Business Trip, Final Day: Cheers & Jeers
The conference officially ended yesterday, but since it was being held in The Place That Time and Wireless Internet Forgot, I am posting this today from the safety of my cubicle, after traveling 8 hours through 3 airports in an attempt to transport my ass a measly 500 miles back home. Sigh.
- Watching people fall asleep. Never gets old. Especially watching the guy who looked like the lolrus‘s little brother (the “lilrus”?) nod off repeatedly for about two hours straight.
- Dicsovering that – no matter how camouflaged and covered with bad-ass patches – jumpsuits make grown men look like huge toddlers.
- The painting on the wall of a bald eagle in front of an American flag, wearing an American flag around its neck because THIS IS THE MOST AMERICAN PIECE OF ART ON THE PLANET and holy shit, does the artist ever want you to know it.
- Let’s explore this idea of the most American piece of art on the planet, shall we? I submit that it would be George Washington, wearing a suit made out of apple pie and baseball, shooting a flaming bald eagle with a beak-ful of Freedom Fries out of a cannon through the window of a Starbucks. All in front of an American flag, natch.
- The guy with the Fu Manchu mustache, because really. The world needs more guys with Fu Manchu mustaches.
- The woman who occasionally coughs SO LOUD that I suspect she is trying to give herself an instant hemorrhoid.
- The horseshit $55 fee I had to pay for “provided food,” which amounted to: One (1) cat asshole muffin, two (2) room temperature chicken wings, three (3) pieces of sweaty pineapple (I don’t want to talk about it), four (4) cups of coffee that managed to be weak yet make me supremely jittery, so that when Instant Hemorrhoid up there coughed, I nearly shat myself, one (1) piece of honeydew melon that was so hard I used it to level out a wobbly table.
- Crudites that were provided as an “afternoon snack.” I can’t think of anything else that satisfies the 3pm munchies better than some raw cauliflower that will give you crippling gas 45 minutes later.
- In addition to raw fucking vegetables, our afternoon snack included slices of what looks like birthday cake, with no large mother-cake in sight. I am beginning to think that we are eating leftovers from a little girl’s 9th birthday party at the roller rink.
- The temperature in the room, which hovered right around absolute zero.
But at least I was never in any danger of being clubbed for my pelt.
Entry filed under: Gobble-gobble.