Randi spent much of our 4th of July weekend fretting about poor Larry. Now I don't have anything personal against Larry Ellison, but I had been looking forward to a romantic getaway in Sonoma County (north of San Francisco) with Randi rubbing my back and cooing poor Bobby, not poor Larry
This is Randi's cell phone. Please leave a message." Those are the words I heard as I tried to call my slim, blonde-haired beauty for the sixth time last week. She left in a huff for her road trip to some kind of human resources retreat/seminar, angry after my comments about what it takes to make a man happy (owning planes and boats).
As Randi's perfectly manicured fingernail ran down the column of type in one of last week's issues of The New York Times, she just shook her head. "Why did Larry do that, Bobby?"
Randi was referring to the recent so-called Larrygate scandal in which Oracle hired a private detective to ferret out nasty secrets about who (Microsoft) was funding some "public interest groups".
Netware users get dissed and Bobby gets more than a pain in the neck . . .
As Randi's perfectly manicured fingernail ran down the column of type in one of last week's issues of The New York Times, she just shook her head. "Why did Larry do that, Bobby?"
Randi wants me to get my life more in balance. Now my idea of balance has been avoiding wipeouts while test driving new Harleys, or stopping at just two martinis. But my new love has different ideas.
Things with Randi are so great that I didn't mind getting more hate mail than tips last week. She's really a class act and can see through my shady spots and bring out the best in me.
Last week the tip gods were not playing on my side. The river was running dry. My usual sources were either on the road or had the fear of God put in them by meddling public relations types. So I had to give up my chaise by the pool to go to user group meetings and seminars, sniffing around for the dark underbelly of the technology industry.
A while back I wrote about losing my mojo after Rose left. I'm happy to say that I have found it once again. I had a complete awakening, sliding out of this funk that I have been in for months.
Last week I took off for the lights, the tables, the women: the city of sin. And of course the chance to schmooze with the who's who of the big convergence at Networld+Interop in Las Vegas.
Many readers wrote in with suggestions about how to cheer up Madison. Some said that flowers and chocolates were sure winners; others proposed outrageous things such as jewelry and raises.
Madison really took the gift I gave her the wrong way. I bought a box of Special K cereal because the doc said I should lose a few pounds to take some of the pressure off of my knee. Little did I realize that I would be an instant winner in the Cindy Crawford makeover contest.
Last week taught me two very important lessons. One: Never go so far as inviting readers to bombard me with e-mails to complain about poor connectivity service (no offense meant to those who did). I'll address this issue later in the column. Two: Never send an assistant out of the warm California weather to a cold place such as Chicago in spring.
The weather is warming up here in Silicon Valley, giving rise to one of my favorite times of the year: when the ladies here shed their winter wear in favor of sleeveless blouses and shorts and start sunning themselves by the pool in my apartment complex.
I should have known better.