Callin All Freaks Now

Well yet again I have a post on someone else's blog up. Go to Alice's blog for an awesome tale of Canadian ladies. Also read her blog since she's one of the people on the Interwebs that always has me laughing. If that's not enough someone said she was pretty. So you can use your imagination to what that means. If that's not enough then you can suck it.

Some of you may be asking, "RS27 how are you so popular and sexy that people keep asking you to guest post all the time and you crank out these ridiculously awesome posts?"

To that I would answer.

"Babydoll, it's not easy being me."

To that you would answer.

"But I wasn't finished, why are the posts on this blog not as good as the guest posts?"

Then I would kick you in the groin. I don't take criticism well.

I might as well start characterizing myself as a guest star at this point. Sort of like Ellen Travolta on Charles in Charge. You know, you would be watching this great episode where Buddy Lembeck got Charles all in trouble with the Powells because he brought some hot blondes over and they got caught by the grandfather. Then Charles would have to go down to the pizza parlor and talk to his mom about it and you would be all disappointed because those scenes were so lame and you just wanted them to get back to the house so you can maybe catch a glimpse of Nicole Eggert getting out of the shower or something.

Um, takebacks?

LEMBECK!

Maybe we should have went with the Nate Dogg comparison instead. Next time.

As has been noted on this blog before I absolutely hate flying. It's something about being 30,000 feet in the air and having no control about the possible outcome that makes me want to urinate, but not in the bathroom. I get really nervous on airplanes and am generally a bad flier. When my flight got cancelled on Saturday up to the Bay Area I had to actually make a stop on the way up there. To put this in perspective here is what that's equivalent to.

Stopping in Baltimore on a flight from NY to DC
Stopping in Bloomington, Indiana from Chicago to St. Louis.
Stopping at the urinal on the way to the sink in the bathroom.

Its ridiculous. So I re-book my flight and head on over to the gate to get ready to board a plane which is now stopping in Santa Barbara on my way to San Jose. Awesome. So we're ready to board on our plane and the dude says, "everyone can now board Flight whatever to Santa Barbara." Hmm, that's odd, why don't they call everyone by sections? So I head down to that little thing that connects the Airplane to the terminal and I'm walking around and I get to the end and...

THERE'S NO PLANE!

I look to my right and I see this puddle jumper and I'm already freaking the f--- out. I have to get on this thing? Why doesn't someone just make some paper wings and throw me off of a cliff? If I flap really hard maybe I can get some distance. I board the plane and look around at all the calm and collected people while I'm frantically holding onto my seat arm. Because if this plane goes down, me holding onto the seat arm will save me. Saw it on TV once.

I think it was Lost.

After a pretty uneventful ride to Santa Barbara which pretty much consisted of me creeping out the flight attendant because I was staring at how cute she was, I got out of the plane ready to go to the bathroom. Since I had an hour layover I had time to find a bathroom and unleash the fury. I run inside to an airport that was the size of my apartment. I couldn't believe it. There was one counter, about 50 seats and that's about it. They still had one of those boards where you manually had to put up the arriving and departing times and the flight numbers.

It felt very little league.

In fact on the back wall was an employee of the month plaque. That's right. A plaque. At an airport. Let me tell you something about being employee of the month at the airport. If you don't crash the plane, you win. Step right up and get your free cupcake! On the plaque were two names and the second name was crooked. Not only are we in a 1930s airport (were there planes in the 30s? No? Well that makes that analogy better) they couldn't get the names put on straight. If I was Megan Martinez I would be pissed.

"Excuse me, where's your bathroom?"
"We don't have one?"
"Excuse me?"
"Sorry we don't have one?"
" There's no bathroom in here at all?"
"Not for customers."
"That makes no sense. So if I have to sit here for an hour I have to hold it?"
"I'm sorry, yes you will."

At this point I would normally throw a fit. But considering my skin complexion, my bag and the fact I hadn't shaved in 5 days it was for the best that I kept it to myself. No need to get the Anti-Terrorism task force all up in my grill.

Again.

I wish Lembeck brought me some ladies.