Alcohol and Hearing Impairment

At a uber-nerdfest early last week in San Francisco…  i tried to be good.  i really tried.  Healthy food, avoidance of cookies, and an hour a day in the hotel gym, doing my physical therapy and getting some exercise.  This was going just fine until somewhere around 9pm on Tuesday evening*.

Simultaneous text message, voice mail and e-mail from colleagues at the same meeting:

text:  Bottle of scotch and Stephen Hawking.  Hotel Atrium.

voicemail:  daisyfae – get yer ass to the atrium.  we’re introverts.  we need someone lively down here…

e-mail:  come on down.  we need you.  too much scotch for us rookies.

The voicemailer called back a few minutes later – and begged me in just the right tone.  i whined back – “but i’m in my workout gear.  do i have to get dressed?”.  

“We’re geeks.  No one will even notice…”

And so it happened.  At 9 pm, i arrived for a ‘quick one’.  And so it also happened that i found myself leaving the lobby at 3 am.  After perhaps more than one.  Being staunchly devoted to my craft, i had to be up and at the “Speakers Breakfast” at 7 am.  Which meant showing up, with no shower, and looking a little bit crunchy around the edges.  But i did it…

Retreating back to my room for a powersnooze at 8 am, i was determined to be ready for the afternoon session.  Which i was co-chairing…

Turns out?  i may have discovered an after effect of alcohol that requires further study.  From my notes that afternoon:

Did he say “Pedophiles”?  Oh.  “Pentaflops…”  As in “It can be expected that we’ll see multiple pedophiles in 2009…”

If i didn’t know better, i could have sworn he just said “condom dots”.  As in “condom dot sensitization as measured through pump probe spectroscopy”.  Must be the Indian accent?  He said “quantum dots”…

“Does size matter – at the nanometer scale?” – oh, honey, if we’re talkin’ nanometers, believe me  – it’s WELL BELOW the point that matters… the word for the day is “sub-threshold”, sugarbuns…

Hypothesis:  Being mildly hung over during a technical meeting creates catastrophic impairment on both human hearing, and mental focus.

stephen hawking is a chumpass bitch...

stephen hawking is a chumpass bitch...

* i did 24 hours or so of “non-debauchery”.  that’s a start…

Beer Bunghole…

Playing “Beer Bingo” with friends at the local pub has become more than a quest – it’s therapeutic, and a very necessary coping mechanism to get me through the week.  Closing in on our goal of drinking our way through the 55 beers, we’re now staring down some  of the more exotic ales and tinctures of yeast.

Even after battling delayed flights and arriving two hours later than expected, i raced to the pub to pound a few pints press ever onward toward my goal.  Going through my beer bingo card mostly alphabetically systematically, i was staring down a gnarly “Old Peculiar”.  Blechhh… tried it once before, and it tastes like butt.  Decided to press onwards and just get the damn thing out of the way.

Imagine my delight when our server informed me that they had replaced it with something else… i’m sure he told me about the replacement, but i was so happy to be spared a pint of Armpit Ale that i ordered up… and gloated to my pals that the Peculiar Plague had passed by my door!

Turns out?  Hen’s Tooth Conditioned Ale – which must ferment on the fly – tastes like sweat socks, marinated under the ballsack of a Devonshire ploughman.   

The humor works on so many levels...

The humor works on so many levels...