I have received a couple of emails asking me to contribute my two cents to the “white male” debate about the blogosphere. Since I’m a little tied up doing actual work, I shall simply direct you to this entry about BloggerCon 1.
"Do You Have a Kiss for Daddy?"
My old friends from Crazy Go Nuts University, Ashley Bristowe and Chris “Turner” Turner, have a name for their baby inspired by the Greatest Movie of All Time (Ferris Bueller’s Day Off): Sloane.
Her full name is Sloane Lantau Bristowe Turner. “Lantau” is derived from the island on which Hong Kong’s International Airport is located. The reasoning is explained in their post. “So that’s how it’s done in their family,” as Principal Rooney would say.
(Luckily, they did not name her after the actual airport itself, which bears the funny-in-the-Beavis-and-Butthead-sense name of Chek Lap Kok.)
Bike

Pictured above is my primary means of getting about Accordion City, the
Scorpion King. For getting to and from work as well as travel within
the core of Accordion City that doesn’t require me to carry large
parcels, a bicycle is by far the most cost- and time-efficient means of
getting around. It’s also non-polluting and a good way to burn off some
excess calories.
I suppose I could ride one of those “city bikes” or “urban hybrids”
that everyone seems to go for these days. They’re essentially
mountain-bike-ish designs tweaked for city use, and were I the sort of
person trying to shave seconds off my trips, I’d probably get one.
However, there’s a certain charm to the old 1950’s style “cruisers”
that other bikes lack, and having fenders and a chain guard allows me
to dress nicely and bike at the same time. I’m not a stickler for
authencity; I prefer cruisers with hand brakes and gears over the
no-gear versions with coaster brakes that serious cruiser aficionados
go for.
While my bike is my means of transporting myself to and from my
workplace, for some, it is their workplace. Frank Duff is one person
who works on his bike. In September 2003 — roughly around the time I
left independent contract work to accept a full-time job at Tucows —
Duff left the world of programming to become a full-time bike courier:
There are a
number of reasons why the courier life was particularly attractive to
this budding young programmer. Part of it was of course standard Office
Space fantasy. But there was more. Gibson and Stephenson had taught me
that the messenger, the mailman, was a vital romantic figure. The
soldier of the information age.
And I won’t
pretend that I was blind to the fact that, in this urban world, the
devil-may-care deliverator is something of a sex symbol.
And besides, I liked to ride. I loved it.
Duff writes about why he chose to leave the “in the mind” world of
computer programming and go into the “in the body” world of the bike
couriers.
My street musician hobby has given me insights into Accordion City and
the people on its streets that otherwise would’ve escaped my notice. Duff seems to have had the same experience as a courier:
And
couriering will teach you to know your city in ways you never imagined.
I have always loved Toronto, but if you will forgive the metaphor, I
feel that my relationship has transitioned from that of a secret
admirer to that of a lover. I can call up at will the most intimate
details of the financial core and of various tendrils extending
therefrom.
You will
develop a camaraderie with the other peoples of the street. You will
find yourself exchanging knowing nods with hot dog vendors and buskers.
Even mailmen and FedEx drivers (with whom couriers share a mutual
conviction that each’s job is superior to the other’s) become your
brothers and sisters of sorts.
He’s also discovered the power of street cred:
And yes, if you have even the slightest bit of charm, you will have plenty of opportunity to pick up hot receptionists.
Being a bike courier isn’t a job for everyone. It’s
hazardous work; there are a lot of car drivers out there who think that
bikes don’t belong on the road and many more who just have no idea how
to share the road with cyclists. It can be unpleasant biking all day
when it’s 20 degrees below freezing. It also doesn’t pay terribly well.
He says that it worked out to CAD$7.00 an hour when he started out; I
made more than that selling sno-cones in high school, and that was in
1985 dollars. This must’ve been a drastic change from the paycheque he
was collecting as a programmer.
In spite of all the drawbacks, I must credit Duff with taking a chance
and seeing if he was really doing what he wanted to do. I’ve always
said that if you’re going to spend half your waking life doing
something, it shouldn’t be something you hate or dread.
Charlie’s Realtors
Speaking of house-hunting, here’s an amusing real estate ad I’ve been saving for just such an occasion:

If my life were a Winnie the Pooh
book (the A.A. Milne version, not the Disney version), the subtitle for
the current chapter would be “In Which the Accordion Guy and the
Redhead Search for a House”.
Unfortunately, Sunday open houses all take place at the same time —
between 2 and 4 in the afternoon. That limits the number of places we
can see today, so I’m taking Wendy on a walking tour of some
neighbourhoods to give her a better “feel” for them, which should be
helpful since she’s not from around here.
See you folks at Kickass Karaoke later tonight!
Congratulations to my old friends from Crazy Go Nuts University, Ashley Bristowe and Chris “Turner” Turner, on the birth of a healthy 8-pound 9-ounce girl!
Out There
While surfing around, I found some interesting material I thought you folks might enjoy:
- How Lisa Came to Israel, Part 6:
Back in January, I pointed you to Lisa’s blog, which had the first five
installments of the story of how she ended up moving from Canada to
Israel. She’s been busy, but at last Part 6 has been posted! In case
you missed them, she’s posted links to earlier installments.
- Someone beat Vanilla Ice to that rhyming couplet! Deenster
writes about a song she learned
at the Hasidic day camp she went towhen she was very young:
All the animals that we eat
must chew their cud and have split feet
but kosher meat just can’t be beat
i want kosher meat to eat!
So…Take your ham and take your bacon
i won’t eat themyou’re mistaken
I’m a Jew and I’m not fakin’
I want Kosher meat to eat!
The
“bacon / fakin'” rhyme sounded familiar, and moments later, it dawned
on me: years (probably decades) after the song above was written, we
got Vanilla Ice’s Ice Ice Baby:
Now that the party is jumping
With the bass kicked in and the vegas are pumpin’
Quick to the point to the point no faking
I’m cooking MC’s like a pound of bacon
In honour of these songs, here’s a little stanza I wrote called “Asian Dietary Rules”:
If it’s got four legs and isn’t the table
Cook it and eat as long as you’re ableThat also reminds me of Dizzy Gillespie’s Hey Pete, Let’s Eat More Meat [Windows Media sample | RealAudio sample].
- Liz “mamamusings” Lawley’s Video Game Store Lament. After a
terrible experience getting a PlayStation 2 for her son at the local
video game store, Liz came up with an interesting idea:
Sometimes I think that what I ought to do is open up the ultimate gaming spot geared towards parents
as well as their kids. There’s not much out there that targets tweens,
really. The hands-on museums are for the younger set. The game stores
and arcades are more for the teenagers (and the parents hate being
there). So why not create a place that tweens will love, and that their
parents won’t mind taking them?
One
of the projects we’re working on here at the Research and Innovation
department of Tucows is games, so this sort of this is interesting and
relevant to my work. I’ll write more about it in the upcoming weeks.
- Somebody actually tried it! Julie Leung read my posting about deep-fried Oreos and actually made them. (Yeah, it’s a post from a while back, but I’ve meaning meaning to point to it for so long.)