On an UnEven Plane

Airplane Blog
Random Thoughts
1. I hope I never have a pilot who's suicidal or has marital issues. Can't you see the miserable, crying pilot saying "It's just not worth it!" He looks over at his co-pilot (not Jesus)(I hate that bumper sticker!) and says, "Dan, (in my mind all co-pilots are named Dan) do you see the horrible irony that while we're flying for American Eagle, she's probably spread Eagle?" or "Dan, do you ever just say to yourself 'Dan what's the point? Why did I get out of bed this morning.'" Or "Man, can you believe these incredibly heavy planes stay up in the air because of us?" His final three words coming out of his mouth in a cracked emotional voice. "Dan, what does my breath smell like?"
2. Don't you hate it when people ask really uncomfortable questions that there's no real way you can answer? (Not like that one.) Like this one, "Hey man, you ever been in an NFL locker room when they're changing out of their clothes?" or "Um, sir, are you gay or just stupid?" or "Hey, you ever wipe with cheap Wal-Mart toilet paper and one of you fangers breaks through the paper?" or "Did your priest ever give you milk that made you fall asleep really fast?" I hate that. Not the priest thing; the questions.
3. The other day I couldn't log in to an email account, so I clicked the help button. It said, "Are you have trouble remembering you password?" I clicked "yes". It said, "Your password has been sent to your account." If I could get into my account, I wouldn't need a !@$%&* password!

Two or three days ago after waiting in a drive thru, a young very pretty drive thru attendant handed my wife and I our order. She then asked, "Condiments?"; I heard "Condoms?"
My first shocked reaction was, "Chick-Fila gives out Condoms? Good Lord, Planned parenthood has an unreal marketing campaign!?"
(Me telling my wife, "I think I'm going to go get chicken fingered." My wife says, "Make sure you have your condiments.")
My second reaction was, "Why are you asking me in front of my wife?"
My third reaction was "What?!", but I could see my wife's face saying "Please don't say anything."

Last one, I promise; planes about to land.
The Nazi head flight attendant said, "Sir, you are going to check that bag." Briefcase. It's a @$%&* briefcase! Of course, me being a Southern Gentleman, said, "no I'm not!" She said matter of factly, "yes you are, and you're holding up people from boarding." I said "Fine.", and let her pick it up.
I did feel bad for her though.
You ever seen an old woman way past her prime wearing navy shorts mid-thigh? First of all, her Varicose veins were so bad it looked like she lost a paintball match at a BIC pen factory picnic or like she fell asleep while babysitting her great granddaughter while she drew "Pretty Pictures" on NaNa's legs. Or, and finally, like she's putting on Mascara somewhere unprecedented and it ran… away.
I think she's had plastic surgery. In fact, I'm pretty sure or at least I hope she's had plastic surgery. She's continued to have a really surprised look on her face the whole flight. Insert old movie tagline not originally found in "Mrs. Doubtfire", "I'm ready for my close up Mr. Deville."
Her teeth look "done" too. She either has caps on her teeth, or she was gargling with Chicklets the whole time. She asked me later, (Looking like Matt Dillon {the Douche Bag, not the Marshall from Gun Smoke}from there's something about Mary) "Would you like sssssomethink to drinkth?" I said "Um, yeah," (wiping the spit off my face) "can you give me a Diet Coke….. with my Freakin Head Phones in it?" They were in my "Checked Bag". Not really. I just said almost timidly, "Diet Coke". And of course she said, "Eyeth?". I said immediately like a bar tender in the Bay Area, "Yes. Pleaths".