The WSJ stole my idea

Last June I wrote about the Dunbar Number and social networking.

This week Carl Bailak at the WSJ jumped onboard and did the same thing with his article entitled "Sorry, You May Have Gone Over Your Limit Of Network Friends"

Now all I need to do is figure out how to let them know where to send the royalty cheques....

Can anyone spare a rifle?

I've been in Nashville for the past few days for work. I already am overwhelmed by the highways and miss the ocean breeze.

On the flip side I was given some good hunting tips today at lunch by a group of engineers.

I also have heard rumors of a Coyote Ugly bar in town.

It shall be an interesting week...

Remember, remember the fifth of November

Great Movie, and today I have an excuse to watch it again.

Remember, remember the fifth of November,
The gunpowder, treason and plot,
I know of no reason
Why gunpowder treason
Should ever be forgot.

I still have my mojo. I think...

"I don't give out my number, but if you give me yours I'll be sure to call."

"How will I know?"

"I always call guys back that have an accent."

It had started innocently enough - what I thought was a couple on the plush chairs at Starbucks, relaxing and enjoying their drinks. Beside them were two empty plush chairs, facing the two they were sitting in. Not wanting to interrupt their conversation I made the international gesture for "are these seats taken". She gave me a look and quickly replied "Sorry, they both are." After a brief moment she broke into a smile and said "Just kidding, go ahead."

Getting lost in my thoughts I didn't pay attention to their talk. A while later he finished his coffee and headed off, while she started to pack her bag to go. As she got up she realized she needed to navigate around me to get out.

"Can you excuse me please?"

"No" I replied with a deadpan tone, dispensing payback without even thinking twice.

It took a second but she looked over and thinly smiled. "Ahhh, good one! Quick witted!" She stopped, tossing her hair to the side in a I-just-got-picked-up head flick. "Now that I have his number don't the guys give high-fives or something?" She continued on, adding some hand gestures. "You know, up high, down low, slide the fingers." Oh wait, I'm dating myself, I'm 34 so you probably don't know what the heck I'm talking about. Being only slightly younger than her I smiled silently to myself.

"Ok... got to go to the bathroom. Can you watch my stuff? I mean, you can leave, but if you don't that would be better. It's just my coat and scarf I have, but they are nice...”

I nodded and she headed off. After a few minutes she came back and plopped down on the plush seat.

“Thanks for watching my coat.” She looked me up and down – without looking me up and down – and continued on. “Aren't you a bike courier? You've got the biking jacket and shorts, with good legs and calves. I'm just assuming." Then she thought for a moment. "No...are you an Stock Broker? I mean, it’s 2 in the afternoon and you’re just hanging at Starbucks reading some business type book.”

"Was that what he was?” I replied, gesturing to the empty seat that the guy chatting in when I sat down. I did her them talking occupations, with the direction of gold-digging in her voice.

"Yeah, that’s what he said. But he was too old. Do you think I should call him? I should have told him I'm not dating.” She looked back at me again. “So what kind of job do you have that you can wear shorts to a meeting? Can I call you Biker Boy?”

“I’m a writer. You know, those people that hang out all day and watch other people so they have something to write about.”

"Oh, a writer? Oh my god, I'm so embarrassed.”

“That’s good because you just talked your way into something I will probably write about.”

She giggled “Hmmm, can you call me Isabella, no wait Paisley. If I see Paisley written somewhere I will know it was about me.”

Thankfully her swooning was interrupted by the ring of my phone with Sandritia coming up on my caller display. From four blocks away, she must have sensed the situation through her girl senses. “Sorry, I need to grab this” I noted, pulling out my phone.

“Hello?”

"OK LP, I'm ready for a night on the town. You ready to go?"

"Yep, I’ll be on my way now and meet you there in a few minutes.”
I closed my phone and bag in one swoop, standing and readying myself for departure. “Have a great day Paisley. I’m sure there will be a stock broker coming in sometime after the markets close.”

“See you Biker Boy!” I heard her call out as I stepped out onto the street.

As I left I realized I didn't give her the high five. Maybe it was for the best. When I get home I'll ask my wife and she what she says. I'm sure she will agree...

Logical Philosopher Becomes a Blogging Preschooler

For the past few months Little LP has been taking drum lessons. Our goal was not to find him the noisiest instrument possible, but rather to channel his energy from banging on all the good furniture into drumming on a set of rubber drum practice pads.

Now, with a 4/4 beat down on the high-hat, kick-drum and snare, he has been progressing onto triplets and paradiddles to the beats of Tom Cochrane and Stevie Ray Vaughn. After seeing him play one of the 12 year olds having lessons exclaimed “Man, he’s going to be sooo cool when he gets to be in grade 6!” While he is far from banging out some Neil Pert solos, he can keep tempo with AC/DC’s For those about to Rock. Not bad for a 5 year old.

Another year of blogging has come up me - I am entering year 3 - the preschool years! While my posts have slowed down I have been working on more quality than quantity. Like Little LP, I’ve been working on the literary equivalent of triplets and paradidles, instead of just bashing the tom-toms all over the page and hoping some semblance of beat shows up in the form of well crafted prose.

In early January I started back to work, which shifted me towards writing more “Crazy Me” stories, instead of the historic “Crazy People” posts. To be honest I have missed being downtown watching the crazy homeless people and animated Starbucks yuppies providing me with stories. But I now revel in being at work where I can watch the crazy telemarketers from the building next door and animated Facebook Addicts updating their status between meetings. Blogging fodder – take it where I can get it.

You may be asking, what does this mean for the next year of blogging? I should be back to work full time, but plan to keep up with my posts, because I am hoping with all this writing practice I will become “soooo cool” when I get to the blogging equivalent of grade 6.

And when we all get there you’ll be able to say you knew me when I was still fumbling with the differences between a prepositional phrase and when to use an indefinite article.

Principal's Office

Little LP was sent to the Principal's office today for punching another boy.

Not so surprising, except keeping in mind he is five and only in kindergarten. The other side of the story is that he swung back at the other boy, after he hit him first.

As a parent I am struggling between having my child hit someone elses child, and having my child not back down to the bully that hit him first.

pause

Now that I think about it, I'm proud of little LP for taking the swing back! All those days of watching Star Wars with him paid off. He's taking after Han Solo - the revised edition where Greedo shot first

I worked it out: Only 2500 days of school left between now and grade 12. That's a lot of days to shoot first.

50 cups of coffee

“I need 3 large totes of your of coffee. To go.”

A look of panic crossed the barista’s face. She turned to her coworker and said “Start making coffee. Now.”

“Well sir, it will take ½ hour to brew that. We can’t use up all the store’s coffee in case people that come in want something as well.”

I looked down at my watch, mentally working out the commute time as compared to my meeting time. “Hmm. What can you do in 20 minutes?” I countered, seeing how far the Starbucks-Say-Yes policy would take me.

“We can do 2 totes for sure. I can do 3 but it will take another 10." I looked at my watch again, balancing off the need for being on time for my meeting, or being late but bringing coffee for everyone.

“Hmmm. Do two. It may be enough.” I added an extra bottle of San Pellegrino to my tab and sat down at the nearest table, settling in for my wait. With no laptop or work with me, I was forced to relax, just like the old days of 2005.

“Hey Coffee Guy!” one barista yelled over the counter at me. “How many people are there? I will have cups and lids ready to go for you as well.”

“50” I called back, realizing I was probably going to screw most of the people at the end of the line out of their drink, or at least make them wait longer. I felt like that big fat guy at the front of the buffet line that takes all the shrimp and doesn’t leave enough for the rest of the line. There were pangs of guilt, but they passed quickly. Very quickly.

She stopped and came around the counter waving her hands. “You can’t serve 50 people with two totes! You need four!”

I looked at her and shrugged my shoulders. Lack of planning on my part was not going to make it an emergency on my part because it was, after all, just coffee. Besides, she seemed to be taking care of being wound up for me. I sat there looking at her, wondering if when I came in and placed my order they all freaked out and had a shot of espresso before tackling the job.

22 minutes later the head barista came up to me. “Ok, here’s the scoop. It’s your lucky day as we’ve brewed a lot of extra coffee and everyone in the past 20 minutes only ordered bar drinks. So I have enough coffee for the four totes. That’s 50 people, easy. And do you need milk, cream, soy or ½ and ½? I can also give you decaf, dark roast or our light roast blend to choose from.”

“Well, I’ll take the three. I think that should be enough. And I’m not sure about the milk thing. Just give me what you think we need. For the coffee type, just surprise me.”

“Are you sure? Don’t you know what people want in their drinks, let alone what type of coffee they want?” Her voice was somewhat accusatory towards me, like somehow she was going to be blamed for me bringing coffee without the right mixes to make it like people want.

I decided at that point I should make my confession. “Look, here’s the deal. I don’t drink coffee. I have no idea how long it takes to brew coffee, or how many cups people drink in a morning. Nor do I know how much milk people need, or if they prefer cream. I just happened to be the guy from the team that was driving by Starbucks on his way to work and was asked to ‘pickup coffee for everyone’. I just made the assumption that when I needed coffee for 50 people, I could stop at a coffee shop and order some, and be on my way, even if I had to wait. And really, I don’t mind the wait and will just grab what I can before having to head out.” As her eyebrows rose at me I could almost hear her thinking How can you not drink coffee? I continued on “In fact, the only think I do know is that when I make coffee ice-cream for my wife at home, I need a free cup of coffee from Starbucks, and a cup is 12 ounces.”

A few minutes later she came out with my 3 full totes of coffee, and 4 venti cups full of cream, milk, ½ and ½ and soy. “I just gave you lots of everything. And just so you know, next time you can call ahead and we can have it ready.” With that I loaded up the car and headed making meeting on time with 2 minutes to spare.

Moral of the story: don’t send the non-coffee guy to pickup coffee for everyone. He may be late, will probably get the wrong type of coffee, and not bring the right mixers. The only reason I was saved was because of the barista, who must have felt the pain of my coworkers and ensured I had enough of everything.

Epilogue: I get to my meeting and put the coffee out for everyone. At the end of our presentation, everyone filed out of the room, having only drank the equivalent of one tote of coffee. That left two full ones there, standing beside 4 full venti cups of milk mixers. So now I know, people at my office drink it black, if they opt to drink at all. Lesson learned.