Big gay news
Good gayness.
Bad gayness.
Stolen from cavalorn - funny gayness (mostly only funny if you've seen the atheist bus campaign going around.
And we watched Swordfish tonight, which was also lame.
Although the timetabling was pretty lame. Bit of a funny one with Teh Australian there - he seemed to enjoy it, and got on swimmingly with everyone (one notable exception excepted). His constant distraction meant I got to spend some excellent time with excellent friends. And there was excellent accordion playing, too - who knew my friends were so talented? Anyhoo.
Lessons for next year's committee include a) constructing a timetable; b) communicating said timetable to the webmaster/publications person; c) ensuring webmaster and publications persons disseminate knowledge of timetable to delegates and writers through their respective media and finally, but most crucially, d) ensuring that, once the timetable has been written & promulgated, the events over the weekend occur at the time the schedule states. Not rocket science but, as mytholder has already lamented, becoming an increasingly arcane skill 'round the banks.
Before we got to the con, of course, we spent a very weathered week touring the Auld Country. Originally, this was supposed to be a leisurely jaunt around the coastline from West Cork clockwise to Wicklow, dipping into the middle to see Newgrange and Tara. Due to snow (Australians don't know how to drive in snow - apparently, it's not that common there (how's that heatwave working out for you guys, btw?), this didn't really happen). Having seen snow on the telly, he kept demanding snow chains for the tyres. Snow chains! Hah! I tried telling him he was lucky he wasn't getting sent over the Cahas on a donkey, the way we used to back in the day when we sold hay to Peig through the hills and carried it barefoot through the fields, but he'd seen my parents expansive range of telly channels and wasn't buying it. Anyway, with the crawling along and the rediscovery of previously-believed-dead relatives and Sinn Feiners, we were lucky to escape Teh Australian's relatives all across Kerry and get to Galway to wake up poor stabarinde and family at half five in the a.m. to let us in. Then, after having gotten up at around two p.m., we had a quick coffee in Java's and a browse in Charlie Byrne's, went home, made dinner, ooh'ed and aah'ed over Fionn's smileyness (he's like a stabarinde mini-me!) and Barack's optimism, went to bed and next day drove to Connemara, against the advice of fluffworld.
I stand by my decision; it's as beautiful around there as I remember it being from when I was a child, although I do have a yen for the ascetic in a landscape. From the bogs and islands of Connemara, we got into Dublin at some ludicrous time in the morning and left it not enough hours later that same morning, for an accidental jaunt around Kildare while looking for Meath. (It happens, if you take the wrong motorway). Anyway, we finally made it to Newgrange, and on to Tara as we lost the light; and from then, we drove straight down to Cork, stopping briefly for our last solid meal pre-con to climb around the Rock of Cashel in drunken student fashion. Then we got to Cork, discovered that rebranded actually does have a real girlfriend!! and that there was no-one in the pub. Then it was the con, wooo!, and like that the con was over, we were back in Dublin having a lovely curry and a chat with pinkymonster, and then we were in Edinburgh, exhausted, still hungover, and wondering where the hell all that time went.
I had to miss Mr M & Ms C's wedding day in NZ to be at the con this year; congrats, guys, and looking forward to seeing all the photos.
That was much longer than I'd anticipated, considering I have the lurgy and am knackered. Ah well. At least I'm over the post-con-post.
Bad gayness.
Stolen from cavalorn - funny gayness (mostly only funny if you've seen the atheist bus campaign going around.
And we watched Swordfish tonight, which was also lame.
Although the timetabling was pretty lame. Bit of a funny one with Teh Australian there - he seemed to enjoy it, and got on swimmingly with everyone (one notable exception excepted). His constant distraction meant I got to spend some excellent time with excellent friends. And there was excellent accordion playing, too - who knew my friends were so talented? Anyhoo.
Lessons for next year's committee include a) constructing a timetable; b) communicating said timetable to the webmaster/publications person; c) ensuring webmaster and publications persons disseminate knowledge of timetable to delegates and writers through their respective media and finally, but most crucially, d) ensuring that, once the timetable has been written & promulgated, the events over the weekend occur at the time the schedule states. Not rocket science but, as mytholder has already lamented, becoming an increasingly arcane skill 'round the banks.
Before we got to the con, of course, we spent a very weathered week touring the Auld Country. Originally, this was supposed to be a leisurely jaunt around the coastline from West Cork clockwise to Wicklow, dipping into the middle to see Newgrange and Tara. Due to snow (Australians don't know how to drive in snow - apparently, it's not that common there (how's that heatwave working out for you guys, btw?), this didn't really happen). Having seen snow on the telly, he kept demanding snow chains for the tyres. Snow chains! Hah! I tried telling him he was lucky he wasn't getting sent over the Cahas on a donkey, the way we used to back in the day when we sold hay to Peig through the hills and carried it barefoot through the fields, but he'd seen my parents expansive range of telly channels and wasn't buying it. Anyway, with the crawling along and the rediscovery of previously-believed-dead relatives and Sinn Feiners, we were lucky to escape Teh Australian's relatives all across Kerry and get to Galway to wake up poor stabarinde and family at half five in the a.m. to let us in. Then, after having gotten up at around two p.m., we had a quick coffee in Java's and a browse in Charlie Byrne's, went home, made dinner, ooh'ed and aah'ed over Fionn's smileyness (he's like a stabarinde mini-me!) and Barack's optimism, went to bed and next day drove to Connemara, against the advice of fluffworld.
I stand by my decision; it's as beautiful around there as I remember it being from when I was a child, although I do have a yen for the ascetic in a landscape. From the bogs and islands of Connemara, we got into Dublin at some ludicrous time in the morning and left it not enough hours later that same morning, for an accidental jaunt around Kildare while looking for Meath. (It happens, if you take the wrong motorway). Anyway, we finally made it to Newgrange, and on to Tara as we lost the light; and from then, we drove straight down to Cork, stopping briefly for our last solid meal pre-con to climb around the Rock of Cashel in drunken student fashion. Then we got to Cork, discovered that rebranded actually does have a real girlfriend!! and that there was no-one in the pub. Then it was the con, wooo!, and like that the con was over, we were back in Dublin having a lovely curry and a chat with pinkymonster, and then we were in Edinburgh, exhausted, still hungover, and wondering where the hell all that time went.
I had to miss Mr M & Ms C's wedding day in NZ to be at the con this year; congrats, guys, and looking forward to seeing all the photos.
That was much longer than I'd anticipated, considering I have the lurgy and am knackered. Ah well. At least I'm over the post-con-post.