So we had the reception for Fulbright students tonight at the US ambassador's residence. The residence is an enormous Bauhaus building tucked away in a very unassuming part of Vienna (it is just funny because all the most expensive parts of the city just feel like little villages).
On the whole I would say it was a lot fun, once we got past the ridiculous security we got to enjoy the free booze and horderves. I really like the other Fulbright students so it was nice to get to chat.
The ambassador, however, looked less than thrilled to be there. What was great was when she was telling us how important the program was to her and yet couldn't seem to even half-heartedly read her speech without stumbling over her own words.
Anyway, at 7:30 she disappeared without excusing herself and never returned. All of the Fulbright students were supposed to get a picture with her. Obviously with her gone we couldn't do that and I was hurt. So to keep me from tears Scott played the role of the ambassador and I played, well, me.
6 comments:
you shaved.
D'awwww. Your enthusiasm is so great, I rather want to photoshop that very picture of you and make a series entitled "Ian Meeting Famous People Throughout History". That is, if I knew the mysterious ways of the Photoshop.
On another note, I think this ambassador sort was just too blinded by your brilliance, and just barely escaped with her life. That, or she got away with the microfilm; you failed the mission Ian. MI:6 is VERY dissappointed in you.
(and yes, yes I will beat "Ian is a cold war SPY" into the ground until it is good, dead, and found by archaeologists hundreds of years from now, thank you VERY much!)
For some reason, probably because I am a terrible person, I see you photoshoping me into meeting great mass murders. Ian being thrilled to meet a grumpy Stalin, an embalmed Lenin, a surpirsingly sunny dispositioned Pol Pot, and of course Hitler in in ditch covered with petrol on fire.
There was actually a secret battle between me and the embassador after I exposed her as a Zommunist agent. I killed her, but she was dead on the outside already. But the point isn't that we had a rapid action fight scene outside of the residence involving guard dogs, snow mobiles, and lazers. The point is that she didn't exscuse herself before our life and death struggle. And that is very rude.
Also, I like our long standing spy jokes, but I like the idea of you carefully digging up long burried jokes that that nobody got in their own day and trying to make sense of them for a living even more.
*takes some journalists on a tour of the archaelogical joke site* Yes, well, as you can see, *motions towards square in the ground* we recently uncovered a series of short puns. We think they were the foundation of a Knock Knock joke, and if you come over here, *leads group and points to the wall of the square* you can see we're just uncovering the wish bone of a Chicken Joke, which really tells us a lot about the dietary humor of people that once laughed here...
Oh, and...er...you totally called the photoshopping you in with Stalin. That was my first choice, actually. I thought I'd save Hitler for like, a rainy day.
*shakes fist at Ian* CURSE YOU FOR KNOWING ME SO WELL!!
Ohhh. I want to see those picture now. Too bad there isn't a photoshop gifted NYU film student that could make that dream a reality. Sigh.
Also, with the escavating jokes I basically see you finding a series of small walls and trying to convince people that you have found the legendary bar where all of the "an X, a Y, and a Z walked into bar" jokes took place. Don't let that pass you by it could be your greatest contribution to the field!
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