Wednesday, October 31, 2007
I'd promised to describe Friday night's costume contest at the gathering.
A merely good costume doesn't make it. It has to be a pun, or some kind of "in joke".
There were more than a hundred people in the contest. Mensans take contests seriously, especially those that involve puns. They lined up, got up on the stage one by one, and either challenged the audience to guess, or explained the pun. Then they visited the judges' table, and bribed them. Bribes are encouraged. The whole process took a long time, but it was never boring.
The costumes I remember (not necessarily the best, and in no particular order):
1. A monk in chains with a number on his back.
2. A sheep with four large bite holes in its body.
3. A man in a t-shirt covering conical protrusions all over him.
4. A woman in a Renaissance serving girl costume, with brown furry ears and a long tail.
5. A man in black hat, side curls, tassels dangling under his shirt, wearing a Nationals team sweatshirt.
6. A group of four, in green makeup and falling-down pants, who rapped threats at the audience.
7. A man in a donkey costume with a happy dog face, with lolling tongue.
8. A cat delivering paper messages.
Take a guess as to what they represented. I'll put the answers in the comments later, so check back.
There were a lot of good ones before I realized I should take notes, so these are not necessarily the best, just the ones that made it to my notes. Some I can't figure out. I wonder what the "Leaf Blower" looked like? Don't remember. I do remember a pirate with dollar bills stuck to his ears, and when I heard what he was I thought "Hey, that's pretty good!", but now I don't remember what the pun was.
Ahah! I just remembered! He was a buccaneer!
---------------------------------
Next day - Ok, having been prodded by an impatient Queen, I have provided the answers in the comments. Don't look until you've tried guessing, though.
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Showing posts with label Hallowe'em. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Hallowe'em. Show all posts
Wednesday, October 31, 2007
Sunday, October 28, 2007
1522 End of Gathering
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.
.
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.
.
Thursday, October 25, 2007
1519 Settling In
Thursday, October 25, 2007
I'm in the hotel, after a frantic morning. I set the alarm for 7 am, planning to leave the house by 8:30, but then didn't wake up until the alarm STOPPED buzzing at 9. I made it out of the house in a record 20 minutes, made it to the airport just barely in time to get my suitcase checked onto the plane.
The Mommy Letter (informational letter you get from Mensa when you register for the gathering) said to arrange for a taxi from O'Hare to the hotel by calling a taxi from a courtesy phone. By the third try I was almost in tears - the guys who answered the phone barely spoke English, and I couldn't understand the letter of the door they wanted me to stand at and the number of the taxi that would come, and the first two hung up on me when I couldn't understand the number. The third guy was nicer, and worked with me until I got it. ("E, as in fervid." "E as in Edward?" "No, E as in fervid." "Like, A B C D E?" "No, A E E E." "Oh, D, as in dog?" "No. E as in David." "Ok, I've got it. A B C D!" "Yuh." "Uh, that's the door under construction that doesn't have a letter on it, right?" "Yuh, that one. Next one up from E.")
At the desk, they asked me if I really required room 906 (or whatever), and when I said no, they moved me to a "preferred" floor. My room is HUGE! Beautiful matched cherry furniture, a king-sized sleigh bed with five pillows, sofa, free wifi, etc.
The hotel is pretty fantastic, too. They have a 60,000 sq. ft. indoor waterpark, with slides, water cannons, whirlpools, and movies you can watch while floating in an innertube. On the other hand, a cup of tea in the cafe is $3.
FW's plane was delayed out of Newburgh. No idea when she'll get here. If she runs into the same taxi guys I did, she might flip out and go home, and I'm not kidding. I wouldn't blame her.
....FW just called my cell. She's here, her room's on the 3rd floor. (I'm on the 10th.) We're going to hunt down some food in about a half hour. (She's got big ideas about famous Chicago restaurants. We are NOT in the city - we're out in the middle of nowhere. I didn't see so much as a Denny's driving in. It's gonna be the hotel food or nothing.)
....Later - checked with the desk. The nearest restaurant is a 10 minute drive away. Nothing within walking distance. Ate in the hotel restaurant. Ten buffalo wings with celery, tea, key lime pie - $23 with tax and tip.
Located the Mensa gathering registration desk. All set.
.
I'm in the hotel, after a frantic morning. I set the alarm for 7 am, planning to leave the house by 8:30, but then didn't wake up until the alarm STOPPED buzzing at 9. I made it out of the house in a record 20 minutes, made it to the airport just barely in time to get my suitcase checked onto the plane.
The Mommy Letter (informational letter you get from Mensa when you register for the gathering) said to arrange for a taxi from O'Hare to the hotel by calling a taxi from a courtesy phone. By the third try I was almost in tears - the guys who answered the phone barely spoke English, and I couldn't understand the letter of the door they wanted me to stand at and the number of the taxi that would come, and the first two hung up on me when I couldn't understand the number. The third guy was nicer, and worked with me until I got it. ("E, as in fervid." "E as in Edward?" "No, E as in fervid." "Like, A B C D E?" "No, A E E E." "Oh, D, as in dog?" "No. E as in David." "Ok, I've got it. A B C D!" "Yuh." "Uh, that's the door under construction that doesn't have a letter on it, right?" "Yuh, that one. Next one up from E.")
At the desk, they asked me if I really required room 906 (or whatever), and when I said no, they moved me to a "preferred" floor. My room is HUGE! Beautiful matched cherry furniture, a king-sized sleigh bed with five pillows, sofa, free wifi, etc.
The hotel is pretty fantastic, too. They have a 60,000 sq. ft. indoor waterpark, with slides, water cannons, whirlpools, and movies you can watch while floating in an innertube. On the other hand, a cup of tea in the cafe is $3.
FW's plane was delayed out of Newburgh. No idea when she'll get here. If she runs into the same taxi guys I did, she might flip out and go home, and I'm not kidding. I wouldn't blame her.
....FW just called my cell. She's here, her room's on the 3rd floor. (I'm on the 10th.) We're going to hunt down some food in about a half hour. (She's got big ideas about famous Chicago restaurants. We are NOT in the city - we're out in the middle of nowhere. I didn't see so much as a Denny's driving in. It's gonna be the hotel food or nothing.)
....Later - checked with the desk. The nearest restaurant is a 10 minute drive away. Nothing within walking distance. Ate in the hotel restaurant. Ten buffalo wings with celery, tea, key lime pie - $23 with tax and tip.
Located the Mensa gathering registration desk. All set.
.
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