Cal Henderson
Blog kitt decided around 21:24 on 5 October 2005 to publish this:Sometime last week, I had lunch with Cal Henderson.
I'm sure if I bothered, I could look up which day it was (okay, I looked: Thursday), but, eh, I'm relatively lazy at this point, so let's just say "last week."
Cal had recently discovered this site. Not surprising, though, as I've linked to this or my other site from BarCamp and SHDH He had commented to me that there was no way he was going to read all of what I wrote on a regular basis, as I was writing too much. He was too busy. So, hey, no problem, I could write anything I wanted about him and he'd never know.
Turns out, however, he lied.
At lunch, he turned to me and commented on my "10 page post about Chris Messina." The actual quote included a fuck in there somewhere. I laughed, and continued to be humoured when he admitted after reading it, he paged back to see if I had a post about meeting him.
I don't, so I have to wonder if Cal isn't maybe a wee bit jealous of Messina.
I met Cal in June at his Carson Workshop on "How we built Flickr". I had convinced Mike to go along, so he was there, too. It was then that I first met Chris Messina and Ryan King, too. The presentation was fantastic. Mike and I agreed it was a good confirmation of our processes.
Well, assuming Cal knows what he's talking about.
I had introduced myself to Cal in the bar after the workshop, though I was pretty sure that 1. he didn't hear my name in all the noise, and 2. he wouldn't remember who I was even though I was one of only two women in 40+ people there. You'd think all the ladies would be memorable, but no.
Fast foward to last month, and SHDH. Similar to BarCamp, I greeted people at the door, told them to label themselves with name tags, indicated where the food, presentations and bathrooms were (three distinct locations, mind you). I'm really beginning to enjoy it, which I think is a bit frightening, actually.
At some point relatively early in the evening, Cal arrived and I reintroduced myself to him. I say "reintroduced" because from my perspective, it was. I knew who the hell he was. From his perspective, it was all shiny and new!. When I said, yes, we had met before, his response was, "Oh? We have?"
In an adorable English accent, of course.
He promptly took my spot at the development table, and started working.
I promptly messaged Mike, "You are now completely jealous of me. Cal from Flickr is here at SHDH." Mike replied that he was, indeed, jealous, then promptly secured permission to go to the next one (November 5th, Mike!).
Cal spent the next two hours effectively ignoring all of as he worked. When I asked him why he bothered to show up if all he was going to do was work on work projects, he commented that working at a house full of socializing geeks was ever so much more fun than working at home alone.
Couldn't argue with that one.
Cal ended up leaving sometime around 2 or 3, after watching the Dojo presentation, switching some work server deployments around, mis-spelling my name with a Y, and trying to root my system with Andy. When he left, everyone started crashing. I fell asleep by falling over sideways on the couch I was sitting in and passing out.
The following Monday was Flickr Fiesta, which I had intended to go to, but was unable to get away from work that evening. I think I was really tired, too, from a lack of sleep on Friday night and too much ultimate on Sunday.
But, yeah, about Cal.
He shortened his name (sur and family) when he had the chance. Works at Yahoo! on Flickr (d'uh). His girlfriend's name is Elina (and she's adorable!). They have a white, medium-hair cat (Mr Kitty?) with different color eyes. He moved down from Vancouver, where he had met Andy Smith (which is how he heard about SHDH).
How do I know this? Well, the night before Webzine 2005, I managed to invite myself to dinner with him and E. Okay, not really, he invited me up to their place to meet E, and E invited me out to dinner with them, but I did feel like I was imposing a bit. Elina is heading off to Art School this semester, which is really cool. Boo that Immigration won't recognize her degree forcing her to attend school to stay here in the U.S. Stupid INS.
BTW, the view from their place is spectacular. And remarkably clutter free. Definitely worth inviting oneself to.
Cal wears only T-shirts and shorts (he owns six pairs, all of the same style, four of the same color).
Even in winter.
Even winter in Edmonton.
The man is clearly insane.
There is, however, photographic evidence that he has at one point worn pants. We think the picture has been digitally altered.
So, now, if you read posts where I'm talking about Cal, you know who I'm talking about.
Oh, and by the way, Cal doesn't know how to pronounce "schedule" correctly.
Cal had recently discovered this site. Not surprising, though, as I've linked to this or my other site from BarCamp and SHDH He had commented to me that there was no way he was going to read all of what I wrote on a regular basis, as I was writing too much. He was too busy. So, hey, no problem, I could write anything I wanted about him and he'd never know.
Turns out, however, he lied.
At lunch, he turned to me and commented on my "10 page post about Chris Messina." The actual quote included a fuck in there somewhere. I laughed, and continued to be humoured when he admitted after reading it, he paged back to see if I had a post about meeting him.
I don't, so I have to wonder if Cal isn't maybe a wee bit jealous of Messina.
I met Cal in June at his Carson Workshop on "How we built Flickr". I had convinced Mike to go along, so he was there, too. It was then that I first met Chris Messina and Ryan King, too. The presentation was fantastic. Mike and I agreed it was a good confirmation of our processes.
Well, assuming Cal knows what he's talking about.
I had introduced myself to Cal in the bar after the workshop, though I was pretty sure that 1. he didn't hear my name in all the noise, and 2. he wouldn't remember who I was even though I was one of only two women in 40+ people there. You'd think all the ladies would be memorable, but no.
Fast foward to last month, and SHDH. Similar to BarCamp, I greeted people at the door, told them to label themselves with name tags, indicated where the food, presentations and bathrooms were (three distinct locations, mind you). I'm really beginning to enjoy it, which I think is a bit frightening, actually.
At some point relatively early in the evening, Cal arrived and I reintroduced myself to him. I say "reintroduced" because from my perspective, it was. I knew who the hell he was. From his perspective, it was all shiny and new!. When I said, yes, we had met before, his response was, "Oh? We have?"
In an adorable English accent, of course.
He promptly took my spot at the development table, and started working.
I promptly messaged Mike, "You are now completely jealous of me. Cal from Flickr is here at SHDH." Mike replied that he was, indeed, jealous, then promptly secured permission to go to the next one (November 5th, Mike!).
Cal spent the next two hours effectively ignoring all of as he worked. When I asked him why he bothered to show up if all he was going to do was work on work projects, he commented that working at a house full of socializing geeks was ever so much more fun than working at home alone.
Couldn't argue with that one.
Cal ended up leaving sometime around 2 or 3, after watching the Dojo presentation, switching some work server deployments around, mis-spelling my name with a Y, and trying to root my system with Andy. When he left, everyone started crashing. I fell asleep by falling over sideways on the couch I was sitting in and passing out.
The following Monday was Flickr Fiesta, which I had intended to go to, but was unable to get away from work that evening. I think I was really tired, too, from a lack of sleep on Friday night and too much ultimate on Sunday.
But, yeah, about Cal.
He shortened his name (sur and family) when he had the chance. Works at Yahoo! on Flickr (d'uh). His girlfriend's name is Elina (and she's adorable!). They have a white, medium-hair cat (Mr Kitty?) with different color eyes. He moved down from Vancouver, where he had met Andy Smith (which is how he heard about SHDH).
How do I know this? Well, the night before Webzine 2005, I managed to invite myself to dinner with him and E. Okay, not really, he invited me up to their place to meet E, and E invited me out to dinner with them, but I did feel like I was imposing a bit. Elina is heading off to Art School this semester, which is really cool. Boo that Immigration won't recognize her degree forcing her to attend school to stay here in the U.S. Stupid INS.
BTW, the view from their place is spectacular. And remarkably clutter free. Definitely worth inviting oneself to.
Cal wears only T-shirts and shorts (he owns six pairs, all of the same style, four of the same color).
Even in winter.
Even winter in Edmonton.
The man is clearly insane.
There is, however, photographic evidence that he has at one point worn pants. We think the picture has been digitally altered.
So, now, if you read posts where I'm talking about Cal, you know who I'm talking about.
Oh, and by the way, Cal doesn't know how to pronounce "schedule" correctly.Okay, look, people
Blog kitt decided around 10:14 on 5 October 2005 to publish this:Okay, look, people, there are two times when you really piss me off when I'm driving, and you really need to stop doing both of them.
The worst? The absolute worst?
When I'm cruising down a street, going the speed limit, and you pull up to turn in front of me, and then wait until the last possible moment before you do pull out in front of me. What the fuck are you thinking? Either fucking wait for me or go! you stupid moron. Don't wait until I'm guaranteed to slam my radiator up your car's ass, go go go!
It's the pedal on the right. The right. The long one on the right.
Use it.
And when you get onto, oh, say a freeway, accelerate! I'm not in my car to watch you inch up to 105 (65 mph). There is a reason why my speedometer goes over 135 (that would be in kilometers, Mom), and it's not so that I can watch your car's bumper at 105.
While we're at it, sometimes there's a reason why I'm going 55 mph in the fucking slow lane. When the husband hands me the car keys with 200 miles on the tank and a fuel efficiency of 55 miles per gallon, and I drive it 30 miles to realize the efficiency is down to 48 miles to the gallon, you had better believe I'm going to draft that truck and drive 55 miles per hour to get that 100 miles per gallon efficiency. Don't think for a moment I'll feel a bit of guilt on trying to get that efficiency back up.
But, when I'm in the slow lane, do not fly up to my bumper then fucking honk you idiot. I'M IN THE SLOW LANE, you idiot. GO AROUND.
Why is the world full of such retarded drivers?
ARGH.
Hmmmm... I think I broke my keyboard pounding on the keys with this post.
Hey look! Backhand fake!
Blog kitt decided around 19:29 on 3 October 2005 to publish this:
When I'm old and senile, in some nursing hospital with my Crazy Cousin Kelly, and we're sitting there laughing and cackling at some inside joke that neither of us really understands (presumably about some young punk with a really cute ass), none of the references in the following email from Wes will make any sense to me.
But for now, it's sheer poetry!
And completely full of inside jokes and references that I might annotate at some point when I get annotation in on this site.
Another thing to add to the list to, um, well crap, after Nationals. Or maybe, after we return from Nationals. WhoO!
Photo credit to Tim Tuttle and his "crappy cell phone."
I almost forgot my note of self-congratulations to us, for making Nationals! I've been all overcome with emotion since yesterday and I'm still not really sure it's sunk in yet (and if Biscuit or Sugar tells you they saw me randomly pumping my fist this morning and/or crying a little, don't listen to them, they are a couple of filthy little liars). It's times like this when I wish I was talented/artsy enough to compose poetry to express what's in my heart, but since I'm not, you'll have to settle for a player-by-player review, in haiku: Sick with flu? No flick? No sweat! Still caught game-winner. Porcelain Bullet. Absent Saturday, Lost two games. Present Sunday. Good luck charm? Bridget. Naked at Four Walls, She undressed her defenders. Handler Brynne Speizer. Defense specialist? Sure looks like his guy's shut down! Christopher Doyle. Who the hell is Quinn? My best guess is he's a Smith. Pink headband, you know. Hair, hair everywhere Breaks his mark like he's not there Great throw, THE Pickett! Very tall. So fast. Q: How do you cover her? You don't. Emily. Hideous? Uh, pshyeah! Layouts a thing of beauty. So good, Kyle Smith. FIRE IN BELLY! Not indigestion! Want-to! Superstar D: Kate. Injured her ankle; No effect on her huge heart. Get better soon, Kitt. Hey look! Backhand fake! Oops, now you are on the ground. Yup, that's Kris McQueen. Tallest girl on team? Maybe a tie. Best throws, though! Leilani Leibert. Like manna from sky Her D came from Seattle. Ah, Lisa Timmins. Ankle? Sprained. Shoulder? Like an MLB pitcher's. Heart? Superb! Mark Smith. White visor backwards Chugging on D, flowing throws Dr. Pei-lin Hsiung. Hands inside his shirt Using dump-swing as weapon Cap. Warren Schechter. No ACL? Hmm. No problem! Throws are too good. Dr. Smut Randall. Game winner v Fish? RSD calls her "small girl". But she plays huge: shwu! Orientation? Oh no! But wait! The season! Not over! Heidi. All he does is score. Well, that and win crazy bets. Oh, and drink. Paul Youn. Wrote essay on plane Probably about her D: Steffi Wu, gone wild. Is cheer mispronounced? Gimme a D! D! What does That spell? Kevie hucks! 3 foot vertical Never, ever, ever drops. Dr. Tim Tuttle. Catch. Dump. Swing. Break. Flow. Like water in the river The disc in Whit's hands. Am I an athlete? Take that, inner fat kid! Nyah! Who else? It's Wes! Duh. Did I forget you? Tell me; I'll write two haikus. I am old, you know. (Hope you enjoyed reading as much as I enjoyed writing. YAY MISCHIEF!) Wes.
"Kitt, get rid of the target on your chest."
Blog Yeah, kitt finished writing this at 08:49 on 3 October 2005
10-12
11-12
12-12
13-12
14-12
We won. We were in the game to go to Nationals. The game to go. Against Flycoons, who we had lost to yesterday, but knew we could beat. They had a second round bye, and so had played only two games at this point to our three. We knew somewhat how they played (throw short to their men, waiting for the huck to their women to open up). We knew wanted to win.
We went up 5-0 before they scored their first point. I was completely clobbered by a woman in the third point when she turned to cut deep, right into me. We full-body collided and I went flying end over end backward. I didn't think it was a foul, and said as much, but it hurt.
They brought it back to 5-4, and threw a zone defense on the next point. I was popping, which means I needed to run into the cup to reset the count and pop the disc through. Having worked their men a couple times through the cup, I went in again and somehow knew there was a defender coming up behind me on a particular throw.
The men on Flycoons are 6'5" giants. I'm not kidding. I think five of their players are over 6'4", with probably 9 guys over 6'. So, seeing the shadow of a large player coming from behind is scary when you're a 120 pound woman. I went agressively to the disc, caught it decisively, and then closed my eyes.
I was tackled from behind by the defender coming aggressively to the disc, but had to come through me to go there. He landed on my left leg in a contorted way. I had white pain shooting up my leg, and, in a terribly embarrassing moment, began screaming obscenities at the top of my lungs. I later apologized to the guy for screaming curse words at him. I wanted to hide my face.
Turns out, it was a bone bruise on the shin. Coupled with the charlie-horse on my other leg's thigh, and I was in bad shape.
Linda walked over to me and told me, "Kitt, get rid of that target on your chest. What's up with your getting clobbered? I don't know anyone else who gets hit more often than you."
Yeah.
Evetually, they went up 7-6. We took half at 8-7, then continued to 10-7. They responded going up 10-11.
We won 12-11, on a strange injury call.
We're going to the Show!