Dear Mike: Love your site. But Ted Dziuba and I would like to see one little enhancement to your TechCrunch Layoff Tracker. It doesn't list false positives. That is, if someone spamblasts everyone in the tech media on a Saturday night with an email that says "Elance laid off 20% of its staff on Friday," I want to be able to search the Layoff Tracker for Elance and find out if your ace reporting team has broken the story or not. I don't want a match on "freelancer." I want "Elance: TechCrunch has not yet broken the news on Elance layoffs." It's what, ten lines of PHP? I can pop down to Atherton and type it in. No wait: Have Ted do it. He needs something to do in between his new weekly columns for The Register. Watching Pressflip run out of money gets old.
I had no idea what this email was about. It seemed designed to get me to go to some website. For a second I thought, what if I forgot to pay Barney's New York again? Do they harass you online now? Yet after I clicked the URL at the bottom, I still didn't understand the story. Is it a blog, a splog, or a dog? On the Internet, David Sedaris might drone, no one can tell if you're human. Chief, if you want my attention, send me your next layoff.
After the line to get into PureVolume Ranch hit capacity around 2 a.m., the RVIP Lounge played host to a raucously geeky afterparty. As we idled outside the Hilton, this fellow from Pay Per Post, a company even Arrington thinks is evil, tried — and failed — to board. Party maestro Jonathan Grubb denied him. The grounds? Part of the fun of owning an RV is that you can decide who not to share it with. The dude's response, after pouting that he "wasn't interested in [Grubb's] RV anyway"? Slinking out of his Pay Per Post t-shirt and attempt to sneak in later. I snapped this photo of him hovering in the doorway, mid-fail, for your pleasure.
At a party for SXSW in Austin tonight, a man who got back to me too late to have an anonymous three-way screw back in January approached. Did he recognize me from my half-photo on Craigslist? Had he saved my voicemail chastising him for missing the fun, in which I'd said "You can't get this on Facebook"? Did he want to catch up on the missed opportunity? Yes, yes, and yes ... but then he turned to Owen Thomas and pitched his startup. Look, bub, you may get your chance with me yet. But after hearing your pitch, you'd better have more staying power than your company.
Remember Chadrick Baker, the fellow who loves women who love tech? We hear he met Julia Allison at SXSW, an object of his alienated affection, and the two made up. And we also hear he's discovered the future of the Internet. It has something to do with logging onto Facebook and MySpace at the same time. This kind of thing always sounds better with beer.
Today's Examiner features a front-page story on Moose's, the recently remodeled North Beach bar-with-a-very-nice-restaurant-attached that Valleywag has taken over as our Friday happy hour spot. Co-owner and bar dominatrix Valen "rhymes with Van Halen" West lets Owen park his PowerBook right where 20th-century gossip legend Herb Caen's typewriter used to be. I'll be there, too, with a couple extra pairs of sunglasses in case you forgot yours. 4 p.m. until Owen's corporate card maxes out. 1652 Stockton Street on Washington Square. Valet parking for Valley people, or the 9X/30/45 lines for Munitards. (Photo by Jason Steinberg/San Francisco Examiner)