Sunday, October 28, 2007
Well, yesterday was my 63rd birthday. I've been telling people to ignore it for the past three years because I want to be able to truthfully say, when asked my age, "I was 60 on my last birthday." People ignore my wishes and make birthday noises at me anyway. But I was watching a past episode of Pushing Daisies online this evening, and heard the voiceover describe someone as "44 years 18 months xx days yy hours" old, and I realized I could describe myself as 60 years and 36 months old - and everyone knows that past infancy it's silly to include the months. I've found my solution.
I made it downstairs in time for breakfast this morning, which included quiche, bacon, sausage, all kinds of melon and other fruits, five juices, boiled eggs, bagels, english muffins, sweet muffins, donuts, oatmeal, raw veggies, and the usual caffeines.
I was accosted across the buffet table by, um, The Sex God. He's gorgeous, piercing blue eyes, amazing body, long wavy hair, silky beard, wonderful smooth voice, and (unusual for this bunch) makes a lot of sense when he speaks. I heard someone say "Silk!" and I looked up and it was him. I about fell over. Every healthy female who'd ever attended one of his presentations is hopelessly in love with him. (Too bad I'm aware he believes in "open relationships". That's a deal breaker.) Until you hear him speak, he looks like just another sexy biker dude, what with all the leather and chains and high boots.
He wanted to compliment me on my style, my smile, the way I move, and the dress I'd been wearing the night before. I was flabbergasted, especially since I'd run down to breakfast with no makeup on - after all, who's gonna see me that matters, right? I blushed, laughed, and smiled, and he said "That's it! That's the smile!"
He invited me to join the party sub-group, "Hell's Ms", that he could tell that I was a partier (partyer?). I said no, I'm not a partier at all. He said that depends on how you define party. A party can be two people and a bottle of wine, or fifty people and conversation, and that the main difference between Hell's Ms and other Mensa party groups is that Hell's Ms remember the next morning what happened the night before. I said, oh, ok, that does sound like my kind of party. Then I smiled and walked away.
Well, I was very flattered. I think. I'm not sure. What's with that he "can tell I'm a partier" bit? Like, you wish, Buster! Well, maybe, IF my current romantic interest doesn't work out long term, maybe someday I'll look into Hell's Ms. I understand that they do a lot of volunteer work within Mensa, I might pick up some social skills, and the logo t-shirts are a status symbol. Maybe I'll have to go read their newsletter.
My head is a bit swelled today. Over the past three days, three other men told me I was beautiful, in a quite serious and personal manner, when I got up to leave after we'd been talking a while. I know I'm not beautiful, but it's nice to be told I'm appreciated however they go about expressing it. (Keep in mind these guys are mostly sex-starved geeks. Maybe they just appreciate a woman who flirts with them a little. (I've been told I flirt unconsciously all the time, with everyone. I don't agree. I guess that's the unconscious part. (Should that be subconscious?)))
Which reminds me - we had some folks set up at a table outside the big hospitality room interviewing candidates for Beauty and the Geek, and some past beauties and geeks in a conference room answering questions. (Giggle. After my flattering weekend, I wasn't sure which side I should apply for.)
Programs I attended today: free hospitality breakfast; Science vs Religion - The search for truth; Beauty and the Geek Q&A; Waltzing Australia; an hour by myself in the whirlpool, with a book. (What book, you ask? I'm a Mensan. It was a dictionary - Bryerson's Dictionary of Troublesome Words.)
Programs I did not attend: Non-denominational Worship Service; Presentation of Awards; Swing Dance Lesson; Exertion (talk on strange sports, stunts, and physical activities); Trust Me, I'm a Lawyer (I wanted to go to this, but it overlapped the science vs religion program, which was very good); Stitch & Bitch; Settlers of Catan Tournament; Proctor Training (how to certify to administer the Mensa IQ test); Everything's Digital - Amazing opportunities and some problems; the after-party, known as "The Survivor's Party".
It was all over by 3 pm. The word was passed that all uneaten food in the hospitality rooms would be discarded, so come and get it now. I loaded a plate with meats and cheeses and melon and three bean salad to have for dinner, and scarfed up all the cans of iced tea I could find. Picnic in my room.
Bedtime. Hard traveling tomorrow. Luggage heavier with books (and handout trash that I'll likely throw away as soon as I get home, but right now seems so very important to LIFE!) I haven't the faintest idea how one gets from here to the airport, whether taxis will even come here to take me. I'll figure it out, I guess.
.
3 comments:
That reminds me of the time I dropped my 2nd semester organic chemistry class because I was doing very poorly. The professor, who was very nice to look at, said to me, "I can tell you're one of those party girls." And then started waxing nostalgic about his keg parties. I just remember blushingly explaining that I was not in fact a "party girl", I was just really bad at chemistry!
Ah...I won't wish you a happy birthday, although I may be thinking of it. A girlfriend of mine hasn't celebrated a birthday since she turned 50, but she celebrates anniversaries. At last count, she'd just had her third anniversary of turning 50, and she doesn't look a day over.
Sounds like a fun conference - what was your Waltzing Australia conference about?
Waltzing Australia - a slide show with copious commentary, by a woman who had taken a rough tour across the northern part of Australia and down the west edge, to the southern coast. She's a bit of a birder, so many of the photos were of birds. And broken-down tour vehicles.
Post a Comment