And now for something completely different

As I fight my urge to ignore my research, prepare to talk to a friend at a distant university who is hiring and might potentially be interesting in hiring the LesboProf, and try to avoid the loving beckoning of the Kindle-of-Work-Death, I just finished reading a hilarious little piece on sex at professional conferences in the Chronicle.

My favorite piece is where the author describes the actions of people by discipline:

Creative writers stand up, say "I'm leaving now," and then stare fixedly at you. Philosophers, a more intuitive lot, simply disappear into the mist, but you can find them in the hallway in front of the vending machine, slamming their palms against the display window because the Doritos bag got wedged halfway down and now they are out of quarters. Sociologists loiter in the parking lot. Psychologists will follow you to your room, so there's no need to say a word, although you may require a temporary restraining order by noon the next day. Ethnographers are fine with exiting while necking. Historians may require some cajoling, but the promise of a side trip to the 7-Eleven magazine stand will usually suffice.

Oh, yes, there are more disciplinary pickups mentioned in the piece, though my own discipline is sadly missing. Ah, well. Having been a very chaste conference-goer, after my first professional conference was marred by professorial bad behavior, I know little of the ways of the "unwashed," as the author calls them. But I delight in the gossip of untoward (consensual) conference behaviors, and thought this piece was a riot.

Hope you enjoy it. And don't forget to send in that registration for the next conference soon.