I am scientist by training, inclination and temperament. However, this is a blog, not a lab. The title reflects my passion for hyperbole, so don't take me too seriously. I don't. I was a technician in a physiology lab, got my PhD in molecular genetics and neuroscience, was a postdoctoral fellow in biophysics and now am a Project Manager in a Clinical Science/Biomedical Informatics institute. I am a scientific jack-of-all-trades, and very happy because of it. I write about science that catches my eye, making the transition away from the lab bench, and the slightly odd and moist boundary where science culture meets the public. I am an Englishman by birth, an American by temperament and if I were you I wouldn't lend me money.
My posts are presented as opinion and commentary and do not represent the views of LabSpaces Productions, LLC, my employer, or my educational institution.
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Day dawns, but slowly, the sunlight thick like treacle, dripping over the horizon, reluctantly and hesitantly illuminating the carnage. It's as if Nature Herself wants to turn a blind eye to the debauched remains scattered through the San Diego streets.
Needless-to-say the SfN10BANTER tweet-up was a storming success. To those who made it Thank You for being awesome and beautiful and making me laugh all night long. To those who didn't make it, you'd better be there next year or I'm having the Society cancel your membership.
I can't thank everybody individually, and indeed I didn't even get to meet some folks. There were faces in the crowd I recognised but couldn't get to. And of course that's a good thing. I hope everyone else left wanting more too.
Particular highlights was meeting some of the SfN Official Bloggers, and here must go Magick Special Props to QScience for being the first blogger on the spot. Aechase for not being nearly as Scottish sounding as he should be. DrugMonkey for using the word fuck, in context, 200 times in the space of ten minutes. NoahWG for the awesome ear hoops and Nature gossip. Mr Gunn was as cool in the flesh as he is on line (I knew he would be because we share a surprising number of friends IRL). MoCost for saving my soul with his accent (it's been far too long since I heard the dulcet tones of West London), and of course Mo's brother for not giving me a black eye.
Coincident with the tweet-up was a fashion show. SRSLY. So, the XY tweeps, at least, enjoyed a nice view of bikini clad models too! At one point the designer came up to us and asked us if we'd go join the audience for her show. We, the geeks and nerds were making more noise, and having more fun, than the Californian fashionistas! For The Win indeed! In fact I'm going out on a limb here and declaring this "FashionFail pwnded by g33k". And I'm gonna throw in a "we 0wn the 0ther team", for good measure (that's w00t, in case I'm losing you with this 1337sp34k shiznorz).
Around 10 o'clock the assorted tweeps at SfN10Banter made our stumbly and meandery way to Stingaree for the UCSD SfNPosterface party. Me and Dr. Becca were bringing up the rear and thankfully the tweeps had held space for us in the line. Mr. Gunn grabbed Dr. Becca's legs, I grabbed her neck and we pitched her bodily over the guardrail and claimed our rightful place at the front of the line.
Inside it was fucking ramma, as we say at home, so like a good Englishman I made a beeline for the bar and got a beer in. Being over six feet tall has distinct advantages in a crowded bar and I managed to jump the line of thousands waiting desperately to be served. Finding myself now alone in a huge crowd of strangers I did what any good tweep should do. I ignored the baleful glares of young American d00des and hit the Twittersphere, as panic started to kick in (I do not "do" crowds). DrugMonkey kindly informed me I was a "Fucking idiot" and that everyone was up stairs. I wandered upstairs and the party continued...
And that, Dear Reader, is where I must draw a veil over the evening, purely because it's about the last thing I remember. I gather I got a taxi back to my hotel, but I'll be buggered if I remember it. I had a blast, and if I didn't get to say or hello, or indeed goodbye, I know you'll take no offence. We were the first SfN Tweet-up. We were glamorous, gorgeous and fun. And we'll do it again next year.
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Noah and his wife, Hysell, are awesome. I met them at Cold Spring Harbor a few years back!
"So, the XY tweeps, at least, enjoyed a nice view of bikini clad models too!"
UGHHHHHHHH. *schmacks Tiddlewink*
I don't understand why you are limiting the bikini clad enjoyment to XY tweeps. Way too hetero-normative for California Tideliar.
The heternormivity was part of the reason for schmackage (though, in fairness, "at least" does imply the existance of lesbians/bisexual XXs... it's homosexual XYs that are in his blindspot).
Also, the gender policing implicit in assuming chromosomal sex = gender.
Also, the kyriarchy.
Also, he's tideliar. If he didn't do anything to deserve it this time, it's only because we didn't catch him.
I can really feel the love. Really, deep down. Feel that love.
You try and do one bloody PC thing Just one, and they come and bite you in the ass...
*insert one gratuitious highly politically incorrect, vaguely suggestive, and wholy inappropiate comment about Tiddles and enjoyment of schmackage and being bitten in the ass*
*rebut with one deliciously gratuitous comment about how I fuckkne love that dirty shit*
Actually this reminds me of a time I was posting more at Lablit. I wrote a story and included only male pronouns and called to the carpet to it in the forums. That time was deliberate because it was a story written quickly from my perspective. But at the time I thought about the pronoun thing and chose to stay male (insert LOL).
This time I thought about not saying anything, and worried that I'd be called sexist for talking about models.
This time I thought about mentioning XX & XY who might have enjoyed the view and worried that I'd be called perverty.
This time I nearly made a XX joke about lesbians, and realised that it wouldn't work in print.
So this time I went with the easy out and you're right to call me to the carpet for it. There's far better gags and commentary that could have gone in.
Now please, bite me on the ass. Hard.
...not without dinner first. I am not a cheap date.
Quit your crying. The statement was already pervy. Don't be half-assed about it! XY/XX/X/XXY/XO/ZW/ZZ FTW