I do try to live a virtuous life, free from the influence of intoxicating substances and mad scientists. How is it then, dear readers, that I find myself at yet another work conference? Much less at one that features the work of post-docs, or as like to call them, The Young People. During the day, The Young People presented their innovative research and stood smiling beside posters covered with diagrams of genetic pathways. At night, The Young People drained the hotel-provided cash bar and crowded the dance floor with their exuberant move-busting. As Detective Roger Murtaugh would say, I'm gettin' too old for this shit.
And that's not to mention the Talent Show, where even us old fogies got involved in poking ribald fun at our science and at each other. Skits in the show featured everything from an homage to Survivor to the full Thriller dance. For my part, I did a passable Kanye West impression ... but perhaps the less said there, the better. The funniest sketch, however, was one on how to deal with colleagues going through menopause, complete with haikus.
change the thermostat?
"go ahead, if you are cold"
pull back bloody stump
I was vaguely horrified, however, when I realized that someone's 8 year-old daughter in the audience. Not only was she exposed to off-color comedy and cursing (not from the menopausal ladies, but still), she is going to have a completely skewed view of appropriate behavior at work. She's going to burst in on her first day wearing a green wig, doing the chicken dance and asking "hey, how do you figure out if your girlfriend is ticklish?!?" You know - just like her father.