Microserfs

Karla said the relationship had to be somewhat serious because "you know how hard it is to lure anybody down here from San Francisco." She's right. You could offer San Franciscans a free Infiniti J30 and they'd still have some excuse not to drive 25 measly miles down to Silicon Valley.

Actually, there's a slight back-and-forth snobbery between the Valley and the City. The Valley thinks the City is snobby and decadent, and the City thinks the Valley is techishly boring and uncreative. But I can see these impressions starting to blur. This all sounds like that old Joan Baez song, "One Tin Soldier."

* * *

While taking Misty on a walk with Mom through the Stanford Arboretum, Mom was telling me about this conversation she heard between two people with Alzheimer's down at the seniors home where she volunteers:

"A: How you doin'?

B: Pretty good. You?

A: How you doin' ?

B: I'm okay.

A: So you're doing okay?

B: How you doin'?"

I laughed, and she asked me why, and I said, "It reminds me of America Online chat rooms!" She demanded an example, so I gave her one:

A: Hey there.

B: Hi,A.

A: Hi, B

C: Hi

B: Look, C's here.

A: Hi,C!

B: CCCCCCCCCC

C: A + B = A + B

A: Gotta go

B: Bye,A

C: Bye, A

B: Poo

C: Poo poo

"This," I said, "is the much touted, transglobal, paradigm-shifting, epoch-defining dialogue to which every magazine on earth is devoting acres of print."

* * *

Oh - Misty's fur was covered in burrs, and it took us fifteen minutes to remove them.

* * *

Mom really has all of this new energy now that she swims every day. And her confidence has swelled enormously since winning the swim meet. She's been restacking her rock pile with extra vigor.

THURSDAY

Astounding gossip meltdown: Susan and poor, meek little Emmett Couch, our manga-phobic storyboarder, went nuclear. It was SO embarrassing - right in the middle of the office Emmett started bellowing, "You just think of me as a piece of meat, Susan - I'm not sure I like that."

And Susan said back, "I don't call you a piece of meat. I call you my

fuck toy."

(Susan surveys room for rebuttal, we all sit there, pretending to work, our eyes like sad-eyed velvet painting waifs, staring at our keyboards.)

"Well, I'm not sure I like that," Emmett says.

"Well, what do you want - to take it further? You want a relationship?''

"Well . . ."

"Stop sniveling. I thought the deal was, we just have sex and leave it at that. Don't annoy me. I have to get back to work."

So Emmett went back to work. We, of course, were silent, but the instant-mail was flying on each other's screens. Blink blink blink. We were riveted. Poor Emmett's in love, and Susan doesn't want that. Or maybe she likes this type of relationship. People always get what they need. She's truly earned her stud medal on this one.

* * *

I went to Price-Costco. My weekly job is to purchase in-office snacks, all set up in an IKEA shelf unit in the kitchen. Everything costs 75¢.

Mr. Noodles (for Dusty)

Pop-Tarts

hot chocolate mix

Cup•A•Soup

granola bars

Chee•tos

Famous Amos cookies

Fig Newtons

microwave popcorn

BBQ potato chips

* * *

Karla, Bug, and I went on a tour of "Multi-Media Gulch" later in the afternoon. What a joke. There's nothing there! Or rather, there's lots of stuff around the north end of the Bay Bridge, in around the warehousey neighborhood - many companies doing cool things - but there's no public interface, so you might as well be in any warehouse district anywhere. No T-shirt stands.

* * *

We met up with Jeremy, who, as it turns out, is highly into body manipulation: tattoos, piercings, and (scary) branding. He's really political and he talks about queer-this and queer-that and the whole thing reminds me of our office's recent fling with Marxism, and I try and pretend it's fascinating, but my mind does wander off. Like when someone starts describing their stereo.

I couldn't help thinking, though, that it was a good thing Bug moved to San Francisco - being gay is such a nonissue here. You could be an ultrapolitical gay activist or a gay Republican; there's no overriding clique dominating. And fortunately for Bug, there seems to be a bigger dating pool to draw from than in Coeur d'Alene or Seattle.

Anyway, Bug, Jeremy, Karla, and I stopped by Body Manipulations on Fillmore Street. The guy in front of us was waiting to get a "Gigue" - a pierce inserted onto the strip of skin between the scrotum and the anus.

"But your body is your hard drive!" said Karla, to embarrassing withering stares of everybody in the store.

Karla, Bug, and I blanched and Bug asked Jeremy if his earring could wait. Jeremy was furious and stormed out. So the piercing's on hold, at least temporarily, and Bug is in the doghouse with Jeremy. Bug said, "I think there's a lot about this new culture I don't quite understand yet. I'm coming to it pretty late."

* * *

Whenever Abe e-mails me, he uses a fast-food-related tag line. I've compiled a list. Herewith:

Ample Parking

Ask Your Manager about Unionizing . . . No, Don't

Batter-fried Batter: Yum

Backlit Plexiglas Signs: Excellent BB Gun Targets