Today’s gathering has many virtual layers. Imagine a large faceless corporate hotel hosting many conferences, each one more tedious and pointless than the last. Some of us attend for fame and fortune, but mostly we have to go because of our jobs. Some of us knit while we pretend to listen to the speakers; others are in such a frenzy of livetweeting that they can’t actually follow what’s being said. And over at the bar, the Weird Cousins gather, clutching their drinks…
Not so much a Weird Cousin as a Weird Brother, Doctor Pockless is the only speaker at DaLoCom, but currently they’re taking a break while the techies try to get the laptop to communicate with the projector. You’ll notice him scribbling furiously on a napkin as he sips his pint. It’s a strange drawing of a the president of Chad in just his pants. Why would he do that? Nobody knows.
Sevitz is at NeHoMoPa, where he has attended workshops on wrapping up glassware in layers of newspaper, and learned about measuring the doorway before trying to get the sofa in. The ticket buying process for this conference was fraught with hidden agency fees and archaic documentation checks. And he can’t even have a housewarming party until he has repented for ever commencing on the process in the first place. And how he repents it.
Most conferences are an excuse not to be at work (other than ones that run at the weekend with mandatory attendance by people who mostly work on a voluntary basis, she wrote bitterly). Pigwotflies has perfected the not at work conference by simply sitting in the bar and knitting, with her wine in a sippy cup.
From his comment, it seems that Lyle might be at an actual conference as well as a virtual one. And look what’s in the awesome CrapCon goody bag! A plastic dog turd! A pencil with a lead so hard it doesn’t actually write! A bound copy of the slides with some of the pages upsidedown! He’s going to need that vodka; sorry we ran out of coke. Just to annoy him, I’m sitting Happy Gordon at the same table with his own goody bag full of sunshine and postcards with happy sayings on. Better get Lyle another vodka, and a pint of juiced kittens for Gordon. That is what you asked for, isn’t it? HAPPY, Gordon. HAPPY HAPPY. Further happiness has been exhibited by Asta, who is at NonConCon, swilling champagne by the bucketload; this is not to be confused with NoConCon, where Pix is working her way through the list of 23 caffeinated cocktails, followed by the house special, which is all of them mixed together.
Over in the PestConCon hall, Graybo has accepted his award for Manly Man of the Year, for services to killing wasps. His trophy is in the shape of a cocktail glass and filled with a delicious banana, vodka and ginger mixture. His speech was soooooo long. Runner up for the Manly Man award was our Pete, who changed a tyre this afternoon and then was too hepped up on adrenaline to work for the next five or six minutes. His runner up speech was a text to me to tell me all about it.
Tomorrow I’m going to a real conference with the slightly naff hashtag #babblelive, and I won’t be able to live tweet it in a sarcastic manner, because professionalism. Hope you don’t have to work this weekend, but if you do, do it with a cocktail.
Can I have a manly parasol in that, please?
No, Lyle has nabbed them all, sorry.
Looking forward to next year’s DaLoCom, by which time I’ll be able to sit at the back nodding sagely rather than actually having to have anything to say. Oh yes. I will be the granddaddy of daschund love.
Tasty kittens are tasty!