WIPO and World Cup

Saxon pointed out at church that I went to London last week to do an interview, and yet in the blog post I managed to talk about everything but the interview. Only that's because it's all part of a higher plan, you see.

The interview was great. CD was very nice, very smart, very willing to do all the talking. This was helpful later as I was transcribing the interview, because I only had to hear myself talk a few times. Every time I did hear myself, I cringed and contemplated diving under my desk and just staying there if I can't learn to talk like a normal human being and just Spit It Out already. I suppose that will be helpful for next time. (Note to self: Write down and memorize all questions so that you do not revert to stammering heap of filler sounds. Also try not to sound like a helium addict.)

He told lots of great stories--some about WIPO meetings in Geneva, which sound like something out of a movie, where big broadcasting and pharmaceutical companies tell blatant lies to small developing nations, and the flyers he and the other reps made which pointed this out all ended up in the bathroom trashcans. It's like Mr. Smith goes to the UN.

I just finished transcribing the interview, which took at least 6 hours of typing for one hour of tape. When I did the word count at the end I realized why it took so stinking long--10,586 words. My THESIS only has to be 15,000, but how many of those words have I written? None. I have written none of those words, because I am busy writing 10,586 of other people's words. That's 19 pages, single-spaced. Also I'm hoping to do at least 8 more of these things.

Only I am now a CD fan for life, because not only did he make time for me and give me loads of material, but he also recommended someone else for me to speak with, and is going to do an email introduction for me to the people who I really need to talk to but who haven't answered my emails. So yes. I've always thought Canadians are nicer than Americans, and this pretty much proves it.

In other news, I saw a World Cup game, finally. It was at a bbq with amazing food, and here is what happened.

• No one ever scored.
• I ate a cheeseburger.
• David Beckham hurt his foot and had to go sit out.
• I ate three chicken legs.
• David Beckham cried.
• I ate some salad with feta.
• Wayne Rooney stomped on a Portugese player's man-parts, possibly accidentally-on-purpose. Instead of apologizing, he pushed another Portugese player.
  
• I ate chocolate cake.
• Rooney got a red card.
• I ate a fabulous meringue dessert with cream and berries.
• Peter Crouch came in. He looked the way a stick insect or praying mantis might look if it suddenly turned human and started playing football.
• I ate rice crispy treats made with Mars bars.
• England lost.
• I ate some banana bread.