Sentences with phrase «probably work something out with»

I mean, I could probably work something out with group sales for a bunch of us to sit together for a game next season.

Not exact matches

I don't really remember where the term «high frequency» when it comes to life (probably something Jen Sincero said in one of her books), but it's the amazing feeling of when you're firing on all cylinders — which is honestly incredibly hard to do these days with so much going on (work, finding balance, time, etc.) Finding that high frequency is a art form, but ironing out what the things are that help you get there makes it a little more attainable.

Visually appealing and off - kilter enough to remind even the worst cynics that games can actually have a fun core and work out from there — rather than building something then trying to figure out the fun part — BlazBlue: Calamity Trigger offers an interesting distraction, which might not be enough for hardcore fighting fans (who probably played the game to exhaustion years ago), but I'm not one of those people so I actually had some fun with the game.

I read it last night and woke up with a response, something I probably needed to work out for myself, and I ended up calling it commodification.

This is something you'll probably have to deal with every time you come out of the shower or when you are pretty tired after work.

Something to keep in mid as you plan your itineraries is that while some of the satellite fairs offer a great way to discover new talent, unusual venues and a new approach of creating and presenting work, you should probably start with the main fairs and then venture out.

It went something like this: hotel check - in, locate room, locate wifi service, attempt connection to wifi, wonder why the connection is taking so long, try again, locate phone, call front desk, get told «the internet is broken for a while», decide to hot - spot the mobile phone because some emails really needed to be sent, go «la la la» about the roaming costs, locate iron, wonder why iron temperature dial just spins around and around, swear as iron spews water instead of steam, find reading glasses, curse middle - aged need for reading glasses, realise iron temperature dial is indecipherably in Chinese, decide ironing front of shirt is good enough when wearing jacket, order room service lunch, start shower, realise can't read impossible small toiletry bottle labels, damply retrieve glasses from near iron and successfully avoid shampooing hair with body lotion, change (into slightly damp shirt), retrieve glasses from shower, start teleconference, eat lunch, remember to mute phone, meet colleague in lobby at 1 pm, continue teleconference, get in taxi, endure 75 stop - start minutes to a inconveniently located client, watch unread emails climb over 150, continue to ignore roaming costs, regret tuna panini lunch choice as taxi warmth, stop - start juddering, jet - lag, guilt about unread emails and traffic fumes combine in a very unpleasant way, stumble out of over-warm taxi and almost catch hypothermia while trying to locate a very small client office in a very large anonymous business park, almost hug client with relief when they appear to escort us the last 50 metres, surprisingly have very positive client meeting (i.e. didn't throw up in the meeting), almost catch hypothermia again waiting for taxi which despite having two functioning GPS devices can't locate us on a main road, understand why as within 30 seconds we are almost rendered unconscious by the in - car exhaust fumes, discover that the taxi ride back to the CBD is even slower and more juddering at peak hour (and no, that was not a carbon monoxide induced hallucination), rescheduled the second client from 5 pm to 5.30, to 6 pm and finally 6.30 pm, killed time by drafting this guest blog (possibly carbon monoxide induced), watch unread emails climb higher, exit taxi and inhale relatively fresher air from kamikaze motor scooters, enter office and grumpily work with client until 9 pm, decline client's gracious offer of expensive dinner, noting it is already midnight my time, observe client fail to correctly set office alarm and endure high decibel «warning, warning» sounds that are clearly designed to send security rushing... soon... any second now... develop new form of nausea and headache from piercing, screeching, sounds - like - a-wailing-baby-please-please-make-it-stop-alarm, note the client is relishing the extra (free) time with us and is still talking about work, admire the client's ability to focus under extreme aural pressure, decide the client may be a little too work focussed, realise that I probably am too given I have just finished work at 9 pm... but then remember the 200 unread emails in my inbox and decide I can resolve that incongruency later (in a quieter space), become sure that there are only two possibilities — there are no security staff or they are deaf — while my colleague frantically tries to call someone who knows what to do, conclude after three calls that no - one does, and then finally someone finally does and... it stops.

So, you're probably looking at this thinking, «I thought she was only going to maybe do a valance...» well, that is true, I was only maybe going to do a valance, but then my chairs sold out and I had do come up with a plan B. So, after hours of searching for something similar, and clients and friends alike sending me options that might work, I stumbled upon these beautiful and fun stools and knew what I wanted to do.