It’s a tough job, but somebody’s got to do it.
That somebody is my co-worker (for the second time: the first was at the long-lost and oft-lamented True/Slant. We’re both chicks, so when it got sold to Forbes they let us go, but HEY NO HARD FEELINGS. The layoff notice addressed to “Dear Contributor” was a classy touch, I thought) Fruzsina Eördögh, and she is reporting from deep in the heart of ROFLcon for the DailyDot, along with a full third of the masthead.
I’m not. But it’s fine.
This is what conference journalism looks like from the trenches. If you’ve ever read Hunter S. Thompson I know these scenes will not frighten you, but they will shock you with just how far things have gone since HST was conference-going himself. You. Have. Been. Warned.
And here I am stuck at home. No open bar. No ROFLs. Not even a deflated Whoopie Cushion.
But it’s fine. It’s okay. I’ve still got my poetry.