Real Stories of the Flyway Patrol

Yet again, I am blogging on planes--this second battery was a wise investment. Luckily, no jerks to read my posts while I am writing them.

I Thanksgave in Arizona this year--connecting with some college friends. (My camera is still DOA, so no pics. Maybe for Christmas I will buy a new one.) Turkey was tryptophanific, as was The Illuminario--small musical groups playing everything from mariachi to Christmas tunes in the Phoenix Desert Botanical Gardens.

Flying continues to hold its usual charm for me: flight to Hawaii delayed 6 hours, then forced to land in LAX because of an onboard generator failure, which was followed by a joyful stay in an airport lounge. ETA delayed to 2:10 AM Sunday from the original 11:30 AM Saturday.

The LAX airport holding corral is where it's AT! For everyone who thought of saying 'two turn-tables and a microphone' please go stand in a on the corner. The one with tranny prostitutes.

LAX is THE place if you want to meet Euro-trash who think that the whole "No Smoking" thing doesn't apply to them. Did you really think no one would notice? Not so chipper when I notified the Airport Police, were you? You are messing with America--we force countries into chaotic civil wars for much, much less. Air France? Pshaw. More like, Air "I am sure we have a secret CIA prison for torture wherever you are going." Smoke in my airport….

However, in every situation there is a little room for levity. Not funny: (man to wife) "Keep an eye on my seat so no one takes it." Still not funny: Wife is reading Memoirs of A Geisha. Funny: The Braille edition.

Finally back on the plane, I continue to fight the good passive-aggressive fight against electronic hegemony. Cell phone set to stun, ipod in alonergy mode, and laptop glowing brightly all during take-off--my equivalent of the Gibson "Frreeeedom" in Braveheart.

from » I make sleepy time inside of my bed dept

Addictions

Things I Am Thankful For Several Addictions I Have:

 

Chapstick Addiction: During the cold dark winter of my second grade, I discovered that licking my lips made them feel marginally better for approximately 30 seconds. I naturally concluded that to alleviate the chapped feeling, I should just lick my lips constantly...

 

Heroin (No one would believe it)

 

Blogging on Flights: That's right, guy sitting next to me, I am writing entries for my blog. No, I don't appreciate you reading my work as I type. Ha! Changing my font to 6-point is really screwing you up, old man. Well, that's what you get. Stop looking at my stuff, jerk. That's right now go back to reading your magazine like you weren't reading my writing.

 

Chapstick Continued: Now that I feel a measure of privacy (I really need a screen protector)…where was I? Anyway, I remember a giant tub of Vaseline that I would smother onto my lips like a doctor trying to suffocate a maggot out of a patient's scalp (true story). Since then, I have single-handedly kept the Chapstick corporation solvent. The theory is simple--there are a finite number of places into which a tube can disappear. By buying far too many tubes, I fill up all these places. The overflow is then always on my dresser, my bedside table etc.

 

Alcoholism (Not really that funny)

 

Headphones: Nothing says leave me alone at work, on a flight, standing in line like a good set of earphones. They don't even have to be on--just having them in exudes the "don't talk to me vibe."

 

Pimping (What is to be gained in copying a Chapelle Show skit? No, pimping ain't easy…)

 

Plagiarism: Consider it a full-service outsourcing operation--leveraging unused resources in the development of ideas, applying those ideas to a given situation, and then transcribing those ideas into thoughts and actions.

 

Orphan Outsourcing: Think of how much could be saved in labor arbitrage by outsourcing America's orphan needs to a country like Gambia, where according to the old white guy sitting in an open sewer on TV, where it only costs twelve cents a day. (See, plagiarism in action).

 

Passive Aggressive Computer Use: I will close the lid, but I am not turning this off. Don't even talk to me about my headphones. I don't care that three of you have asked me to turn this offf--I will keep pretending to turn it off, and then open in right back up again....

 
from » what i can really blog about dept

Character Arc

I have struggled for some time trying to reconcile the random course of human life and our need to super-impose an explanatory narrative over this life. More concretely, why do I have to give where I have lived, what I majored in, and what I am doing for work as a proxy for who I am?

This trouble started innocently enough. One Sunday at church, I departed from my standard "Do What I Want" philosophy. As a practical matter, this translates to playing Tetris or reading the New York Times on my phone. These day-of-rest activities were abruptly suspended when I was drawn into a conversation with a nice young lady.

My alonergy was in flux and in a moment of weakness, I made the audacious move of saying I enjoyed the talk she gave the previous week. Clearly a returned missionary, she followed that comment with a clear and direct invite to go on a date. What was I to do? I felt the Spirit? Probably just pressure.

Generally I prefer the "Do Whatever I Want Approach" to introductions. This entails: 1) taking nothing seriously, 2) twisting the other's words around, and 3) staring intensely at random people. However, there are two prerequisites: 1) you don't actually want to get to know the person and 2) you will never see the person again. Some people call this approach being an a-hole. Potayto, potahto.

I defaulted into a somewhat more reasonable approach for Saturday night, in part because I was tired from Excel-ing it up all day. I ran through the practiced schpiel--I am from California, but no not really, from nowhere, or everywhere, whatever. I went to a school that you have no idea exists. Yes it is nice, isn't it. I am working for a company that is equally obscure doing very specific work that you don't really get. I am sort of Robin Hood--taking from the middle class to give to the poor, the super-rich, and slicing off some for myself. How old am I? How old do you think? Yes 29 is a bit too high. You think I am amazing? You think I am sexy?! (I am going to ignore those comments, how am I supposed to respond?)

We did see Casino Royale and that was quite good. The best Bond movie ever, I would say. I never really got into the Sean Connery days. Brosnan films were always too polished and too Hollywood. People really get messed up in this one. Highly recommend it. Plus Bond has some nice threads.

The night ended poorly with an "I get it, your not interested," an about-face, and her doubletiming it across the street. The night has only intensified my belief in "Do Whatever I Want." I went against my beliefs and suffered punishment.

In the end, I see that Bond and I have quite a lot in common. His detachment from any particular woman is driven by his suave character, his mysterious job, and his prior heartache. I am similarly detached. Mostly due to apathy. And arrogance. And maybe some condescending tendencies. Finally, a dash of the creepy factor.

Ahh, My Books: The 'Do Whatever I Want' Story

I may have shared my philosophy with some of you, but I will codify it here to underscore its importance. "Do Whatever I Want."

Your initial reaction may be that this is a self-centered lifestyle. Yes and no. I don't mean that I do what I want to the exclusion of others' needs and wants. Rather, I will be decisive about the direction of my life. I have made many important decisions on my expectations of future events that have not materialized. I don't regret these decisions about jobs, school, and residence--but nothing has turned out how I imagined it.

I have been on Do Whatever I Want for at least six months now. I was unaware of the need to review this philosophy until tonight as I was reading Les Miserables when I came across this line:

"Ladies are like apple-turnovers, you must not over-indulge in them."

Exactly! I thought to myself, this Victor Hugo is a good man. I just had an apple fritter this morning (close enough to an apple turnover) and I hadn't eaten one since the summer. This, of course, is about the same frequency as my dating. I am glad I am in good company--a perfect corollary to Do Whatever I Want.

Continuing quickly along the page, my enthusiam for Hugo waned with:

"Indigestion was designed by God to impose morality on stomachs."

Puzzling? Certainly. Disheartening? Yes.... And if confusing is switching subjects within a paragraph to a topic just below my heart (my stomach), call it that too. Moreover, Hugo is assaulting something far too personal and much too private (again, my stomach).

I quicly rescanned the paragraph and discovered:

"Ladies you like apple-turnovers, but you must not over-indulge in them."

My corollary disappeared like proposed savings in a consulting gig--which is to say mercilessly and quickly. I am left now naked and alone with Do Whatever I Want. Fine. That is how I started reading Les Miserable tonight anyway.

The End

Blogging Checklist:

1) Find picture to put in blog. (x)
2) Find excuse to show I have classic taste in literature. (x)
3) Extend passing observation about one particular sentence through hyperbole. (x)
4) Pretend like eating is really all I think about. (x)
5) Rip off quote I posted yesterday. (x)
6) Make reference to consulting few people will really get to demonstrate superiority. (x)
7) Blindly follow staid writing rules and find a clencher for the end of the post. (x)
8) Don't let people forget that I read real books. Take your Grisham and die. (x)
9) Make sure clencher makes people uncomfortable. Me naked will probably do it. (x)
10) Write fresh and insightful Blogging Checklist, wherein I tongue in cheek tackle the big issues that prove too daunting for other writers: philosophy, agency, and the artifice of writing. (x)
11) Rip off another quote from the back of a book to use in describing my Blogging Checklist. (x)
12) Note how clever it is to mention the Blogging Checklist within the Blogging Checklist........CALLSTACK OVERFLOW. INIFITE LOOP ERROR.

Diaper Severance Package

I think parents don't know what they are doing. I have thought about it quite extensively (meaning, during this meeting that I am ignoring) and have decided that the best way to potty-train your children is to just give them the proper incentive.

I would just sit down with my kid, let them know the pros and cons, and offer them a "Poop Severance Package." If my child met the potty-training requirements before the 12, 18, 24 month mark, s/he would recieve the cash benefit as well as other non-monetary components. Details below. I assumed a 4% annual discount rate.






from » I seriously just saw yoda in a supposedly professional presentation dept

A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius

I just got the aforementioned book in the mail and, based strictly on the title, am very excited to read it.

However, in the shower this evening, I thought of a number of alternative titles.

"A Rump-shaking Session of Ridiculous Proportions"

"A Long-winded Man of Peculiar Sensibilities."

"A Wind-breaking Scent of Tantalizing Pungence"

"A Mind-searing Verse Done Medium Rare" -- (I had a nice steak for dinner)

"A Self-Centered Post of Extreme Callowness"

"A Pumpkin Bread of Great Worth" -- (sort of like the Pearl of Great Price)

"A Curiosity Stained Shirt of Banana Republic Middle America-dom"

Now I am just not even trying....I think for my next career, after pro-surfer, business magnate, and President of the United States, I think I would like to be a writer. I want someone to say of my writing:

"Heartbreaking? Certainly. Staggering? Yes...And if genius is capturing the universal in a fresh and memorable way, call it that too."

On TV

I watched tonight and felt nothing. I remember loving you. I remember staying quiet for an hour just to hear you speak. I was always with you. And now bitterness.

Marissa, I realize now you were the keystone of my OC religion. Ryan's transparent acting bores me. Summer's weight loss and shrunken eye sockets scare me. Seth's caustic lines (that took a team of writers to fashion; I could be that witty if I had a team working for me) produce neither jealously or rage. Just apathy. Just emptiness. Just regret.

You're dead. The show will soon be dead. You join my other television lovers and their dead shows--Jennifer Garner in Alias, Angie Harmon in Law & Order, and my brief affair with Heather Graham in Scrubs.

from » fourth-season-blows dept