It was a Tuesday. Or a Monday. A gossamer sheet of vapid torpor had established permanent residence in front of my retinae by this point — my very own Real Life Gaussian Blur. Make no mistake: no matter how light and agreeable Texas beer is, if you don’t put it down for five days, you will experience Delirium Tremens.

At this point I was on full-auto mode, and Ian Lloyd seemed like one of the friendliest faces around. The English have that sort of distinguished oddness about them. The man exuded purpose and decision. Thus, Zen navigation etiquette mandated that I end up walking around the convention center with part of the Brit Pack. Dunstan had some sort of quibble with American ATM’s, and Richard Rutter seemed just a bit less disoriented than me.

That was when Dave Shea spotted us and told us to join him and the gang at PF Chang’s.

“The gang”, including the crowd I was hanging out with at the time, included the following:

• Eric Meyer
• Tantek Çelik
• Dave Shea
• Molly Holzschlag (sexeh!)
• Dunstan Orchard
• Ian Lloyd
• Richard Rutter
• Chris Schmidt
• Porter Glendinning

The dream panel that never was.

So we sat down to eat. Meyer pulled out a copy of “More Eric Meyer on CSS” and said whoever wanted it should fight to the death!™ for it. Next thing you know, everyone’s whipping out their authored books and giving them away. I mudwrestled Dave Shea for the CSS Cookbook from Chris Schmidt and won (ok, so we didn’t exactly mudwrestle, and I didn’t exactly win. I did get the book, though, and I’m totally sure I’d whip his canadian ass on a mud wrestling match — unless he calls me on it, in which case: just joking, Dave!).

So we have all these Web Standards/CSS/Programming luminaries sharing chinese. What does the conversation turn to? Why, Bathroom Design, of course.

You’d be surprised to find out how many insights were thrown around that afternoon. We discussed everything from which toilet paper replacement technology is best (slip-out, no spring, half an arm’s length from the toilet), to the optimum placement of entrances and vents. Next time I’m building a bathroom I’m *so* calling these guys.

But that was not the end of it. We had just finished arguing about the inherent evil that is a cold toilet seat, when Eric Meyer asked:

What are your little quirks?

Try to picture this in your head. This is PF Chang’s, and this table is full of Web Standards evangelistas. People who make a living out of endlessly debating the nuances and correctness of using the <strong> tag versus the <b> tag. In short, this little cherub of a question is being thrown at a tableful of borderline-psychotic, obsessive compulsive types.

You can imagine the rest: There was everything. From the guy who always enters escalators using his left foot, to the one that enforces color segregation on his Skittles prior to eating them:

I’ll have all the groups neatly presented in front of me, and then I can start eating them. One group at a time, of course”

I swear, I’m not making any of this up.

— sergio at 02:04 PM     TrackBack (0)

“What if she reads it?”, he wonders, as he puts the finishing touches on his latest post.

He’s been silent for longer than usual. Once such a big part of his life, his website has now faded into background noise, mute witness to actual living. “Well, sometimes writing about life has to take a backseat to life itself, I guess” — he tells himself as he wonders once again.

What if she reads it?”

He doesn’t even know when it all went wrong. How it happened no longer seems relevant. Sometimes things… they don’t go the way you want them to. It happens. It hurts, but it happens. Sometimes, no matter what you try or say or do, it just doesn’t work out.

He contemplates her picture and thinks about her and wonders what she’s doing. He realizes he has no idea whatsoever (and does his lack of insight have anything to do with how things turned out?). He puts the picture down.

What if she reads it?”

She’ll know he’s still hung up on her. Not that it’s particularly new information, of course. It’s been just days. And they parted amicably, too. Supposedly. Too. And he wonders what happened. How it all got so fucked up so fast. And her answer echoes in his head. Again.

Maybe we’re just not meant for each other”

And he hurts. Because he knows maybe, just maybe, it’s true. He looks over the newest rentals. On the tabletop, Jackie Chan, The attack of the 8-legged freaks and Freddie vs. Jason sit casually next to a fresh six-pack and two cigarette boxes. And as he wonders, once again

what if she reads it?”

he mutters “fuck it” and presses “post”.

— sergio at 06:16 PM     TrackBack (0)

Chatting with kitta:

<sergio> i slept shit all yesterday
<kitta> that might be why your tired
<sergio> my legs are going numb
<sergio> but i can’t arse myself to move them
<sergio> they’re kind of hooked up to the back wheels of my chair
<sergio> a stinging pain is starting to shoot up my left calf
<sergio> and i think i’ve lost sensation in my right foot
<sergio> i really should get some coffee
<kitta> lmfao
<kitta> dude move your legs, go get coffee
<sergio> mmmm… this is what gangrene may feel like
<kitta> lol
<sergio> interestingly enough, after the horrible urgency to move prompted by the stretched tendons sets in… some kind of a nagging, sinking feeling takes over
<sergio> i’m selectively losing sensation in assorted parts of my legs
<sergio> i kind of thought they’d go all at once
<sergio> or in order
<sergio> starting with the foot… then the calf, then the knee
<sergio> but it’s not what happens
<sergio> i think it’s the chair’s edge.
<sergio> it’s sitting right there under my knees
<sergio> it’s kind of cutting circulation
<sergio> wow… now i kind of feel like they’re moving on their own
<sergio> but it’s just the muscle cramps
<kitta> sergio…
<sergio> yes?
<kitta> lol i think it’s time you move your legs and get a fucking cup of coffee
<sergio> ok… i guess i’ll try
<kitta> not too fast, or you’ll fall over
<sergio> mmm…. ankle’s sore
<sergio> feels like millions of tiny ants are walking over my legs
<sergio> resisting… urge… to scratch
<sergio> recovering feeling
<kitta> if you blog about this, i will beat you
<sergio> ooooo! more ants!
<sergio> ankle’s on fire!
<sergio> ankke’s on fire!
<sergio> gaaah!

I’d love to be able to say that this is an unusual morning conversation…

— sergio at 11:26 AM     TrackBack (1)

Back when I was a journalism major, one of our more cynical teachers taught us how to do live TV coverage of Hurricanes and otherwise nasty tropical storms. The technique is amazing in its simplicity, and belies a childlike ingenuity that has stuck with me since.

Here’s how you do live TV coverage of a hurricane:

You don’t.

Ah, but I bet right now you’re recalling that last time brobdingnagian waves were blasting Cape Cod and the reporter was thoroughly flummoxed and could barely keep hold of his coat while earnestly giving his report to the anchorman, who would look bedraggled and torn at the dire situation of his colleague in distress…

Well, it’s fake. Not the correspondent footage, but the conversation. It’s staged.

That’s right. Hurricanes, tropical storms and bigass hails that hit a coast, given their usual demeanor, are quite unpredictable (not unlike some people of the female persuasion I know), and it’s not unusual that a whole day under one will only offer a very small (10, 15 minutes) window of opportunity for the correspondent and cameraman to drag their scared-out-of-their-wits asses out of the shelter and do those nifty reports you see on TV, with palm trees bending all around the reporter and dramatic water droplets on the lense, in thrilling Jaws homage. Thus making your correspondent very difficult to synchronize with the 6 o’clock break for ultra-absorbent tampon ads.

Which is why they usually fake it.

The way it goes is like this: The correspondent and his crew (depending on the size of the story, this may be only the cameraman, or it may involve an off-site producer) go on site. Whilst preparing their coverage, they write a script. One which includes witty banter and oh, John, that’s hilarious, did you ever find that yarmulke you lost at the christmas party? oh, yes, we’re out here right in the eye of the storm lines. Stupid pap like that. This script contains lines for both the anchorman and the correspondent.

Now, when the window of opportunity shows, the correspondent goes out and performs the script, providing time for the (imaginary) asking of questions, and then responding as if he was talking live with the anchorman. Sometimes they fake tech glitches too (What was that, Dick? I can’t hear you! Talk to me Dick!), as part of the script.

When the footage is done, they send it to the network along with the script. This can then be coordinated on air with the anchorperson handling the news report at home, who reads from the script and sticks to the pauses provided by it.

The reason TV networks can get away with this is that they never go out and actually state that this is live coverage. They just go

And now, on to our low-paid correspondent with on site coverage of this appalling story of loss, bereavement and… loss. How you doing up there Mike?”

See what I did there? How I didn’t lie but made it seem as if I’m talking to the guy on the other end? Well, that’s TV journalism for you.

I don’t know how this is handled in the US, but in México, unless you see them state that the coverage is “live”, chances are it’s being manipulated somehow.

Think about this next time people start getting their panties up in a bunch about “journalistic integrity” in the blogosphere.

— sergio at 12:28 PM