Tag: lunch

Another lunch break

Ain’t chasing the carps over lunch, being winter and all. But this will do …

spicylunchbreak

Those wholesome pork sausages mentioned previously, combined with fresh bell pepper, a little provolone, and of course healthy doses of Tabasco.

Well deserved, me thinks, after successfully stuffing Windows Server 2012 (along with SQL Server 2008 R2) into a Mac laptop1

win2012serverR2onmac

MG signing off (to turn down the furnace without recourse)

1) Not necessarily difficult, but definitely time consuming.

Rock n’ roll carp break

When you have forty-five minutes to spare around lunchtime, turn up the music…

One Carp...Two Carp...Three Carp...

Three Lock Box.

We didn’t have an hour and a half, but extended the mix anyway. Thereafter we debated going the one potato two potato route, but concluded that would be too childish even for brethren playing a little midday hooky. And we wound up one short of seven anyway.

Remember, it’s about having fun. Regardless of time or place, although the people certainly make a difference.

MG signing off (because acting like a kid is good every now and then, despite what the adults tell you)

St. Paddy’s Day, stinky style

I’m nowhere close to being Irish, but neither is the majority of the populous drinking green beer at lunchtime. I opted out of the brew (at least until this evening), choosing green water instead. It was a tough outing. There were plenty of fish willing to take flies – those in my immediate vicinity had a hankerin’ for JPL’s Rubber-Legged Scorpions, as well as blood worms and Barr’s Emergers, but I just couldn’t put it together. Maybe I just wanted to get back to the office (unlikely, but you’ve got to give me a gold green star for trying).

my-kind-of-green
The Irish aren’t the only ones whose favorite color is green

On the bright side, as I pulled into the parking lot some dude was walking up from his morning outing. He said he’d picked up eight (bastard), but when he tried to start his truck it was full of bologna. So I gave him a jump. I’d done my good deed for the day, although I’d probably trade a whole bunch of fights plus a whole lotta nothing (and a truck that starts) for a slimy net, a dead battery, and a friendly face.

That’s luck of the Irish for ya’.