1, 2, 3, 4, I Declare a Debt Ceiling War!

Why is there so much juicy news to discuss when I'm supposed to be on vacation?? The hubs and I happened to be touring CNN today, when news of the latest developments in the ongoing debt-limit discussion came across the ticker. I just couldn't let this topic go.*

“He shoved back and said ‘I’ll see you tomorrow’ and walked out,” House Majority Leader Eric Cantor (R-Va.) told reporters in the Capitol after the meeting . . . Democratic sources dispute Cantor’s version of Obama’s walk out, but all sides agree that the two had a blow up. The sources described Obama as “impassioned” but said he didn’t exactly storm out of the room . . . On exiting the room, Obama said that “this confirms the totality of what the American people already believe” about Washington, according to a Democratic official familiar with the negotiations, and that officials are “too focused on positioning and political posturing” to make difficult choices.**

Freaking. Brilliant. Isn't that what I've been saying since the overly dramatic budget discussions, earlier this year? I'm so glad that POTUS agrees with me. Congress needs to GET. IT. TOGETHER. Last I checked, they are elected officials, and should be doing everything in their power to represent the best interests of the American people. Listen, I'm confident that nobody wants our national debt to just keep increasing with no end in sight . . . but what makes this time different than the FIVE times the debt ceiling was raised during the most recent Bush Administration (to the tune of almost a whopping $4 trillion)?? I'm just curious, because the four Republicans currently holding Congressional leadership positions, Speaker John Boehner, House Majority Leader Eric Cantor, Senate Minority Leader Mitch McConnell, and Senate Minority Whip Jon Kyl, each voted "yea" at least 4 times each, to approve Bush's requests (only Kyl voted "nay" on the first request; the others voted "yea" all five times).*** Did I mention that those votes of approval did NOT accompany any demands for drastic spending cuts? Hmmm . . . one of these things is not like the other.

So again, what is different now? Could it be . . . that Obama is President (the horror!), and the GOP would rather see America fall into perpetual recession-laden pieces before voting to support anything he proposes? Does it have anything to do with ridiculous political agendas and feuds that are huge roadblocks to any sort of progress, whatsoever? I call bullshit. During the Bush Administration, the GOP seemed to clearly understand that sometimes you have to spend money to make money; they acknowledged that the debt ceiling had to be raised in order for the American economy to stay on track. Unfortunately, something seems to have happened to their good sense since then, because now all they seem to be doing is dicking around and playing political games (i.e., pissing contests). Hey, no big deal, right? So what if a few people don't get their social security checks? As long as the GOP can prove their point, screw America!**** (Wait, what is their point, again?)

It seems to me like everybody on Capitol Hill has lost their damn minds with the 2012 election looming. We (the common folks that nobody seems to give a shit about anymore) all know that nothing productive gets done around election time, because everyone is too busy climbing up on their soapboxes, and mudslinging/name-calling/personally trashing their political opponents foes, but this is just ridiculous. Debt ceiling, shmet shmeiling. Just vote to raise it, already. Real talk -- it's not like we're going to pay it back anytime soon, right? So who gives a crap? Good ol' W promised to pay off the debt in ten years (Did he miss the memo that presidential terms are only 4 years, and presidents can only serve two terms? Last time I checked, 4 x 2 = 8 . . . oh, wait. Multiplication is kind of difficult. Nevermind.), but everybody knew he was full of it. Cantor needs to just suck it up, quit cock blocking, and get on board. Because this shit is ridiculous. You hear me? Ri-dickaluss.

My feelings can best be summed up by the following quote from a democratic aide, "This is just more juvenile behavior from [Cantor] and Boehner needs to rein him in, and let the grown-ups get to work."

Get over yourselves and get 'er done, folks. The American people (remember us?) are counting on you (because we have no choice). DO THE RIGHT THING.
Thanks,
-Management


*Don't you worry your pretty little heads; I haven't forgotten about the Bachmann shrew. Her day is coming soon. I can't let that topic go, either. Because she's a racist . . . and a homophobe . . . and we don't tolerate her kind 'round here.
**Read more: http://www.politico.com/news/stories/0711/58937.html#ixzz1S8h5Qu4U
***I'm really not making this up, I promise. Get the deets here. The facts have to be true if they came from a .org website, right?
****I feel like that's going to be the GOP platform in 2012: SCREW AMERICA! They sure are doing a thorough job of that right now. Right-wing, my ass. They sure seem like Wrong-wing, to me.

Amended: Casey Anthony and the Silence of the Lamb

*This article was amended on 07.01.2011*

Okay, folks. I'm going to ask that you briefly indulge me - perhaps I'm a little slow on the reuptake, but I'd like to chat about the Casey Anthony trial. This story hits super close to home for me because I was actually living in Orlando in 2008, when Caylee "went missing." For those of you who don't know, let me tell you - the whole city practically shut down. There were search parties, billboards; they dragged the lakes. Everybody was looking for this poor little girl. I'm pretty sure that as all of the bizarre details slowly started to filter in, I decided rather quickly that fun-loving Casey Anthony was guilty as sin. Not because of the trashy pics that surfaced, with her sandwiched between various men, grinning in anticipation of the train she was [no doubt] getting ready to pull. (Nope, she's an adult. If she wants to spend her life immersed in the Orlando nightlife (if you can really call it that), that's her business; I'm not judging.) I think what made up my mind was the dead body smell wafting from her trunk, and all of the other sketchy things, like the reports of the nonexistent Zanny the Nanny (um...Casey lived at home with her parents...how could she possibly afford a nanny), and the shovel Casey allegedly borrowed from the neighbors. Um...suspicious, much? There was just something fishy to me about the thought of a mother of a 3 year old who allegedly misplaced her child . . . and then borrowed a shovel from her neighbor. But what do I know?

Now flash forward to the present and the details are not getting any clearer. But can I just say - I'm SO tired of the damn Anthonys! Those enabling parents need to be ashamed of themselves. It's not my job to sit here and decide whether George Anthony touched Casey in her no-no place . . . but between you and me, I'm not buying it. What victim of sexual abuse by a family member continues to reside in said family member's house, even after reaching the legal age of independence? Nope. Doesn't happen. Those girls grow up with one foot out the door, poised and ready for the first opportunity to escape. I'll tell you another thing they don't do - raise their daughter in that same household, with the same abuser. Again, it just doesn't happen . . .and what about this cockamamie story about drowning in the pool? I don't know about you, but I've seen enough episodes of CSI and Law & Order to know that if someone's cause of death is drowning . . . there should probably be some, I don't know, WATER in their lungs? Last time I checked, that's how people drown. Their lungs fill with water and they die. It's not rocket science . . . if they can determine what you ate for dinner on the day of your death, I'm pretty sure they can figure out if there's some water in your lungs. Maybe the Orange County MedicalExaminer should check out this informative little link. That, or catch up on all of the CSI episodes that have evidently gone unwatched on the dvr. I'm just saying. *Okay, so I guess I didn't take decomp into consideration. I can admit when I'm wrong; but I'm sticking to my guns on this point. I find it super difficult to believe that Caylee Anthony accidentally drowned in the family pool. Again, I grew up in Central Florida. There are thousands of houses with pools in the backyard, and sadly, children die from accidental drownings in those same pools every year. Their parents don't go to jail; they mourn the loss of their innocent loved one. Had Caylee died accidentally by drowning in the pool, their first instinct would have been to call 911, and try to save that poor baby. It definitely wouldn't have been to bury her body in the woods. That's all I'm sayin about that.*

Here's the thing: what really gets my goat is that even after all of that, after all of her mudslinging and accusatory crap . . . they're still on Casey's side. Pathetic Cindy Anthony just can't let go and realize that her precious, shrew of a daughter is actually a pathological narcissist. It enfuriates me that she had the nerve to get on the stand and perjured herself (my opinion) about the internet chloroform research. Pa-lease. STOP LYING. No wonder your child grew up to be a selfish, murdering asshole. Because you're probably always there to pick up the pieces and duct tape (pun intended) them back together for her. Not to mention, it takes one to know one. Cindy Anthony has been lying for years - don't forget, she tried to correct her initial statement about the smell of decomp in the trunk to "stale pizza." Stale pizza? Really?! Uh. Yikes. Unless one of the toppings was human flesh, there is no reason a stale pizza should smell like a decomposing body and DEATH.

Listen, I know I'm not judge, jury or executioner, but let's face facts. If it walks like a duck and quacks like a duck, it's probably a duck . . . and she very likely killed her baby duckling. I'm not saying it was intentional - I don't necessarily think it was. What I do think is that Casey is a selfish brat and didn't want to miss a night out at Club Roxy, or whatever debaucherous hot spot happened have free martinis until 11 that night, so it was easier to slap some duct tape on that poor, sweet girl's mouth and toss her in the trunk.

I honestly have no idea how this is all going to end. One thing I am sure of is that the PWT in Central Florida must be in hog heaven. This is the biggest news shitstorm to hit Central Florida since . . . Ted Bundy? No, really. People are lining up at the courthouse to sit in on this murder trial. Lining. Up. Like it's a midnight pre-release showing of the latest Twilight movie, or something. The eager beavers even erupted into a fist fight, for pete's sake. I couldn't make this up if I tried. See below.

Source

Now, that's class. I could go on about this trial forever, but what's the point *then we'd have to get into some unnecessary "eye for an eye" debate over the death penalty, and nobody's interested in that can of worms.* Besides, if you're following the case, Jose Baez is probably all the long-winded commentary you need. I'll check back with any noteworthy updates, and in the meantime, let's keep our fingers crossed for justice. In the words of Hannibal Lecter (another pathological narcissist), "All good things to those who wait."

Fly Down Memory Lane

I came across this article on http://www.time.com/, and I was just appalled. The long and short of it is that U.S. Airlines collected a whopping $3.4 BILLION in bag fees last year. Right. You heard me. Three. Point. Four. Billion. Dollars. That sounds like a scene from an Austin Powers movie, right? Unfortunately, the airline business appears to have become the nation's own personal Dr. Evil, with Delta leading the pack.

"Delta generated the most revenue from bag fees — $952 million — followed by the combined United and Continental at nearly $655 million. American collected $580 million and US Airways $513 million."

...$952 million? Really?! And perhaps I failed to mention that the total amount collected ($3.4B) marked a twenty-four percent increase in profits from 2009. A 24% increase? I thought we were in a recession! I think you'd be hard pressed to find another industry that can report an increase in profits - much less an increase as significant as 24%. It's just ridiculous. Meanwhile, the airlines are crying broke mouth and complaining about the rise in fuel costs. Hold on, let me put down my violin so I can get the message across. Everyone is struggling with rising fuel costs. It costs me $70+ to fill up my gas tank. We get it. But hiking up the prices on airline tickets wasn't enough? Travelers paying twice the price for fares didn't cushion the blow even just a little bit? I guess not.

This prompted me to really think about what other changes the airlines have made to compensate for the rising costs of the industry. It's time for a flight down memory lane...

Remember when . . .

...your frequent flyer miles actually counted for something? Yeah, you can absolutely still trade in your miles for a flight . . . but no guarantees that the flight will even have "frequent flyer seats" available. Unless you are trying to fly to Minnesota or Maine in the dead of winter (but not during inclement weather, because then you would inevitably be stuck at an airport for a week - if you think the airline is going to foot the bill for a delay due to an act of God . . . think again). Yeah, that's right...just like the time share tours that offer you a free vacation, there are definite scheduling limitations as to what dates you are allowed to travel. Big surprise, those dates are hardly ever convenient to any traveling that you may want to do, nor do they ever fall on a holiday.

...there was a complimentary pillow/blanket set waiting for you at your seat? I mean sure, of course you were scared to use them because they were probably carrying some form of the Gon'die (which implies that if you get it, you gon' die) . . . but at least the choice was yours. You could rest your weary head or choose to pass on the germy cesspools and possible exposure to the Ebola Virus or some random flesh-eating bacteria. Again - your choice. Because they were there waiting for you. Like the little complimentary bottles of shampoo and conditioner at a nice hotel . . . just there if you need 'em.

...airlines fed you during your flight? Yeah, the food was garbage and smelled like rotten baby vomit on a hot summer's day...but at least you got food. Granted, the smell of airplane food almost always made me reach for my complimentary puke pouch (Do they still offer those? Probably for a small fee, eh?), so this is probably the least of my concerns . . . but it's the principle. The hubs and I flew to Hawaii for our honeymoon, which is about a 12 hour trip from the Sunshine State. Don't be alarmed, Continental did feed us; HOWEVER, they fed us a microwaved "chicken sandwich" that made my elementary school cafeteria food look like gourmet, five-star cuisine. No joke, they served it to us still in the bag they microwaved it in. Oh yeah, and I'm pretty sure we got a bag of chips, too. It was super classy. Needless to say, I skipped the worthless calories and sodium and starved myself all the way to Hawaii. So, that was awesome.

...airplanes had a little bit of legroom? Ok, it's not like you could cut cartwheels in between the seats, but people could actually fit their entire person into the seat without having to either (a) hang their legs into the aisle to avoid knee-jacking the person in front of them, or (b) fold themselves into unnatural positions to try to politely keep from accidentally fondling the strangers surrounding them. My favorite aspect of the lack of legroom is during landing when my knees SLAM into the seat in front of me. I'm convinced that my kneecaps will one day shatter on impact and then at least I could skip the line for free in my wheelchair. The seats are so close together now, that I could very clearly spot the older, gay gentleman (I use the term loosely) a few rows up, creeping on young, adolescent boys on his iPad the last time I traveled. True story. He must have felt my shocked and dismayed eyes piercing his perverted soul, because he glanced around casually, spotted me spotting him, and quickly returned his portable perving device to its rightful home in his murse.

...you could actually make your way down the main aisle to your seat without inadvertantly setting your ass on some unsuspecting stranger's shoulder? I'm pretty small, and I can't seem to ever get to my seat anymore with having to apologize profusely to numerous people for booty bumping them in the face. How do bigger people do it? Especially the ones that already have to buy two seats. Speaking of which, has that rule always existed? Or just since the airlines switched out the old, quasi-normal-sized seats out for anorexic midget seats? I wonder about that.

...the overhead bins were large enough to fit all of the carry-on bags of the passengers on the plane? I can't decide if the bins themselves have actually gotten smaller (along with the aisles, the seats, the sodas, and the amount of legroom), or if people have just started cramming as much junk as possible into their carry-ons in an effort to avoid those ridiculously over-priced baggage fees. Good news is, I've discovered that they don't charge you when you have to gate check your bag because there isn't sufficient room in the overhead bins. Don't tell anyone; it'll be our little secret.

I could go on and on. Travel, overall, has become just a huge violation. Your wallet gets violated when you purchase your ticket. The airline comes back for some more wallet sodomy when you check your bag (unless you fly Southworst, of course). Then there's the double (if you're lucky, like me) violation/molestation at the security checkpoint (I'm confident that Wanda, the lovely TSA agent who blessed me with a very thorough pat down and I are now going steady), and the long string of blatant violations that follow. I miss the good ol' days when traveling was an experience, rather than a chore (a chore accompanied by an unsolicited manhandling of the semi-sexual nature). Maybe if the airlines make another several billion dollar profit off of us poor economy class peons this year, we'll begin to see some sort of improvement that would make flying a more enjoyable investment . . . but I wouldn't hold my breath if I were you.

Whatever LOLA wants, LOLA gets...

I would say Happy Hump Day, but mine has been less than stellar this morning and it's not so happy. So I'm just gonna skip the typical chipper greeting and get right to it. Does anyone else watch Law and Order: Los Angeles (LOLA)?? I apparently caught the Law and Order bug sometime around my freshman year of college. I think I liked it so much because it was ALWAYS on! I could wake up and watch it on TNT, and then it would be on USA all day long. I can't even tell you how many L&O marathons I've had whilst laying in bed (when I should have been in class), munching on some sort of tasty snack (yes, I am one of those people whose guilty pleasure (among other things) is eating in bed). So, needless to say, I was delighted when good ol' dependable Dick Wolf (What a name! If he were American-Indian, I'd like to think his name would be reversed to Wolf Dick. Hehehe 'cause it makes me giggle.) came through with yet another addition to the L&O family (although I've heard that [not so] sadly, LOLA didn't make the cut and will not be renewed for a second season). So, I of course set my dvr to record the entire season.

HOWEVER, last night, I tuned into the newest episode and I was pissed. LOLA committed a huge faux pas and now I don't know if I can continue to watch it. I hate it when shows/networks do things like replace an actor who plays a major character (they do it most often on soap operas, I think) without warning, or have one actor make two different guest appearances as different characters (which actually does happen sometimes on L&O, but it's hard to call because there are so many of them, you can't remember which L&O the actor was on), or change major parts of the storyline because they don't do their research on archived episodes. The most blatant offense I've witnessed to date was an extremely old episode from the first season of 90210 where Donna Martin's mother was named Nancy and was played by a different actress than the woman who played her mother for the remaining duration of the series...oh yeah, and her name was Felice. Everybody knows Donna's mom's name was Felice, right??!? Well, I'm not making this up. Apparently, Donna's sweet mom Nancy's soul was eaten by this imposter Felice after Season One and nobody noticed (except me). Super convenient. But I digress. Back to LOLA.

So I watched Monday night's episode, "Plummer Park," which my Uverse® info swears first aired on 05/30/2011 . . . and Skeet Ulrich was on it. *blink blink blink* For those of you who do watch, I'm sure you can understand my confusion (spoiler alert!). Yeah, that's right. Confusion. Because Skeet Ulrich's character, Detective Rex Winters, was killed off by a Mexican druglord in the first post-hiatus episode, "Zuma Canyon," which aired on 04/11/2011. Who does that?!? Ugh. Additionally, instead of Connie Rubirosa, it was that less talented ADA, ol' whatever her name is. *SIGH* To my chagrin, this episode was obviously aired out of sequence, which I personally think was an unforgiveable oversight. All that says to me is that instead of being concerned with the quality of their programming, the producers were more interested in making their post-hiatus premiere "sexy" with the death of one of the two good looking men on the show main characters (not to mention the only other actor besides Terence Howard that any of us really gave a crap about). Epic fail. Good job, NBC. Way to ostracize one of the ten loyal viewers you had left. No wonder this poor excuse for a L&O spinoff is getting cancelled.

Well, this blog (again) turned out to be a lot longer than expected. So, I will bid you [and LOLA] adieu. Hopefully my day will improve and with it, my mood. But no promises. Love ya, mean it.

fridaze funk

i woke up this morning in a funk. i can't seem to get it together - which could be attributed to any number of things, honestly. but i have no energy and can't seem to focus on much of anything. what better time for a blog? i definitely do not have my wits about me enough to put together an intelligent post, so i'll start the day with a few random pet peeves. i'm boycotting capitalization today, too. deal with it.

i hate it when i am at the elevator and i have already pushed the button...and then some dummy saunters up behind me and pushes the button again, EVEN THOUGH the button is obviously already illuminated. not just once, but repeatedly. as if pressing that damn button is going to somehow magically cause the elevator to skip all of the other floors that have already pushed their button and come barreling straight down to us because some asshole won't stop pushing the call button. yeah. 'cause that happens all the time.

i hate it when i do my good deed for the day and let someone into line in front of me in traffic and they don't wave. listen, i didn't have to let you in. i did because i'm not a jerk. so don't swing on in here like you were entitled to my place in line. you weren't. quit being a dick and wave. have some couth.

i hate it when people don't know how to give constructive criticism. telling me you don't like something and then not being able to articulate why is super annoying. oh, ok. so you don't have any suggestions for improvement; you just don't like it? duly noted. you could have kept that to yourself.

i hate it when i have a typo, but my typo changes the intended word into another existing word, so spell check doesn't catch it. hug pet peeve (exhibit a).

i hate it when i find the perfect item of clothing on unbelievable discount online and they no longer have my size. it's just not fair.

i hate it when people change their Facebook profile pics to those cheesy self-portraits of them holding up the phone in the bathroom, or in front of the refrigerator, because they just had to share how fabulous their ass looks in a tight little skirt, or how amazing their new fake boobs look in their bikini, or how they're racking up 12-pack abs. if the goods are that fabulous and you are that vain, perhaps you should invest in a tripod for your camera so you can take all of the self-portraits you want without looking like a total loser. everyone is guilty of taking a self-portrait or two, but it's so much more gratuitous when it's to solicit parts of your body that you should perhaps keep to yourself. or at least, would keep to yourself if you had any class. additionally, how many self-portraits is it truly acceptable to have without looking like a jackass? everyone should love themselves. it's rude to expect everyone else to love you that much.

i hate close-talkers. you know the ones. the people who stand uncomfortably close when you're trying to have a normal conversation and then you can't even concentrate and you lose your train of thought because all you can think about is how said close-talker totally just popped your personal bubble and everytime you try to take a subtle step back, they take a not-so-subtle step forward. we really only need to be semi-close if i'm telling you a juicy secret, or catching you up on the latest chisme. otherwise, you should keep a respectful distance. you don't need to sit on my lap to hear me talk. i'm very good at projecting. if you can't hear me - i'll speak up.

i hate paper clips. especially the useless ones that are coated in colored paint that leaves marks on your paper when you remove them. there's just no need for paper clips when there's such a thing as gem clips and binder clips. let's start a movement to render them obsolete. they can join the ranks of typewriters and dial-up internet connections.

i hate it when people shoulder check me out in public and don't excuse themselves. oh, ok. so not only could you not be bothered to shift your body half a step so as to avoid bumping into me, but you also can't be bothered to excuse yourself? you suck. at life.

that said, wanna know what i do like? fridays! so...happy friday to you! hopefully i'll snap out of this fog and have something more substantial to contribute later.

Potty Peeves

There is a long list of things I hate about public restrooms. Randomly, I realized today that I was mentally compiling a list of said things. What a great opportunity to share! See below.

1. I hate it when I wait too long and I run into a stall, hurriedly remove my pants, breathe a sigh of relief as I begin to empty my bladder...then glance over and realize that the stall is out of toilet paper. 
2. I hate it when I get to the bathroom and there's pee all over the seat. Where were you raised; a barn? Clean up after yourself if you can't seem to get it into the giant hole waiting there specifically to catch your excrement.
3. I hate it when a public restroom door makes you 'push' to enter and 'pull' to exit. Why don't they make all of them push to exit? Doesn't it bother anyone else that they just washed their hands and now have to contaminate them with other people's fecal matter? Ugh.
4. I hate it when I wait too long and it becomes an emergency situation, so I run to the bathroom, only to be subjected to an assault on my olfactory senses because some unthoughtful hag is having kittens in the handi-stall...but because it's an emergency situation, I run the risk of wetting myself if I turn around and come back later...so I have to just commit and make it happen. I've come to realize that I have a pretty great lung capacity. I can hold my breath longer than you would think. I would like to post a sign for all of the inconsiderate poop machines on my floor to next time, please use a restroom on a different floor. I shouldn't be able to determine what you ate for lunch by the severity of the fumes coming out of your butt. Thanks.
5. I hate it when #4 happens (Well, that could be misleading - it's always a #1 for me in public restrooms. Real ladies take care of business in the privacy of their own home. I'm just referring to Potty Peeve #4...and what could a #4 possibly consist of?? Yikes.), and I'm forced to subject myself to the abovementioned noxious fumes in the bathroom...and then the poopy perpetrator finishes, flushes, and leaves super quickly to avoid any awkward sink conversation after declaring war on the bathroom...and then someone else comes in while I'm still in the stall. I feel obligated to shout through the door that it wasn't me - but would they believe me, anyway?

...and another one...

Oh yeah! I also hate people who touch my computer screen. That is all.

more randomness...

this morning, during my bad morning escapades, i thought of a few more things people that really get under my skin (big surprise):

• people who go super slowly in the right hand lane and then don't turn right at the red light (obviously, this mostly only bothers me when i have to turn right).
• people who linger in my blind spot in traffic.
• people who stare. this woman in the elevator was staring at me intently this morning.WTF are you staring at?? mind your own business. i'm having a bad day and you're about to get the stink eye. beat it.
• people who insert themselves into a conversation that does not at all concern them, or that are very obviously eavesdropping on a conversation that they are not part of. again, mind your business.
• people who are super cheery first thing in the morning. listen, not everyone wakes up happy. i usually don't catch my snap until about 10:00. i suggest you steer clear until then.

hopefully i can snap out of this friday morning funk. until then, i am counting down until five o'clock and my inevitable cocktail that will soon follow.

The Joys of Flying with Southworst Airlines

Am I the only person who hates flying Southwest (or as I like to call them, Southworst)?

Source: http://news.icanhascheezburger.com/2009/07/02/political-pictures-southwest-airlines/

I mean, they reel you in with their promises of cheaper airfare and bags flying for free…but does anyone really like flying Southworst? I know I don’t. The best comparison that I can think of is that flying Southworst is like being on a Greyhound bus…with wings…and more expensive tickets. I think; I can’t honestly say that I’ve ever ridden the Greyhound. But I imagine it is very similar.

As much as I hate flying Southworst, I often find myself doing so anyway because of the cheap fares. With the price of gas and airplane tickets rapidly rising, sometimes a girl has got to do what she has got to do; especially when that girl has a tendency towards procrastination. Such is the case for this weekend’s trip.

This morning, I had the privilege of being in boarding group B, so I just patiently waited until it was my group’s turn to join the line. As long as I’m in my section, I’m not going to nickel and dime the other people about what specific boarding position they have. The sections are divided into increments of five. What’s the worst that could happen; you end up behind the other four people in your section, instead of ahead of them? BFD. I always chuckle a little when I see people comparing boarding passes and then one proclaiming victoriously, “Oh, I’m ahead of you.” Congratulations! You get to board the plane one step ahead of me. I bet that makes you feel all warm and fuzzy inside.

After making it through the boarding line, it was on to the long trek through the gate tunnel, whichof course, was not climate controlled. They never are! Why is that? All of those people crowding in those tunnels, breathing their hot breath and coughing and sneezing their germs around, plus a lack of air circulation, like always, added up to a major fit of nausea for me. I might add, the people in those tunnels should adhere to the second commandment of elevator etiquette. If I can feel your aforementioned hot ass breath on any part of my body; you are too close. Back it up and wait your turn. There’s not much more annoying than strangers standing so close that they can step on the back of your shoes.

I made it through all of the typical trials relatively unscathed, but just as I was about to mentally congratulate myself on maintaining my cool and not totally panicking with all of the bs going on around me, I stepped onto the plane and right into a guerilla assault on my olfactory senses. Awesome. Someone was nice enough to wait to take a shit until after they boarded the plane. Apparently the airport bathroom was not good enough; this thoughtful individual held their bowels (in order to claim their rightful place in the boarding line pecking order, no doubt) until they got to the already cramped airplane latrine with the recycled air ventilation system. SO rude.

Trying to escape the noxious fumes (and to choke back the overwhelming urge to vomit), I ran down the frustratingly narrow aisle, bumping countless sets of knees in my mad dash for a breath of fresh air. I looked around frantically, searching for a sign that I was not the only person who smelled death looming. Oddly enough, no one else seemed fazed, with the exception of the woman who was vigorously splashing herself with her purse-sized body splash. I’m pretty sure she was mumbling something to the effect of “Calgon, take me away.”

Needless to say, I plopped myself into the seat next to her and gratefully inhaled the lingering remnants of her delightful apple scent. So, to the woman sitting next to me in 8D on Southworst Flight #1305 to LAS, I thank you.

TSA – Short for This Sucks Ass?

I am flying to Las Vegas this weekend for a quick trip, so today’s theme will be travel. As much as I love to travel, the actual physical act of traveling to my destination of choice always leaves something to be desired. There’s the inevitable hike to the airport (Have you noticed that nobody ever really lives close to the airport? Logical, but not quite convenient.); the cluster you-know-what of trying to find the least expensive off-site parking lot with the cleanest looking shuttle buses; standing in line for ticketing/baggage check; and the crown jewel of traveling after 2001, what really makes traveling a good, strong, fist in the ass, is airport security.

Now don’t get me wrong; I applaud TSA for putting up with people constantly bitching and moaning and not being intelligent enough to figure out by now that yes, they have to take their shoes off, and yes, their watches must also come off, and yes, like the multiple signs say, their laptops and all liquid items need to come out of their bags. That must be annoying. I also am happy to comply with a quick screening and x-ray of my bags, if it means that I can rest assured that I will arrive at my destination safely. But is it too much to ask to make it through the security checkpoint with a modicum of dignity?

With the new giant x-ray machine/body scanner things they’ve got at most major airports nowadays, airplane travel has turned into somewhat of a nightmare. But apparently the body scan isn’t enough, because this morning, I definitely was subjected to not only a scan of my hot bod, but a glorious rubdown from TSA’s typical classy female employee…even though I purposely wore leggings so it would be quite apparent that I have nothing to hide. The experience was much like being on a terrible blind date that you can’t get out of with a random someone of the same sex that you picked up off of the side of the road (in the wrong neighborhood) that ends with a half-assed feel up and no happy ending. This obviously made my day.

To break the ice, I casually commented, “I’d have to be pretty talented if I could fit anything else into these leggings, don’t you think?”  (Not to mention, I already had to stand in the pervert portal and raise my hands above my head for the full screen. Remember when that happened? You know, 1.5 minutes ago? If I did have anything hidden; it’s a little disconcerting that it didn’t show up on that scan. That seems a little pointless, no?)

She laughed, “That’s what I was thinking.”

Well, if that’s what you were thinking, maybe you should go with that thought and let me continue on my merry way instead of rubbing me firmly up and down both of my legs, brushing teasingly against my crotch as if we’re experimental college girlfriends. I didn’t have friends like that then, and I don’t now; back off, lady. Let me pick my dignity up off the floor and move on with my life. Thanks, TSA.

Source: http://jasonjeffrey.wordpress.com/2010/11/24/the-distraction-of-the-week-tsa-rage-roundup/

Hello? Is it Me You're Looking For?

Welcome back! I'm sure you've missed me so. This morning's topic is elevator etiquette.

I am subjected to various elevator rides with random people every day at my job. One would think that in corporate America, people would be intelligent enough to understand that there are certain unspoken rules regarding appropriate etiquette when riding a public elevator.
One would think.
Unfortunately, let me be the first to tell you, that is NOT the case.

Perhaps the underlying issue is that, indeed, no one has actually ever written these rules of etiquette. Most of it is common sense/courtesy, but you never know who in this world has brought-upsy and who does not. I would venture to say that the majority of people unfortunately, do not. So, let's call this the Three basic Commandments of Elevator Etiquette:

1. THOU SHALT NOT CUT PEOPLE IN LINE - One would think that this is a pretty obvious rule. If you don't cut people in any other line, why start now? Why is it acceptable to cut people who have been waiting for the elevator long before you arrived? What makes your destination any more important? I HATE it when I am the first to arrive to an elevator bank, I press the button, and then a throng of sheep come to also catch the elevator to escape their own personal Corporate hell. So, because said crowd has arrived, I shift slightly to the side to accommodate them (people in TX are big, what can I say?). When the elevator doors open, said crowd pushes its way into the elevator, brushing me to the side, as though I wasn't the one who originally called the elevator to begin with. Furthermore, because I have respect for people's personal bubbles, I will not force myself and my big ass purse onto the over-crowded elevator, because I don't want to crash to my death; so I have to take the next elevator...and the cycle repeats. Which brings me to #2:
2. THOU SHALT NOT STAND NUT TO BUTT - HUGE pet peeve. I'm sorry, but cramming 8-10 people into an average-sized elevator is just unacceptable. Everyone should have respect for people's personal space (just as a general rule in life), and I feel as though that primal right is violated everytime some asshole feels the need to shove into whatever tiny little space they can find on an already over-filled elevator. Stranger Danger! Back off! If I can feel your breath on any part of my body, you are TOO CLOSE. Take the next elevator. Nobody wants to rub genitals with strangers on an elevator. It's just uncomfortable all around.
3. THOU SHALT WAIT YOUR TURN - Oh, boy. This is another big one for me. If there are people on the elevator and you are getting on, you should wait until everybody who needs to get off actually makes their exit before you come swaggering on with your self-importance. It's a little bit like when you open the door for yourself, and someone takes advantage and scoots in directly in front of you before you can make your exit/entrance. It's RUDE. Hi, I just rode the effing elevator with 10 people down 6 flights and I'm already irritated and/or anxious. Get the hell out of my way and let me get off this death trap before you add your body weight to it. Thanks.

Now that you know how to properly behave (though I never thought for one minute that any of my friends/readers would be so ill behaved), please pass this little gem on to everyone you know. I'm trusting you to disseminate the word.

blasianbitchwithablog

Hold on to your hats, folks! I have arrived. Hide your kids, hide your wives…and hide your husbands, too. After much trepidation and deliberation, I have [finally] decided to start my very own blog. I’m not sure what gives me the false hope that anyone thinks I’m clever and witty enough to actually read my blog…but let’s face it, I don’t really care. This is all about ME: my random thoughts, my snarky, under-my-breath mutterings, my complaints, my joys, my trials, my tribulations…ME.

If you don’t like it, hit the bricks.

Nobody is making you read this.

I abscond myself of any liability for your reading pleasure.

Let me go ahead and apologize in advance for anything I may write that offends your delicate sensibilities…but…this thing is called blasianbitchwithablog…what did you expect? I mean, really. It’s pretty transparent. I’m blasian. I can be quite the bitch. I have a blog.

The end.

Again, if you are not a fan – beat. It. Nobody likes a party pooper.

So, now that my little disclaimer is out of the way, let’s get to the nitty gritty. How about an introduction? I am the blasianbitchwithablog. I would say the one and only, but it appears as though racial ambiguity is becoming more and more popular. I’m no longer the only mixed kid on the block! What a relief. I have a lot to say – and it’s not always nice (but it’s usually pretty funny). I live a pretty average life…okay, maybe slightly over average…but I won’t rub your nose in it. Lord knows, braggarts never prosper. I live in Houston, TX with my hubs of two years. No kids, no pets. Yet, anyway. I’m fairly certain that if I would allow it, my husband would impregnate me at his first opportunity. I’d love to make it to my 30^th birthday before I have to sign my life away to a needy newborn. Call it selfish; call it what you want, but…it’s my uterus. So, back off.

Hmmm, what else should be included in a proper introduction? Likes and dislikes? I have a lot. Let me see if I can summarize in a list format:

Likes: people who mind their manners, a good belly laugh, brunch with friends (who doesn’t like brunch?!), big words, hijinks and shenanigans, good spelling and grammar, fashion, people watching, being lazy, the ellipsis (in case you hadn’t noticed my blatant overuse just yet), daydreaming, houndstooth print, remembering my dreams long enough to recant them, good music, asking questions, riding with the top down/roof open, good storytellers and stuff. Yes, I said it. Stuff. I mean, what girl doesn’t like stuff?

Oh man, where do I begin on the bad things? I’ll try to keep it short, since I would imagine that the majority of my dislikes will eventually end up on my blog as they randomly occur to me.

Dislikes:  RUDE PEOPLE, traffic, rude people IN traffic, stupid people, people who loudly proclaim their beliefs and try to shove their morals down my throat, smelly people, douchey people, obnoxious people…wait. This list could go on and on forever…it looks like all of my dislikes revolve around people…so do I just dislike people? Wow. That felt like a cathartic revelation. Did you feel it, too?

Ok. That’s enough about me. I’m sure you’ll learn all you care to know if, after reading this, you decide to tune in to more of my ramblings. This was fun. We should do it more often. For now though, I’m out.