No, this is totally different from sticking a crayon up your nose, but the results seem frighteningly similar. If I seem a little less than well disposed to people who flaunt an iPhone, want an iPhone or even worse "need" an iPhone, it all begins from the first few minutes I had an iPhone in my hand.
Sometime during OSCON, I dropped onto a sofa in the lounge. And suddenly, the cushion started to vibrate. I put my hand into between the cushions and pulled out a bright shiny iPhone. Despite multiple cries of "that's mine" from various unlikely sources, I was just holding it up for whoever to pick it up.
And then this guy in a suit walks up and says "I'll take that and thanks for not stealing it". I mean, with a self-satisfied tone, assuming I would want it ? And I wasn't the only one indignant about that, in fact, one of the women (rrichards's S.O ?) around actually took offense and pretty much demanded an apology.
And then the guy turns on his heels & walks away.
I mean, I've found phones in all kinds of strange places before. I've returned phones (yes, in plural) which have cost over a thousand dollars (in return for a coffee). I don't ask for any reward, but at least, I don't need to be insulted while I do someone a good deed.
I think one of the php dudes started referring to that particular person from that point onwards as "the guy who had an iPhone up his butt". And the name stuck.
As much as I adore the iPhone's multi-touch zoom UI, the early adopters who have slammed down six hundred big ones for the phone seem to have a large proportion of shallow hipsters, which automatically triggers a smug alert for me.
So, if you have an iPhone & consider this unfair portrayal, blame the guy who "introduced" me to this particular stereotype.--
Only the shallow know themselves;
The rest of us have depths to plumb.
-- Oscar Wilde
I'm re-evaluating my current hairstyle. No, this is not out of any newly acquired fashion sense, but more due to image-mismatch reasons. I've never had a hair style - I've just had hair PERIOD. But leaving my hair as it is has of late become a slight problem. It apparently is a very misleading signpost.
So, a snippet from a portland street car experience. As I sat in there day dreaming, a young punk girl came and sat next to me. With all dyed hair and multiple ear peircings, she looks about 17 or 16. Hardly the type to skip a window seat to sit next to me. And then the conversation follows.
punk chic: what's up ? (*chin up*) me: uh... just ... *mumble* ... stuff punk chic: got any cigarettes ? can I lift a smoke ? me: sorry, I don't have any. I don't smoke. she: Oh, you don't smoke *tobacco* ?
May all your weeds be wild flowers.