! Cheap champagne. During the week. At night. In public. Alone. You may be like “wow, you are such a good employee, working until all hours of the night JUST FOR ME,” but that doesn’t give you license to call me at midnight just to drunkenly talk shit about my coworkers.

A brief word about workload, Foursquare does not push ads to your phone.  You did not read it on Mashable (because that’s where you get all your tech news), I don’t know where the fuck you read it because you didn’t send me a link.  But its cool, you’re such a fun boss, I don’t mind spending hours on end Googling every permutation of “foursquare pushed ads” with you sitting behind me and telling me where to click.

Also, Drupal is cool.  Good lookin’ out.

Well boss, the purpose of this is just to tell you what an outstanding employer and human being you are. Thank you for employing me.