Friday, July 31, 2009
Monday, July 27, 2009
Giving women drivers a bad name
Okay, Lady at the petrol station. You had obviously already filled up your car. You saw pull up and wait patiently behind you. Your friend pointed out that I was waiting. You just kept chatting away. Your friend looked uncomfortable and she left. Then you have a long conversation with your child in the back of the car. Then you pay. You didn't pay already. 10 minutes of my life I will never get back, you inconsiderate harpy.
On my way out of the gym, a woman talking on her phone and looking into her visor mirror nearly rear-ends me.
Come on, women. Let's get it together or the jokes will never stop.
Saturday, July 25, 2009
fucking virgin broadband
I promised myself I would not be a bitchy blogger, the kind that only complains and uses their blog as an excuse to whine about everything. And here I am, post #3, and whinging away.
Do not under any circumstances use Virgin Broadband as your internet provider. They are terrible. And they are evil and lazy and support the beheading of puppies. VB doesn't work and it is eroding my marriage. We are both sick of arguing over whose turn it is to hit the reset button. I hit it this time...the things I do for love.
Tuesday, July 21, 2009
wednesday, july 15, 2009
So tired of airports
Do you watch the show "Criminal Minds"? The goofy-gangly-slightly-attractive-because-you-could-snap-his-neck-with-a-pout guy, you know who I mean, a guy that looked JUST like him sat next to me on the plane.
But the guy was 24 (I carded him. Seriously- A guy basically called me a cougar in Indianapolis so now I am a *liar* and very careful.) He ranted on, (cocaine binge I suspect. strongly suspect) about liberal politics, our awesome president and all that I hold dear. He did not get the hint when I put in my earplugs and jammed The Who as loud as a human can. He kept going like a coke-fueled Energizer bunny. So, I agreed. And argued. And accepted drinks (I AM ONLY HUMAN) from a 24 year-old extra from the show First Blood. Apparently, Anna Paquin is super hot and has a nude (not really) scene coming up. So stay tuned. And, apparently, I smell like vanilla. Which is odd because I flew into Denver from an undisclosed Midwestern location that stinks of diesel fuel and abandoned dreams. (poetic license). No, really, I lived in a Bruce Springsteen song for 17 years. Which is why I moved to a Kris Kristofferson song coupled Rolling Stones longing with some musical theater thrown in. After that tired of me, I moved to an Eagles song with some ironic Elvis Costello. Then some operatic wanderlust and Rolling Stones and Carpenters took over. Which is where I am today. Except for Baba O'Reilly and Memory Motel.
top ten reasons to swim overseas rather than fly
10. The other 423 people on the plane
9. Blood clots
8. That flight attendant that gives you the stink eye for not paying "close" attention to the safety demonstration. Stop glaring at me. I am busy looking at duty-free liquor deals.
7. Speaking of liquor, when did airplane bottles go from "cute" to just plain tiny? Come on, now people, how am I supposed to pass out during the sequel to "Sweet Home Alabama" with only 1.5 oz?
6. Regarding in-flight movies, see #7.
5. No one flies for the airline food, so I'll let this one go.
4. Kids. Yep, they're cute. Just ask that lady who puts them in flowerpots and takes their photos. They are not cute screaming bloody murder and kicking the shit out of my seatback. On the flight over, I heard the woman behind me say by way of apology to the man next to her "It just kills his ears when we fly." Hmm. Mother of the year are we? Go to the pediatrician, get drops, or drive to fucking Disneyland instead of taking a 19 hour plane ride.
3. Seating arrangement. It is not just luck that I get to sit by fat people (yep, fatties, now is the cue to start crying and complaining. Or you could be proactive and try to work out enough to fit more than 30% of your huge ass in your own seat) So I am perched on one lovely buttock, sandwiched in tightly, and of course, one of you is a douchebag reading Conan The Barbarian. And you missed the signal when I out on my eye mask and put in my ear plugs that I have no interest in you whatsoever. So shut up and read your douche-y book.
2. 19 hours is a long time to do anything...eat chocolate mud cake, drink whiskey, have mind-blowing sex, watch Twin Peaks...19 hours is too long.
1. Flight Socks
9. Blood clots
8. That flight attendant that gives you the stink eye for not paying "close" attention to the safety demonstration. Stop glaring at me. I am busy looking at duty-free liquor deals.
7. Speaking of liquor, when did airplane bottles go from "cute" to just plain tiny? Come on, now people, how am I supposed to pass out during the sequel to "Sweet Home Alabama" with only 1.5 oz?
6. Regarding in-flight movies, see #7.
5. No one flies for the airline food, so I'll let this one go.
4. Kids. Yep, they're cute. Just ask that lady who puts them in flowerpots and takes their photos. They are not cute screaming bloody murder and kicking the shit out of my seatback. On the flight over, I heard the woman behind me say by way of apology to the man next to her "It just kills his ears when we fly." Hmm. Mother of the year are we? Go to the pediatrician, get drops, or drive to fucking Disneyland instead of taking a 19 hour plane ride.
3. Seating arrangement. It is not just luck that I get to sit by fat people (yep, fatties, now is the cue to start crying and complaining. Or you could be proactive and try to work out enough to fit more than 30% of your huge ass in your own seat) So I am perched on one lovely buttock, sandwiched in tightly, and of course, one of you is a douchebag reading Conan The Barbarian. And you missed the signal when I out on my eye mask and put in my ear plugs that I have no interest in you whatsoever. So shut up and read your douche-y book.
2. 19 hours is a long time to do anything...eat chocolate mud cake, drink whiskey, have mind-blowing sex, watch Twin Peaks...19 hours is too long.
1. Flight Socks
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