So my friend PVH alerted me to Dig a Tech Girl and Dig a Tech Guy - two "Hot or Not" sites for tech industry workers. It's no surprise that the tech women are for the most part marketers and vloggers; however, there only seem to be 1-2 pages of tech men and no sign of Mashable's leading man, or my personal crush, the amazing Linus Torvalds.
Linus my little Pingu, while you are not safe I am not safe, and now we're really in the total animal soup of time.
Don't forget to register for Linux World next week, the Exhibit Hall pass is free until the 3rd and the kick off conference keynote features the DARPA Grand Challenge robotic car.
UPDATE: In the spirit of "Hot or Not" I just found this Top 10 List of Female Stormtroopers. You know, with my physique I'm bound to get an honorable mention on an Ewok list.
Jesus. I'm at jury duty and the orientation video is bloody awful. While a woman in the video was raving about how much she enjoyed the thrill of the judicial system, two Latina women rolled their eyes and I started laughing. I've only been here for one hour but everything and everyone is beginning to look dowdy. I've counted 33 people guilty of fashion crimes against humanity and one guy on a cellphone guilty of acting like an arrogant loser. There's tension in the air as everyone sits quietly crafting a plan to get excused from their case.
Weird Science: Barbie, AutoCAD & Robert Downey Jr.
I just re-watched Weird Science last night on Hulu and while I really enjoyed it, a number of questions arose. 1. How did the film manage to cast Robert Downey Jr AND "Hook" (of Hook and the Daggers) from Thrashin' as stock bro villains? 2. How in the world did an oafish ham like Steven Seagal manage to marry a dishy babe like Kelly Le Brock? 3. And lastly, how could two high school kids build an autonomous humanoid robot using AutoCAD, a barbie doll and some scanned Playboy photos? Did the Christmas miracle scene get cut?
I remember hearing the stories about how politicians used to cite War Games to illustrate the potential threat to US security, but honestly...Matthew Broderick probably can't even program his TIVo to record his wife's Sex in the City reruns. If computers, programmers and robots were half as powerful as they are in movies like War Games, Weird Science and Real Genius, the world would be a different place. Imagine the data transfer speed required to manufacture and transport Kelly LeBrock through a phone line in a single evening? Amazing. Thousands of sexy ladybots would be down at the Apple Store right now waiting in line for our new iPhones.
Once again, our good friend Joe Newton convinced us to suit up for New Belgium Brewery's Tour de Fat. Once again, we found ourselves in ridiculous costumes wheezing uphill on 50lb cruiser bikes. Last year's Evel Kneival costumes were slightly more elaborate; nevertheless, this year's Hells Angels theme better captures our mutual respect for the Canadian tuxedo. (Head-to-toe denim)
To sum it up, Joe won the slow race, the Sprockets bike dancing group performed, and we all shared a cold day in Speedway Meadows. More pics here.
Yesterday's Mashable party was fun. I told Scott Beale I loved his photography, I met some really cool art and film-related tech folks, and I called someone a creep with a smile on my face. Dale Carnegie would've been proud. The morning was another story. My power cord stopped charging and I went to the Stonestown Galleria because I was afraid of downtown iPhone fanaticism. I got lost, there was a lineup, and my assigned Genius was a kid humming Cigarettes and Chocolate Milk while wearing Geordi La Forge glasses. I tried to plug in at the nearby Tully's and was told I couldn't, despite the free wifi. I just got home and it's freaking 4:00 pm. Sometimes I think reality and SF's population density is enabling my underachievement.
After returning from a day of camping and hiking, we set off to Oakland for dinner and the Crucible's Fire Arts Festival. Fire performers, a steam punk tree house, and the pinball museum display were all interesting aspects of our evening, here's an overview of some of the best in show:
EXXOTHERMIA: Beetle-like ice-seeds burrow into a solid ice structure while propane bursts shoot out of the top. Basically, you're looking at the hugest vodka luge ever.
FLAMETHROWER SHOOTING GALLERY: Two bubble makers produce regular intervals of hydrogen, oxygen and propane bubbles while the public has a chance to explode, pop or simply ignite them with red hot rods. I just checked out maker Matisse Enzer's group Art Police, and it turns out they've worked with the Grateful Dead, Ken Kesey and Wavy Gravy for Berkeley City Council.
PYROCARDIUM: We stood in the center of a ring of fire torches while holding a stethoscope fashioned with a microscope to our necks. The flames synchronizes to our heartbeats. Literally and figuratively big-hearted, friend Morgan Crowe lit up the sky while testing the pyrocardium. I'm a little surprised cartoon vultures didn't start circling overhead when it was my turn. I had to run on the spot to get a pulse.
It's 6:21am and I just finished a phone interview. I can't go back to sleep. I've had too much coffee and I have to pack for camping on Angel Island. I just checked Twitter and tons of people are awake and standing in line at the Apple store for the release of the new phone. I once walked across town because I didn't want to wait in line for a prescription. Maybe I'd be more patient if I was being filmed by Pete Cashmore, Mom Generation's vote for Hottest Male Blogger. But honestly, a Tim Horton's double double and a honey cruller would be more likely to appease me. I wish someone would vote for me as a "hot blogger". The problem is I'm always being photographed stuffing free cheese and honey crullers into my purse.
Both Canada Day and American Independence Day reinstate an age-old tradition of drunkenness followed by the age-old tradition of a morning shot of aspirin with an orange juice chaser. In my days spent recovering, I've been trying to find a meme that sets Canadians and Americans apart. Handsome B. Boyfriend is spreading a rumor about a drop bear-like fictional animal for Canadians to share, but it isn't catching on. I've decided I'm more proud of the West Coast cities I identify with (both in Canada and the US) than I am of either nation as a whole. Imagine if cities were to take up arms and defend themselves. San Franciscans would be solely defended by CEOs on wake boards and BMW motorcycles. It would be the only city with more war correspondents than soldiers. Vancouverites would employ assassins in Lululemon ninja attire to pour vats of piping hot Starbucks onto unsuspecting rivals. And Victorians would sink the BC Ferries, fill their coolers with pies and cured meats, and kayak like hell up the Georgia Straight in the belief that dying in the ocean would be a vast improvement to surrendering to those smug Vancouverites. It would be over in a few days, at which point we'd realize that a "true patriot" is just someone who tries their best regardless of the situation. Ah CanMeriDa...