February 2007

This has been long-awaited here in my world — my new blog, Techyum. It’s in be-yootiful beta, meaning that there are still a number of things that will get cleaned up visually, and it’ll likely soon have ads on it. It’s been a passionate dream of mine for a while; a place to blog about all the news, tech and shiny things I see in my daily (and nightly) blog-news surfing — things that don’t necessarily go on these pages. I spend so much time on the internets, and get tired of sending cool links to other people. So, here’s Techyum. I’ll be doing a video series with it as well, spoofing the retardo-CNN chicks-surfing-the-web segments — starting tomorrow or thursday. It’s for fun. Hope you like it, and I promise it won’t take me too far from the beloved, oft-contentious, naughty-as-a-schoolgirl shores of Tiny Nibbles.

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A while back I wrote about crazy plot developments in the Sex.com saga, when the mis-appropriator of the URL’s lawyer was nearly murdered in Tijuana. Yeah, it’s like that. Well, it looks like Stephen Michael Cohen showed up for his court date, surprising at least a couple of people following this trainwreck (including me). According to the Businessweek article, however, the judge was utterly nonplussed.

Oh — and Cohen showed up looking like a bum and asked to have the millions in debt erased because he’s, like, poor and stuff. Read the deets in Sex.com hijacker pleads poverty.

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This is not a dream.

Tonight, two hours ago. I’m driving home in a car. Market street, rain, desperate cutting cold outside, and traffic picks back up so I begin to roll forward. A slide sound, on my left side, like the sound of skateboards racing down a hill, and I see a flash of shiny and black, low to the ground next to me, that keeps sliding slower, slower, and stops. Maybe 15 feet ahead of me, and as the car bump-bumps over an object — I see it’s a motorcycle.

Have you ever hurt someone?

I’ve been in fistfights. Many. Once, I was with another female friend, back when I lived on the streets; bleach-blonde Sugar and I stuck together, protected each other, begged for food together. I was 15. Three girls, punk chicks from Chicago, decided they were going to beat us up. There were no words when it happened. Lisa, their ringleader, quickly and quietly punched Sugar in the face. Sugar hit back, and another girl cold-cocked Sugar from the side; it sounded like an exhale. Instantly auto-focused, I slammed this girl in the face with my fist, hard, and quickly turned to the third girl right as she punched me in the cheek, and I hit her back in the face fast, and grabbed her by the jacket, lifted her up over a railing. We were on a bridge. I wanted nothing more than to hurt her, I wanted nothing more at the moment than anything else up to that point. I felt sharp, like a thing that cuts. She looked down over her shoulder, then right into my eyes and said in a hysterical whisper, No. Please. I slowly slid her down, to the ground. The fight was over.

I’ve hurt hearts, too. But usually my own.

My living nightmare was the minute tonight I rolled over a bump in the road, realizing that it was the person who should have been on the motorcycle. The bike should have been upright, he should have been on it, and I should have seen it all happen. But I didn’t. His bike slipped silently on the Muni rails and went down like a whisper. The sliding motorcycle was louder than a man hitting the ground. My focus went from blurry to clear, to ultra clarity.

He was pinned to the ground by his backpack — under my front left tire. Listening carefully to Hacker Boy, who’d jumped from the car to help, I reversed slowly, freeing the rider. The smell was of gas, on pavement, in rain.

Have you ever run over a human being?

I never, ever want to. The rider got up and I worried he was in shock. Rudely, cars drove by us, honking as if we were just hanging out double parked, blocking traffic. I was shaking — the rider came over to me and reached in the car window, held my hand, and we looked at each other. He said, “We’re cool. I’m okay. It’s not your fault.” I told him, I ride too. This is my nightmare.

With the help of a (very rude) gay biker bystander, Hacker Boy and the rider got the bike off the road. In a twist of historical irony, Hacker Boy, who remained calm and sweet, is the survivor of one of the worst motorcycle accidents I’ve known — his femur is metal. (And yes, as a Crash/SRL fetishist, I find his extensive scars irresistible.) I hung out in traffic for a bit, and exchanged info with the rider, who joked, “Oh, and this is my business card… if you want to open an account at Wells Fargo…” and we laughed.

I’m going to give him a call in a little bit, and see how he’s doing.

I thought of the worst thing first. I don’t need to tell you what that was.

Update: Had a nice chat today with the rider, who is quite sore but had a pretty lucky fall. His knee is bruised, he has some road rash, and his thumb is swollen and won’t quite bend all the way but he tells me he doesn’t think it’s anything more than “a basketball sprain”. The bike is in the shop getting an estimate — it left a fat pool of oil on the road, sigh. I told him to call me if he needs anything, of course. He’s a sweetheart.

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Geek Sugar has a pretty tame — though interesting — list of their top five sexy gadgets. I’ll admit the HTTP panties are pretty cute, even thought they’re not gadgets, duh. Anyone have suggestions for what’s missing from this list? Like The Toy, the iBuzz 2, or anything else?

Update: Reader D responds, “I mean honestly, getting off on your iPod is great. But how could they leave out the Trance Vibrator for the PS2 game Rez? Is there anything more wonderful than losing yourself an interactive acid trip of a video game? Yes. Getting you or your girlfriend off at the same time.”

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Wow — I just found out I’m in the voting pool for Valleywag’s VLOG HOT: Glamazons Heat 1. I’m in a lineup of vlogger glamazons! Of course, I urge you to click over ASAP and vote with your conscience. This ain’t the Osc-tards; we’re real, live vlogger babes. I do regret that I’m in competition with both of my number-one femmebot vlog crushes — hotnesses Casey McKinnon and Gala Darling. OMG, will I even vote for myself? Seriously, it’s so flattering being nominated and in a lineup with these women, it makes me want to hide in a ditch. It’s surprisingly fitting considering that in the next two weeks I’ll be launching (and starring/co-starring in) not one but *three* new videoblogs.

Okay, now I have to clench fists, emit a high-pitched wail, and run in tight circles for at least five minutes straight. Then I’ll roll in a pile of assorted cables. w00t! I do wish they’d picked this more recent photo instead, tho… (Update afterthought — and just *pick* a better picture of Casey or Gala, wow.)

Update: Yay! They changed my photo to one taken this year! (The first one they picked was from Macworld 2006, w3rd.) Eeee! Also — thank you to everyone who’s voted for me!

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