Chasing Al Gore, warping young minds, and Indonesian drinking songs
you know, I could probably just leave this at the title and call it a good day. But alas, the wine, she is with me, and I'll post a bit more.
...
So Al Gore was staying at my hotel. We all know what that means...
"The odds that Brad will be tazed this week went up... a lot."
But I didn't get tazed. Nor did I have a "Don't Taze me Bro" t-shirt... which you never think you need till you need one. (Why those things aren't in vending machines is beyond me.)
But Al was here, and I was here... and I'm me.
You see, my dad's a minor politician.
Note: That doesn't mean the same thing in Russia as it does here.
So an autographed copy of "An Inconvenient Truth" would be the perfect stocking stuffer for him. You can picture him in his Docker's slacks and festive holiday sweater, showing it to a friend/colleague.
"Yes, my son had Al Gore autograph it in Bali at the UN climate summit."
If Norman Rockwell had a son that had sold out, he'd have a hard-on right now.
But I know our event coordinator, she knew the person "handling" him while he was here... gears turned, people were moved around, and I bought 3 copies of "An Inconvenient Truth" and helped truck them around as we tried to find Al Goreher friend to get them autographed. All this was done between meeting, which meant I and the event coordinator were casually speed-walking down halls, being nice to our colleagues but *certainly* not mentioning our mission, as 3 books were enough weight (how much recycled post-consumer material goes into those things, anyway?) already.
We didn't get it done.
That should be obvious, because I TOLD you. What if my dad was there, in his Christmas sweater, trying to impress you, and you already knew the story. That's rubbish, I say. Absolute rubbish.
I have a cool note though, in bad English, saying he got away before he could sign them. *sigh* I never thought of Al Gore as nimble. Another inconvenient truth to deal with... I swear.
...
You know... *I* know it's 10pm, and *you* know it's 8am... but my body is confused, so I'm going to bed.
...
So Al Gore was staying at my hotel. We all know what that means...
"The odds that Brad will be tazed this week went up... a lot."
But I didn't get tazed. Nor did I have a "Don't Taze me Bro" t-shirt... which you never think you need till you need one. (Why those things aren't in vending machines is beyond me.)
But Al was here, and I was here... and I'm me.
You see, my dad's a minor politician.
Note: That doesn't mean the same thing in Russia as it does here.
So an autographed copy of "An Inconvenient Truth" would be the perfect stocking stuffer for him. You can picture him in his Docker's slacks and festive holiday sweater, showing it to a friend/colleague.
"Yes, my son had Al Gore autograph it in Bali at the UN climate summit."
If Norman Rockwell had a son that had sold out, he'd have a hard-on right now.
But I know our event coordinator, she knew the person "handling" him while he was here... gears turned, people were moved around, and I bought 3 copies of "An Inconvenient Truth" and helped truck them around as we tried to find Al Goreher friend to get them autographed. All this was done between meeting, which meant I and the event coordinator were casually speed-walking down halls, being nice to our colleagues but *certainly* not mentioning our mission, as 3 books were enough weight (how much recycled post-consumer material goes into those things, anyway?) already.
We didn't get it done.
That should be obvious, because I TOLD you. What if my dad was there, in his Christmas sweater, trying to impress you, and you already knew the story. That's rubbish, I say. Absolute rubbish.
I have a cool note though, in bad English, saying he got away before he could sign them. *sigh* I never thought of Al Gore as nimble. Another inconvenient truth to deal with... I swear.
...
You know... *I* know it's 10pm, and *you* know it's 8am... but my body is confused, so I'm going to bed.