Just arrived in NYC for the SOA/Web Services conference I'm attending. Gotta love the shoebox you get for a room here at the La Quinta (La Cucaracha) Hotel.
In the past 24 hours the stock price of Cubist shares has been up 25% due to the fact that our Phase III trials of Cubicin in the treatment of endocarditis and bacteremia were positive, and we will be filing an sNDA with the FDA for approval to use it in these indications. It means lots more sales of our already well-selling flagship drug. Ooo-rah. Go Cubist.Growth Around the Corner? (Motley Fool)
I've officially been at my new job for one week. So far, so good. I'm sure that will change rapidly, but at least it's not Cubist.
Last night one of my cats killed a mouse and tried desperately to bring it inside. It's funny to see him with just mouse feet and a tail hanging out of his mouth while trying to meow. He ended up just leaving the lifeless rodent outside. It was gone when I woke up.
The unthinkable has happened. I have re-joined the work force by accepting an offer from Cubist Pharmaceuticals. My official title is Web Developer/Junior Systems Administrator. Yup, that's a sysadmin job. I am really exited about that part of the job because it's something I've never really formally done in the past. I've got a lot to learn in that arena, but I can't wait to start. As a bonus, my direct supervisor is a fantastic guy who will (no doubt) get me on my feet in no time. HP-UX, here I come.
As you probably noted, I will be working every day with my brother Chris. God help the IT department. Maybe we can get Billy in there and watch the overall productivity plummet like a stone in a pond.
Special thanks to Chris, Tony Murabito, Mike Geldart, and Kelly Schmitz for all they've done for me over the past few months to get me hired.
I spent some time at the Concord District Court today. I fought a speeding ticket I got back in April. I had been traveling down a side street off of Rte. 2 in Acton to try and avoid traffic. Up around a corner I go, when suddenly...the fuzz. I looked down at my speed. Thirty-five. So I'm thinking since this a 25 zone, he's gonna bag me. Sure enough he pulls me over. I was hoping for maybe a warning, you know. One of those olde tyme Irish street cop "Git outta here, lad, before I change me mind!" hair-tousle-and-let-you-go type situations. Not quite. He wasn't really a dick or anything. In fact I don't recall him saying much of anything when he handed me my ticket for $175. Yeah, it said I was doing 45 in a 25. On top of that there was a $25 "Massachusetts Head Injury Fund" surcharge or whatever. WTF? If I'm gonna pay twenty-five bucks, I better damn well get my money's worth of hacking someone in the head with a hatchet. I mean, $25 ought to at least pay for quick swipe at some chump's melon using an old board with a rusty nail in it.
Well anyway, I told them I was doing 35, not 45 and the Magistrate said "I'll give you the minimum fine of $75, then." Sounds good to me. I neglected to ask whose head I get to hideously disfigure, though. I guess I'm probably better off.
The unthinkable has happened. I have re-joined the work force by accepting an offer from 
