Life in the Valley is not all hacking. While the really Big Brains of our project are at the Web 2.0 meet-up in the Big Apple, I get the week off to triage all the little bugs in my very buggy code. Once the bugs go away I can think about the real problems of the Real World: the sub-prime mortgage fiasco, the new Android phone that’s going to stomp the beans out of the iPhone, and of course, the tumors growing in my bladder.
About 6 months ago I started pissing blood. My doctor said we’ll do some tests. We did. The urine test came back abnormal, which led to a CT scan of my bladder. I’ve always been lucky, so I thought, this will turn out to be nothing, as always.
Wrong. My urologist called to tell me that tumors were filling my bladder. We scheduled surgery for the end of March, 2008.
To make a long story short, I was scared when I went in for surgery. I had ugly visions of the bladderless life. But I’ll spare you my thoughts of the Meaning of Life and my new understanding of the word mortal. Things turned out O.K. The tumors are “low grade”, and non-invasive. They will not convert into more dangerous tumors. I’ll live. These tumors will not kill me. but they are a nuisance and will return.
If you’re going to have cancer, make sure you get the good kind.
The first thing I noticed on my walk from the Caltrain station was the unusual number of Maseratis and Ferraris parked in front of the coffee shops on University Avenue. Usually I see those things on the cover of the car mags like Road and Track or Car and Driver. You know, the magazines you read in the waiting room before you get your teeth cleaned.
In front of the Apple store some socialist-anarchists are picketing pointlessly, holding signs that say “Apple hires rats.” Something about labor practices at the world’s biggest online entertainment vendor. Behind the pickets there’s a line of iPhone zombies that stretches around the corner down to the Thai restaurant in the middle of the block. Every day since the Gods’ Own Phone came out they’ve been lined up, waiting to meet God. To bad they’ll have to buy their pretty phone from a rat.
I’m standing in Peets waiting for the rude chick behind the counter to take my order. Usually I like Peets, but this particular store seems to have fallen off the radar. It looks more like a Kwiki-mart than a high-toned coffee boutique. The only thing missing Lotto machine by the cash register. While I’m thinking about this, Johnny Big Balls pulls up in front the the store straddling a pimped-out BMW motorcycle with saddle backs and tassels on the handlebar. He’s costumed head to toe in shiny black leather, like the gimp in Pulp Fiction. When he pulls off his helmet we see a 60-year vet of the Valley Wars. He looks old, beaten and empty, with bleary, weary eyes.
My friend who knows everything about everyone in the Valley nudges me. “That guy’s a tool. He was the developer behind w*****.com. When the VCs came in, they ripped his balls off and shoved them up his ass. He was so desparate for funding that sold his fucking balls to the Suits. And the fucked him good. Now he just rides around that piece of shit motorcycle all day dreaming about how the Good Old Days when he used to have balls. That’ll never happen to me.”
The rude bitch finally gets to us, and I say, “Pardon me, miss. Did you know that the toilet isn’t bolted to the floor. When I pushed the handle to flush, it almost fell over.”
“Tell me about it,” she said. “You need room for cream?”
Yes. I always need room for my cream.
Doug Putnam has been teaching PHP at CCSF for almost a decade. He is currently teaching courses in PHP and Ruby at the City College of San Francisco and the College of San Mateo.