Wednesday, Oct 26, 2005
Remember four months ago when a production company dropped a quarter-million bouncy balls repeatedly down the streets of a neighborhood in San Francisco?
Well, they've finished production of the commercial. Watch the 60 second commercial. It's everything I'd dreamed it would be and more. Rachel and Ali will both understand, but for different reasons.
Having trouble watching the video? local mirror [18megs, quicktime]. Watch it. It's so pretty it almost makes me cry.
Tuesday, Oct 25, 2005
Stickers have a strange power as physical manifestations of moral, ethical, or otherwise societal accolades. Whether it's a gold star on your 5th grade spelling quiz or a donor sticker on your drivers license, stickers make us feel things, and sometimes they grant us permissions as well.
Last Saturday I got my HOV (carpool) access stickers for my Prius, meaning I can drive in carpool lanes during restricted hours even if I'm by my lonesome. The stickers, annoyingly orange to clash with my red car (which still doesn't have a name after two years!), say "ACCESS OK" and are visible from each side of my vehicle. It's sort of a holier than thou priviledge, especially when you consider that my mileage would actually be better in slow traffic than in the carpool lane, flipping the stats of the average vehicle. Nevertheless, if the law uses this carrot to encourage hybrid sales, who am I to argue. I'm even reducing gridlock by one car.
The trouble is that I rarely commute during these peak hours. I usually leave for work at 9 when the lane ends, and I leave work after 7 when they end again. Yesterday I raced out of my last meeting to clean off the corners of my car, apply the stickers, and get on the road in time to jump into the diamond lane a few minutes before everyone else could, but I ended up getting on the freeway at 7:03 for no joy.
It's 5:25 now and I'm making a point of coming home early to test the power of four thin pieces of yellow plastic that get me home faster than if I had a 160mph sportscar. Ironically, this is life in the fast lane.
Sunday, Oct 23, 2005
You know what's better than a Reese's© Peanut Butter Cup?
Anyone else's peanut butter cup.
Don't get me wrong, Mr. Reese makes a nice confection -- quite the vending machine lure -- but a cup you can eat in a bite? Even if you don't have teeth?
Real peanut butter cups make you feel like a pig if you get half the cup in your mouth in a bite. Real peanut butter cups are an actual cup of solid chocolate, filled with actual peanut butter (hint: real peanut butter oozes. It doesn't flake), with a thin top of more actual solid chocolate.
Real peanut butter cups would be embarassed if they were offered as a mix-in to augment other desserts. Real peanut butter cups aren't condiments.
That is all.
Friday, Oct 21, 2005
Sometimes, when Rachel and I kiss, one of us will at the last second dodge and lick the other's nose and run away.
Endearing as this is, it's not the best idea when the lick-ee has a cold. Sure enough the next day the tables had turned and while I'm finishing up with my cold Rachel's on the same path, two days behind.
Thursday, Oct 13, 2005
Thursday, Oct 13, 2005
Having spent plenty of time on both sides of the interview table I can really appreciate James Dilworth's advice on how to make a good resume.
It only takes one viewing of The Secret of my Succe$s or Working Girl to realize that these movies are dated more by their spirit-crushing office dynamics -- endemic of the 80s -- than by their clothes, music and hairstyles.
People are people, and the more you can present yourself as the full package of person + professional the better your chances of geting a job where that kind of expression is valued.
This shouldn't be confused with packaging your personal life in a synthetic college-application candy striper/big brother/triathelete veneer. It's about being at home with your skills and yourself and not trying to seperate the two to give recruiters and hiring managers what you've been taught to think they want.
Tuesday, Oct 04, 2005
My internal bar of what's postworthy has been climbing steadily for the last several months to the point where the constant walk of existence never gets talked about on this blog.
Anyhow, here's a bit about what's going on in my life...
I went back to Pittsburgh last week on a recruiting jaunt for Google. My coworker Elizabeth and I had a great time talking to Carnegie Mellon's Interaction Design and Human-Computer Interaction masters students, and I'm looking forward to talking with them more in the coming year. This is the second time I've been out to CMU recruiting for Google, and each time being back on campus gives me this warm feeling. Sure there's nostalgia, but it's more like there's a room in my mind that I forget is there until I open it once a year. I don't think I'd want to live in Pittsburgh again, but the memory of having lived someplace so other, the feeling of singular purpose, such a shift of geography, sociality, work mentality and all the rest, and knowing that such change is not only possible but even beneficial, is a good feeling to have, and one I'm glad to be reminded of now and again.
I used to be bad about making flights at the airport, but I seem to be getting better at it. I don't mean to say that I get there early enough or plan for long enough connections, but rather that I'm getting better at making the flights anyhow.
Moments before hearing the Delta quote I posted last week I was running to the security checkpoint at San Jose International, where there was a member of Delta's ground crew asking if there was anyone else for the Atlanta flight. I and the girl in front of me both said "one more!" and he told us to hurry (though it was still 10 minutes before stated departure. Clearly we had another 3 minutes to dawdle!).
Scrambling through security, bags on shoulders and shoes in hand we ran sock-footed from security to the gate, down the jetway, into the plane and down the aisle to our assigned seats. Along the way I asked my neighbor in line if she'd ever taken her shoes off before getting on the plane and she informed me that the practice was "way ghetto".
Finding my way back to row 25 I was grateful to find that there was no center passenger next to my window seat, and as the gentleman in the aisle seat got up to let me in, I can only attribute praise to my 'ghettoriffic' socked feet and tennis-shoes-in-hand as the aisleman opted to find another seat on the plane, leaving me with the blessed cross-country row all to myself.
Five hours later I would have traded my empty 25th row for a crowded center seat in row 4 if I'd realized we would be getting in 30 minutes late for my 42-minute connection window at Atlanta. While spending 12 minutes simply getting off the plane ("Let people transferring get off the plane first? Hon, this is Atlanta. Everyone is transferring.") I commiserated with a large traveller behind me, hoping to make the same connection to Pittsburgh. Seeing that I was traveling lighter and with a more heady dose of optimism, he asked me to let them know there was one more coming. I promised I would.
Huffing my way down the left-rib of Terminal B to the inter-terminal subway, I found the subway there with open doors, which I leapt through just as they were -- well, staying open. Just as I was about to feel foolish for my dash the doors closed 2 seconds later and I got a 30 second respite as the train made its way to Terminal C.
Back out of the subway I dash up the escalator and run to the end of the terminal where I find my gate -- empty -- with only a single crew cleaning up the placard. She looks up at me. "Pittsburgh?"
To the radio: "One more, okay?"
"Send him through."
She re-opened the jetway door (I have never seen anyone ever re-open a jetway door!) and let me through. Walking down the empty tunnel to my fate I turn over my shoulder and say, "There's one more coming. I know you can't do anything for him, but I promised to deliver the message."
As they closed the jet's door behind me, I found myself hoping he got a good hotel room and an early flight.
Wednesday, Sep 28, 2005
"We realize you had a choice betwen several bankrupt airlines to fly today, and we thank you for choosing our bankrupt airline."-- my Delta Airlines pilot this morning
Wednesday, Sep 21, 2005
Every now and then I stumble across an interesting or amusing Flickr tag. The tag du jour is pun.
Monday, Sep 19, 2005
Hey y'all, don't forget that today is International Talk Like a Pirate Day!« Newer Posts Older Posts »
It's also the day I'm having a filling done, so expect my hearty 'Yarr' to be a bit slurred. Perhaps I can convince people it's "Talk Like a Drunken Tongueless Pirate Day."
Hi, I'm Kevin Fox.
I also have a resume.
I'm co-founder in
The Imp is a computer and wi-fi connection smaller and cheaper than a memory card.
We're also hiring.
©2012 Kevin Fox