Caden pooped today. Bridget called me while I was on my way in to work to let me know. That is how important baby poop has become in my life.

Not that I mind. It's nice to know that my greatest concern is about the timeliness of Caden's bowel movements. This one was a big deal, too, because he'd been grouchy all weekend with mild discomfort. Maybe it was more than mild, because he was having some serious crying jags, and he's really not one to cry at all. It was heartbreaking on top of it, because he'd lay there trying to understand what was going on in his gut, and not be able to, and trying to fight back the cry, and getting scared and wrinkling up his mouth into a little frown and finally having to let the crying sneak out because he couldn't hold it in anymore. He was scared of what was going on, and there wasn't much we could do about it, besides hold his hands and work his legs up to his chest. What a trooper.

Here's the latest bullshit that happened at the office.

Used to be we could wear jeans here on a regular basis. There's no public traffic through this office; if anyone who doesn't work here is going to show up, they've got a scheduled meeting with someone here. Technically, Fridays were "casual days," but we IT folk kind of expanded that to include every day of the week, because we were always crawling around under desks and shit. And in the summer, everyone was wearing shorts and stuff. If there was going to be a meeting in the office, someone would send an email the night before, saying, "Hey, meeting tomorrow, no jeans, dress nice." That worked just fine.

Not too long ago, CEO decided that there would not only be no more jeans or shorts wearing, but that casual Fridays were right out. Everyone hated this. It seemed stupid and pointless. CEO's Old Asst (who could lay smack down on CEO like no one else could) got all up in his face.

See, CEO liked to come in in the summertime wearing shorts, golf shirt, baseball cap. So Old Asst told him he'd better not show up wearing shorts, golf shirt, and a baseball cap, or she'd put her foot in his ass.

Last Thursday, July 3rd, CEO shows up midday. Guess what he's wearing. Take a wild guess. That's right, shorts, golf shirt, baseball cap.

People were hella pissed. My cohort, John, sent a rash of emails to CTO and others in our immediate vicinity. Then word comes around that someone (I'm not sure who) actually approached CEO and pointed out that he was wearing shorts and breaking his own rule.

His reply: "These are not shorts. These are culottes."

(Note that that is the correct spelling of 'culottes.' I know this because I had to search high and low to figure it out. Check it out at Merriam-Webster.)

It doesn't take long for me to pull up a zillion sites about culottes at Google. Of course, these are all displaying articles of clothing which are sometimes thought of as fat old lady shorts, skorts, or even a specific undergarment. Needless to say, these are all womens' clothes.

What a fucking piece of shit asshole. The guy has no respect for anyone; we're all just supposed to be his peons, giving our undying loyalty to him. Oh and all sorts of money, too, because we all should be making more when the company is constantly talking about belt tightening, and that fuckwad goes on depressing morale, insisting that people work after hours for no additional compensation on his personal shit and having the company pay for all sorts of toys.

I am so getting another job.