Ran-dums

Heard the Doritos inventor died today. I made a few jokes. Some funny; some corny. But after the jokes all I kept thinking about was if he liked the quirky/edgy Superbowl ads that Doritos did. isn't that weird? I wondered what he thought about them. Did he think they were too edgy? What would have been his idea of a great commercial? I wonder if Jay Leno will do something tonight that is touching about the Doritos maker or Doritos. I heard that when they cremated him that afterward the family then wiped his leftover dust on their shirt. Don't know if that's true, but I heard it.

I don't have a lot of time as I'm going out tonight to see Ralphie May. Great comedian. But I wanted to make sure I document a couple of things. I've already wasted too much time on Doritos so I'll attack the other thing with Jason Bourne like fervor.
I was on a plane last Thursday. About midway through the flight, I feel a wee bit of nausea. I asked the flight attendant if she could bring me some more water which she quickly does as I look like someone who's had their blood sucked out by Dracula (Pasty) only I was allergic to his spit (facial swelling).
Now I don't know if you know this, but on many of the regional flights they have quit carrying the Barf bags. My nausea has now elevated to a point that I care very much about this little fact. I am now negotiating internally about where to hurl. Will it "fit" in the seat back compartment? Can't I just vomit into my large mouth, swallow it and be fine? What about the lap of the old gentleman next to me? my laptop case? I do need a new one. but no. I look in the seat back compartment and lo and behold there is a barf bag. a puke parcel. a yawning in Technicolor receiver. you get the point.
I start to profusely sweat. like an Eskimo in a sauna. I can feel whatever I ate in the late 90's bubbling. My shirt is wet with perspiration. I can longer hold it. I have to puke aboard this 737.
I bring the bag to my face and hurl once. And it wasn't that kind of vomit that feels like you ate a bunch of stickers or grass burrs. It just tasted like sadness and despair.
all is better. Sweating stops.
I stay hovered above the bag. The old gentleman next to me starts to pat my back like I'm six. I'm sure if I would've had hair, he would have held it back for me. I think he would have said, "Now let it all out." or "it's going to be OK." like an old(er) Anthony Hopkins. What I definitely heard him say after that was, "Would you like for me to go get you a cold rag or something?"