My Robot Is Pregnant theme song!

Was talking to a guy at a bbq last weekend, one of those summer in the city affairs with people bringing their best meats to grill and tons of micro brew beer but no one getting crazy. It was a restrained crowd of well heeled folks who wanted to talk to each other.

The back yard was no bigger than seven beach blankets laid out and we were back to back, butt to butt talking in small circles. City fire code requires fences to be no higher than six feet tall so I could look into the neighbors yards. We were the only ones out on this block.

San Francisco is a city of apartment dwellers and backyards provide a view of un-self conscious living with curtainless windows revealing posters on bedroom walls and back porches stacked with bicycles and grills and clothes draped over banisters.

I was eating steak skewers with a ten minute marinade of garlic. This guy I was talking to was eating a chicken skewer. Chirag was his name. He was a designer interested in importing and exporting through his contacts in India.

“There’s a lot of opportunity with all that cheap labor,” he said.

“What do people here really need?” I asked.

“I need a hug. How about we import hugs?” Chirag, my friend, said.

“That could work! Have a guy stationed at your door, when you get home from a tough day he gives you a hug and then you go inside and start dinner. He stays in the hallway.” I was sensing an opportunity.

“Busy moms can have someone hug their kids goodbye in the morning so they can send off some emails and get dressed.”

I was thinking to myself….”Chirag might make me rich.”

“A time saver with tons of health benefits.” He had a natural way with a sales pitch. This was a foolproof plan. I needed to start going to more of these types of BBQ’s. No one kicked over the grill, there wasn’t any gun play, but the world was about to change for the better.