random thoughts. how professional.
Sent: Tuesday, August 24, 2010 9:27 AM
To: Amy F.
Sorry about yesterday – apparently my phone is no longer working. I can’t dial out, send texts, or receive calls or messages. It’s on, appears to be fine, but one of my “bars” for signal is completely out… not sure what that means…
Other than that, I’m in a meeting and should not be e-mailing. But had to tell you there’s a cute nerdy boy here from _______. You would love him. Ha ha.
OK must go before someone sees that I am e-mailing… and writing about cute boys… yikes. How professional.
Sent: Tuesday, August 24, 2010 1:46 PM
To: Amy F.
Subject: random thoughts from me…
…inappropriately e-mailed during a meeting.
I had to go get lunch.Why me, you ask? Was it because I was am, shall we say, slightly lower in than seniority ranking here at this little get-together? Was it because I was one of four women (out of sixteen) – and that’s what women do? Gofer coffee and lunch and fax things?
I went because I know that if I didn’t, we’d never get lunch. I went because I know these men of seniority, while highly intelligent human beings, would stand around talking about anything but lunch, or would randomly ask each other questions like well, where should we go? what should we eat? and responding to said questions by either staring at everyone else as if they forgot how to speak, or I don’t care… what does everyone else want?
I went because I want to stay on mother fucking task and I know it just needs to get effing done. You know what? Sometimes I think women end up doing gofer jobs because they just want to get shit done, already, and men get all distracted and go randomly wandering off-task when asked to do the most minimal of things.
Maybe because they’ve never had to do them before. We, on the other hand, have practice.
Anyways. I was briskly striding to the sandwich shoppe, did a double-take because I thought this sweet little old woman was carrying a vibrator down the street.
It was her umbrella handle.
Well. Lunch was successfully procured and distributed.
In other news. The nerdy-cute boy is rapidly losing his appeal. He is now apparently teaching class. And speaking in math to a room full of ecologists. What he is saying is important and all to the work we’re doing but…. we have about 24-36 hours to get some goddamn fucking work done here.
Right now, class on Taken’s theorem and dippheomorphisms is NOT HELPFUL to our goals.
OMG. O. M. G.
Sent: Wednesday, August 24, 2010 10:32 AM
To: Amy F.
Subject:More random thoughts from me…
Nerdy Boy has regained appeal. For the most part. He talks with his mouth full to a table full of Smart People, so that’s kind of a bummer, but… during the conversation yesterday, he started being all Smarty Pants again, so… and then today, learned he spent a year in a math program at Cambridge after he graduated college…
So you might not be the only one that likes them nerdy. Let’s be honest. Sure, I like the DBs too – because it’s so easy to see them fucking the shit out of you. But… it’s way hotter to think of the nerdy boy fucking the shit out of you. And, in theory, the nerdy boys should be better at it, because, again in theory, the DB has never really had to work at this whole fucking thing, and they’re probably selfish, one can assume/in theory, anyway so…
Unfortunately, slight problem with all this Nerdy Boy business. Well, several actually.
One, he lives in _____. Not helpful to the whole fucking thing. Two, trying to initiate something while we’re on the same side of the country is also difficult – because we’re at this meeting. Sure, we’ve been clearly attempting to talk to each other but… going from “so where did you do your undergrad?” to “hey, wanna make out?” is a little tough when you’re being all professional.
However. Problems one and two are moot points because of problem three: the Mousey GF. That apparently came along with him…? She was at dinner last night. She’s going into medical school. She’s cute. She did not participate in conversation past that. So I decided she was a Mouse. Mainly because I don’t want him to have a GF…. yeah that’s lame but at least I can admit it.
Anyways. Blah blah blah. Whatev.
Last night went to one of the PI’s hotel rooms (not really a room, more like its own little cottage) to drink scotch after dinner. This is a super-smart scientist dude. And yet… when we were concerned about getting back to ______, he says “eh driving down _____ after drinking is no problem. I’ve done it enough. The problem is driving down there on acid.”
SO up drinking scotch and shooting the shit with people til midnight. Got to the meeting this morning, everything seems fine… realized two hours into it that my shirt is on backwards.