Or am I in Santa Clara? Either way, I have the large-bathroomed “handicapped suite.” I am dogged by the persistent yet subtle aroma of feces — or at least old people. I should be seeking a Kinko’s to print something, but instead I want food and a deep sleep.
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The pizza is on it’s way, along with a 2 liter of Pepsi. It’s an old fashioned sleepover in the poop room. I’m going to watch some Doctor Who and Mighty Boosh until I pass out.
No, not the super fun Brazilian band CSS, the web technology called CSS. Eric Meyer asked if I would join his posse, but I wasn’t up to the initiation, which involves a semantic beatdown.
I suppose that if I were to say “jet” you wouldn’t also need to hear “plane” to know what I was saying — seeing as there aren’t very many jet boats around and the promise of jet cars was never fulfilled. All to my endless dismay. Todaymow (the amalgamation of today and tomorrow that is created when you are awake into the tomorrow of what was once today but is now yesterday, but nonetheless you don’t really want to let go) I fly to San Jose for a MySql conference. After three days of manning a booth and fighting sleep during sessions, I will migrate to San Francisco to accompany Sarah on miles of walking around the city. We just watched Zodiac. I’m not allowed to touch knives in Sarah’s presence anymore — or wear the black hood.
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