I’ve been quiet for a few days.
Unfortunately, that was less because I was busy being social, and more because I was busy fighting off whatever the hell it was John gave me. Turns out it wasn’t broccoli after all, but some incredibly nasty stomach bug that I wouldn’t wish on my worst enemy. If I find the person who passed it to John, I’m gonna flush their head once for every time I had to throw up, and then a few times more for good measure.
You made me miss the YML party.
‘Nough said.
So I spent Thursday shopping with Sly and spending money on clothes for a party I wasn’t destined to go to, and Thursday night curled up against a toilet bowl. Friday was better, in that I was no longer heaving up air, and the fever broke around 2 in the afternoon... sadly not early enough for me to make it back to the Exhibit Hall to check out the stuff I wanted to check out: I’m sorry Art Rage. I had high hopes.
Last night was Lesa and Shawn’s anniversary dinner, which I’d forgotten about thanks to all the quality toilet time, (probably a good thing, since it was supposed to be a surprise), in a VERY crowded bar somewhere on Sacramento. It’s interesting the things your stomach does after a bout of ...whatever. Much like having a baby armadillo inside you, alternating uncurling and sniffing about curiously, then ducking back into a tight protective ball at the merest mention of scary food. Sadly, I barely managed two bites (if that) of my chicken sandwich, which looked awesome and smelled incredible, but made my armadillo stomach sad.
Today was even better, which was good, because we met with the Scobles (Robert and Maryam) for lunch, and they took us to the Cheesecake Factory. It’s at this point that my stomach uncurled and went FOOD! Robert, for those who are interested, reminded me very much of Phillip Seymour Hoffman, only slightly more put together. Maryam was just adorable, in the kind of way that makes you want to be her best friend. She asked about the wedding, and I did my best “Trying not to look like a deer in the headlights” impression. I’m pretty sure I failed miserably.
See the thing is, while I’m looking forward to getting married, and I can’t wait to be married to John, there’s a big part of me that keeps saying “Eloping is always an option.” Of course, this is the part of me that convinces me every night that of course, the dishes really can wait one MORE day before you put them in the dishwasher. It’s not that I’m lazy, I’m just a procrastinator, and this is such a HUGE thing that I’ve already kicked into procrastination mode. Luckily I have a mother. Mothers are very good at getting excited for you and making you do things that you would otherwise put off till the very last minute. I wish she’d do that about the weight thing, but if I keep tossing my cookies that won’t be an issue.
(No, I’m not bulimic. I HATE throwing up. Don’t be stupid.)
After the Cheesecake Factory (and can I just say: whoever their interior decorator was had both a perverse sense of humor and a fucking field day), we went to the 39th floor of the Marriot (why 39? Why didn’t you just make it an even 40?), and had a spectacular view of San Francisco and a glorious sunset.
I also learned a few things:
1.) Geeks need wives. Preferably, wives that are solidly grounded in reality so they can wander off into geek world and still have a tether back to normal.
2.) When you put more than two geeks in the same room together, they react like feedback loop: one goes geek, the other goes geekier, the third gets geekier still, until it’s just one major screeching blast of geekdom that sends anyone not tuned to their frequency scurrying for earplugs.
3.) John and Robert, side by side, could be brothers. (And I’m sure one of them might kill me for that statement.)
After the sun set, we wandered back to the hotel and watched the last few episodes of “The IT Crowd” which was hilarious, then met up with Shawn, Lesa, Sly, Bill, Steve, Aaron, and Kelley for drinks and a late dinner at a very pretentious bar (pretentious in this case being defined as: you’re a bar, you don’t need a menu that requires a translator, for pity’s sake. Really, people don’t require unpronounceable food when they’re getting drunk, unless it’s for the sober people’s entertainment value.)
Then back to the hotel for the night.
There’s a few things I want to say about my first Macworld experience, but I think I’m going to save the wrap up till I get home and have had time to digest it.
Without my stomach going armadillo on me again.