I WISH I KNEW WHAT THIS WAS

There's an area of skin on my right arm (basically where the tricep is) that's weirdly sensitive to the touch today. It doesn't seem discolored or in any way visually unusual; it doesn't even really hurt when touched, it's just kind of ... bothersome. Anyone know what I'm talkin' 'bout here? Or is my body pioneering new ways to be annoying?

FOR THE LOVE OF ALL THAT IS HOLY

Can this entire "McCain suspends campaign because of economic meltdown" thing be what causes his entire Presidential bid to lurch to a grinding halt and vomit enormous quantities of smoke and mangled engine parts. Please, please, please, please. I'm just saying. The machine is down. Let us take a page from the book of Ender and kick it repeatedly with neutronium boots until we're dragged away. I don't wish the man any personal ill, I just want to make sure that neither he nor his terrifying idiot running mate get within a thousand miles of the Presidency.

I try not to even pay attention to election coverage, but I could not help this. We need 2008 to be The Year America Called Bullshit. We need it so bad.

JUST IN CASE

I want everybody to know that should I somehow be in a position to do so, I will not actually be having sex with my doppelganger. I sense that I am in the minority on this particular issue.

INSPIRATION FOR OUR GENERATION

It occurred to me a while ago that what we need is a new kind of inspirational movie for kids. You know that movie where there's an old summer camp or a youth rec center that's being bought by an evil corporation, or an old white man, and a ragtag group of down-on-their-luck ragamuffins teams up to put on a play or win the big boat race and save their beloved gathering spot? Let's have one of those, but with crimes instead of antics.

"Come on, guys! We can do this if we just believe in ourselves! And also get some guns!"

"Lucy, Fat Billy, even little Jo-Jo: the magic is inside each of you. It's in your hearts, and in your heads, and in your pockets, where you keep your knives."

"Old Man Wilkins sure will think twice about trying to buy the rec center now! Especially since we sent him his daughter's left hand in ice!"

+7 DEXTERITY

I don't want to be That Guy On The Bus, but it was literally impossible to not notice the girl sitting directly across from me today who chose her bus ride as the correct time to apply a serious amount of makeup. She put some color on her upper eyelids with a weird felt-looking stick thing (eyeshadow?), some sort of powder on her face that was probably unnecessary, and used a cone-shaped, bristly brush on her eyelashes that she dipped into a container periodically. Is that what mascara is? I don't know the first damn thing about makeup.

Here's what I found impressive about this: a bus ride -- particularly this morning's brake-happy bus ride -- is generally not the most stable of environments. There are a lot of bumps and sudden starts and stops. The very real-seeming fear of accidentally stabbing an implement covered in chemicals deep into my eyeball at any given moment would prevent me outright from even attempting this action, much less accomplishing it with any degree of skill. So props to you, bus makeup girl, even if you didn't actually need any of that paint on your face in the first place (she was really pretty; did I mention that).

UNKLE INTRO

You know what it is I'm talkin' bout? "Somewhere in space, this may all be happening right now." I wonder where that even comes from. I could google it, I bet.

[beat]

It was from the original intro to the very first Star Wars trailer! How about that.

This phrase sticks in my mind because there's just a bunch of stuff happening, and I've only just gotten back from my Boston trip. My next completely free weekend is at the beginning of next month. This is the life I lead now.

Incidentally, if we did not hang out while I was in Boston, rest assured that the next time I come back there, we will. That was my first business trip ever; next time I'll be a total pro at it.

But now, having used "google" as a verb, I have to confess to you the following: every time I see somebody who works for Google, I have the urge to, like, salute them or something. Between the search engine,* maps, calendar, docs, Android, Chrome, and mail -- son of a fuck that is one hell of a list and Android isn't even out yet -- Google is doing the Weyland-Yutani and building a better world. I realize this reference is fraught with subtext; I am sorry, but their company slogan is perfect for Google now. Rus, Dave, probably a bunch of others by now who I've lost track of -- never stop rocking.

* I mean yeah, GIS and all, but have you looked up the name of a band recently? They're doing some sort of specialized music search thing now that's kind of awesome.

JUST SO WE'RE ALL CLEAR

I have been in Boston for the week starting Sunday but if we haven't hung out, it's not because I got no love for you. It's because I have been busy as a motherfucker -- sometime I'll get a chance to visit this coast and not be in the midst of work and social obligations. You are all still excellent people and I regret not seeing every single one of you. This is information that you need to know in your hearts.

RAISES MORE QUESTIONS THAN ANSWERS, REALLY

What's going on in Fresno, people? I can understand maybe carrying spices around if you're going to rob somebody's house -- you throw them into the homeowner's eyes if he comes downstairs looking for what made that sound -- but rubbing them onto the guy while he sleeps? This is not an idea that should have made it past QA. You have to admire the use of sausage as a weapon, though, considering the dog-disposal angle. Where's the evidence? This mystifying combination of genius and utter nonsense behavior indicates that drugs had to have been involved, though probably in smaller quantities than you might think.

TELL ME THIS, THEN

Nobody I know has been able to give me a sufficiently coherent reason why SEX APPLE isn't the greatest band name ever. The only one that comes close is that it sounds like it might be some sort of Steve Jobs fanwank band, which honestly. Please.

In other news, I'm about to take a trip to Boston for business, and I'm perversely looking forward to the fact that it might rain. Storm, even. We don't get thunderstorms in San Francisco, which probably strikes you as a strange thing to miss, but after this many years, it's undeniable.

I CAN'T BE THE ONLY ONE

You know what would be really useful, Twitter? If someone starts following me, I would love to be able to tell at a glance whether that person and I have any followers in common. Also? Alphabetical sorting on my own followers would be nice. And the people I follow. Maybe you're already working on this. If so, I'll let you get back to it. Don't mind me.

I AM GOING TO TALK ABOUT COMPUTER PROGRAMS NOW

- You know what I wish for above almost anything else as far as Gmail goes? Wouldn't it be nice if it let you manually thread emails? "These all belong in a thread together." Maybe this just appeals to the organizer in me.

- Scott McCloud's still got it, motherfuckers, even if you never doubted it for a second. This makes me excited to try, use, and love Chrome, but I can't begin until I know someone's written an FTP tab extension for it. I'm addicted to FireFTP and will not be abandoning it for love or money.

- I guess I could also use Twitbin for Chrome.

- Somebody let me know when the latter two things happen. I'll be in this hermetically-sealed techno-sarcophagus awaiting the release of Android.