skippy dot net

While trying to explain ROFL to Marie at happy hour last night, Carina helpfully explained that it was just like LOL.

Carina: It's just like LOL. Except that you're rolling on the floor.
skippy: Laughing.
Carina: Right, laughing.
skippy: Because otherwise it'd just be ROF.
Mike: Maybe you're on fire?
skippy: Stop, Drop, and ROF

Carina nearly spilled her beer from laughing so hard (she was LOL!).

The point of this entire conversation was an attempt to explain the ROLFcopter image:

And this ironic interpretation of ROFLMAO comes courtesy of Paul:

Update: Scott sends word of ROLFCAT, for more LOLing!

I first read the term "Full-Time Intimate Community" on Joi Ito's post about Radar. Joi describes FTIC as "the close group of friends ... with whom you share presence. Most mobile youths know whether members of their FTIC are awake, at school, happy, sick, finished with their homework, etc. They use their mobile phones to keep in touch with their FTIC usually sending state changes by text message."

I understood instantly what the term meant. I don't use my mobile phone to alert my peers to state change; instead I change my IRC nick (or connect to IRC from my Treo), or set my instant messenger's Away message. My kids don't (yet) text their peers, but they do effectively communicate state change to one another. They play Runescape or Club Penguin with their friends, and know full well what's going on with one another through most of their game sessions. I can only imagine how much texting my kids will do when they are permitted to do so...

Last night dad and I went to a Columbus Blue Jackets hockey game. Two teenage girls sat in the row in front of us, and spent the bulk of the evening sending text messages to their friends (and damn is it hard to discreetly read cellphone text messages over someone's shoulder!). I was equally amazed at the hockey playing skill as I was the skill used to quickly navigate the cell phone interface: one girl would snap a picture with her phonecam, and then in a blur append some text and send it on to four or five of her contacts.

(My ability to watch both the game and the texting perfectly highlights another term I first read on Joi Ito's site: continuous partial attention. I've been increasingly aware in the last several months just how my attention ebbs and flows around a variety of focal points at any given time. It's increasingly rare that I dedicate my entire concentration to any particular task for very long.)

As I think through the implications of FTIC, I realize there are various strata to both the communities in which we participate, and the ways in which we communicate state change. For example, I don't post here too often -- usually only when I feel I have something interesting to say. Most of my "real life" (read: offline) close friends aren't aware of much of what's going on day-to-day with me unless I post about it, or email them; but my peers in IRC know almost instantly things that are happening at work or at home. Carina on the other hand, updates her blog quite frequently, and often with what I consider to be trivial or inconsequential items. I realize now that she's communicating state change to her friends, most of whom keep in touch through LiveJournal friends lists.

I don't have any meaningful conclusions to share at this time. I found the notion of FTIC interesting, particularly as I evaluated my own communities and how I interact with them. How do you communicate state change to your communities?

Mark Pilgrim:

less is better than more, but most is better than both.

Hooray for UNIX jokes!

I woke up at 3 AM this morning. I was wide awake, and spent about ten minutes lying in bed trying to decide whether to get up and start my day, or try to go back to sleep. I ultimately chose the latter. When the alarm clock went off, I got out of bed and stumbled into the bathroom. Floating in the toilet was a small piece of the bathroom ceiling. It was about 2 inches worth of ceiling. I looked up, and stared at the small hole in the ceiling. Carefully touching it, I confirmed that it was wet. Great: the roof was leaking. I put a bucket in the attic at the spot where I think the water is coming down, though it was rather difficult to be certain.

I then left for the gym, for my morning workout. No roof repair place would be open before 8 AM, anyway, so I might as well carry on with my normal routine. Oftentimes when I leave for the gym, I forget a bath towel, and am forced to pay $2 to use one of the gym's towels. This morning I was so focused on remembering my bath towel that I forgot to pack my belt or dress shoes.

After my workout, I drove home to fetch the forgotten items. While driving, I called the company that replaced our roof two years ago. They agreed to dispatch someone to investigate. I called my boss to let him know that I'd be working from home until lunch.

Looking for some small comfort, I set out to make a pot of coffee as soon as I got into the house. Unfortunately, I spilled coffee grounds all over the kitchen counter.

If the day keeps up like this, I don't know what I'll do...

At a recent church fish fry Dad met Peggy, the instructor of the Shanahan School of Irish Dance. The school is literally just up the street from my house. Dad being who he is quickly engaged her in conversation, and was invited to attend a lesson. It seems that it's hard to attract men to Irish stepdance, so the instructor was all too glad that dad might give it a shot. When Dad told me about this, I quickly invited myself, and we agreed to attend the next lesson.

That lesson was tonight. Dad and I met four young women, and two other guys. Two of the girls spent about ten minutes teaching Dad and me the basic steps of "threes" and "sevens". Threes are done moving forward or backward, and sevens are done from side to side. The back is kept straight; the arms are kept down to the side, and slightly behind the hips -- unless a partner is involved, in which case the arm is raised with the man's hand palm up holding the woman's hand. After this quick primer, we were thrust into a real dance. Peggy assured us that as long as we ended up where we were supposed to be, she would consider it a success, and that we would learn the footwork in due time. I only barely ended up in the designated location, and my steps were completely off from the dance, but thankfully no one seemed to mind.

A more complicated dance quickly followed. This was a "progressive" dance, which means that it keeps going until the music stops. We paired off to dance one round, then ended each round by taking the person to the other side as our next partner. In this way, all of the men danced with all of the women, after which Peggy called the dance complete. It was a real challenge to remember the threes and sevens and the general flow of the dance. I only screwed up a couple of times, and never so badly as to bring the dance to a halt, thankfully.

Overall the evening was a lot of fun, even thought it was exhausting! I'm really glad that Dad and I went. I'm also really looking forward to the next lesson! I've long wanted to learn some kind -- any kind -- of dance. I'm not a particularly coordinated fellow, so I'm eager to acquire some physical discipline, even if it's not something I can do with any regularity. I don't think I'll get into the competitive dancing, but you never know...