And the weekend is over...

I have tons to do tomorrow. I'm preparing my syllabus. I am welcoming new colleagues to my department. I'm schmoozing. Schmoozing has never been my strong point. When I schmooze, I'm weird and I know it.

You know what I have never been good at? Breaking off conversations. Take, for instance, a very nice girl I met in the bookstore tonight. She was a talker. Fine. She was a new medical student at Emory. Nice. She wanted to talk science and stuff. Sure. I will doubtlessly see her again. I gave her my card and told her about the Atlanta Skeptics, and she seemed interested in bringing a friend who had been raped by a space alien.

Oh, did I mention I met someone whose friend thinks she was raped by a space alien?

Hang on.

Now that I think about that, that's rather odd. Not the raped by a space alien part. That I wasn't blogging about it (though I find that alien rape thing in itself rather improbable).

Hm.

I'm actually a little concerned now. Why was I not writing about the space-alien rape friend earlier? That's clearly the most interesting thing that anyone said to me today. Instead, I'm talking about schmoozing, which is the type of blah topic for someone who is merely in the habit of writing every night would produce but who doesn't have much to say on this particular occasion. I think I might be losing my blogging superpowers.

Georgia Guidestones and space-alien rape in one weekend.

I have such a strange life.

HJ