Work Laugh Riot

Boss: Where's the hammer?
Me: *laughing and turning around* What?
Sub-boss: This is a serious issue, and must not be taken lightly.
Me: What do you mean? I take everything lightly.
Sub-boss: How many IT managers does it take to change a lightbulb?

And lo and behold, they're fiddling with a little desk lamp. I'm restraining my hilarious laughter until they've left the room.

Gaiman Signing

Neil Gaiman is ...

Ok, wait, I had an entry here. It has vanished into the incoherent babble to which my brain descends when confronted with Neil Gaiman. Seriously, he's Kryptonite here. He's tall and interesting and English and witty and funny and really just one step away from making my fantasy harem list. (That one step is if he and Terry Pratchett had a secret love child that wasn't Good Omens (which is really not much of a secret) - that boy I'd kidnap away for intensely nefarious purposes.)

I finished Anansi Boys while waiting for the signing lines last night to die down, and then knitted in line (dragging a folding chair along beside because I didn't want to wrench my shoulder carrying all my crap in line.) He'd made some comment before his reading about wanting to increase the sum total of happiness in the world, and I would have liked to tell him he'd succeeded with increasing my sum total of happiness, but I'd gotten into a discussion about book lines and Harry Potter with the gal directly behind me in line, and so when I finally got to the front of the line I was unprepared for his hotness and just smiled madly and went away with my books.