Monthly Archives: April 2012

The Airplane Challenge

At some point or another we have all spent time traveling from place to place via airplane. The joyous hours of airport monotony are spent: going through security, being stuck behind women who decide to wear all the metal jewelry they own and having to remove our shoes, coats, electronics, sweatshirts, belts etc. Whenever they ask me to take off my sweatshirt I always tell them I’m not wearing anything underneath it… so suck on that.

When I fly I tend to pack an hour or less before my flight and usually I am somewhat intoxicated when I begin my packing endeavor. This usually ends up with me wearing the same sweatshirt for the duration of my trips. I am also a repeat offender of forgetting to wear socks on the day of travel, leaving me barefoot to tip toe through the cesspool of a security line, like I am walking on hot coals. Then I have to wait for the wanna be Tina Turner in front of me to walk back and forth through the metal detector as she slowly removes the bling suit of armor she decided to wear to the non existent delta fashion show.

I cannot for the life of me understand how women can wear stilettos to the airport. My outfit of choice usually includes sweatpants, clogs, Uggboots or some other hideously comfortable shoe. Except for crocs. FOR THE LOVE OF GOD! NO ONE SHOULD EVER WEAR CROCS!! I don’t care how comfortable they are, you still look like an idiot. If I’m meeting someone I would like to look sexy for, I’ll put some damn make up on when I reach my final destination, maybe.

Now onto finding your departing gate. After walking past every fast food stand, cinnabon city, electronics r’us and sam adams tribute to whatever the fuck city you’re in, you finally reach your gate. You look around for an open seat, avoiding the weird looking foreign dude and lady with 12 screaming babies until you find a seat to stake claim and pray that you don’t have to sit next to any of the fat, wendy’s munching, screaming babies currently in your general vicinity on the airplane. And then you wait for your “zone” to be called. Every airline except for South West are a bunch of retards. You have a ticket, you get on the plane, you pick a fuckin’ seat. BOOM! Stop making me feel worthless because I’m in zone 4.

Then there are a plethora of seating situations you may encounter with your “row mates” Some of my favorites include, the arm rest hogger, the ‘i love to hear myself talk about my kids, my cats, politics and whatever else I am currently observing’ lady or gentleman, the over the shoulder reader of whatever book you’re reading or content your looking at on your laptop, the post break-up sobber, the medicated open mouth breathing sleeping zombie, the sleep apnea king and finally the chronic ‘excuse me I need to get up and stretch my legs/use the bathroom guy.’

While all of these glorious people and situations are a standard part of air travel there is one which is the greatest and most satisfying of them all. Being able to fart as loud and as often as you want without anyone hearing or knowing it was you. So the next time you board an airplane, take all the reoccurring annoying travel incidents in stride, sit back, relax and fart away.

The Christmas Eve Pickle

Tradition is a part of all of our lives, whether we like it or not.

This is why therapists are wealthy. And since I can’t turn my family’s quirks into a country song, I’ve decided to put some of mine down in writing, so here it goes.

Christian traditions are a very interesting thing. We celebrate holidays based on: breaking bread with native americans, the birth of jesus, jesus rising from the dead etc… and then we spend these holidays engorging ourselves with people we can’t stand to be around, cutting down trees and then placing them in our homes for a month, spending the night as children in anticipation of a fat bearded old man falling down our chimney, giving us presents and eating all of our cookies and a giant bunny leaving pencils and marshmallow treats at our front doors. And so I ask you, ARE WE ON CRACK?

While these are all traditions most of us have in common (unless you’re jewish), my family had one that until recently I thought everyone shared… the christmas eve pickle.

I moved to New Hampshire from Atlanta when I was 5 years old and returned to Georgia every December to spend Christmas time with my extended family. This was always something that I looked forward to because it meant escaping from the frigid New England winters for a week, watching my grandmas old recordings of Diana Ross and The Supremes and getting the chance to spend time with my family, oh yeah and PRESENTS! I have always been competitive by nature, and I think that has a lot to do with my families yearly christmas tradition between my sister and I.

The Christmas eve tradition in my family was to hide a green ornament shaped as a pickle within the christmas tree and then bring my sister and I back into the room to search for the pickle. My family would call us into the room and we would be unleashed on the unsuspecting tree like a pack of wolves. It was a miracle neither of us ever knocked the tree over. Whoever found the pickle first got to open an awesome present, and whoever lost got to open a present that usually sucked.

Presents rock, theres no doubt about that. and any reason to open a present is fine by me. But it was weird for me to find out that everyone else didn’t do the same thing as my family on christmas eve. I’m sure the christmas eve pickle is part of some kind of observed tradition, but if it’s a religious one, I don’t really want to know.

Crazy or not, I miss spending the holidays with my family. As we get older this seems to happen less and less. Maybe when I have a family of my own I’ll make up my own version of ‘the christmas eve pickle.’ But hopefully I have plenty of time to decide just what that tradition will be.

And So It Begins

After a few years of moving from place to place, I finally have all of my belongings in one location. I just looked through a bunch of boxes that have been sitting in storage collecting dust for a while. Some of the gems that I found within the card board include: The pastel drawing I did in the dark the first time I drank the electric kool-aid, all of the Spice Girl Barbie dolls (in their original boxes), the pink elephant stuffed animal my mom got me in Thailand, A Juicy wallet still in the box (SCORE/ re-gift (shh!), hundred of CD’s (originals and mix’s), Romy and Michele’s High School Reunion and some 8 journals from here there and everywhere. I’ve always been a fan of writing things down and I guess finding all of my notebooks is the reason I decided to start this blog.
It took me a while to figure out what I wanted to be when I grew up, but what’s growing up? That is a grand realization that seems to change faster than it is realized. I was always a creative little biddy who absorbed music and pop culture like a sponge. I guess some things never change. Both of my parents are very gifted creatively, so I think it was only natural that I would end up going down that road. I’ve been searching for the way out of my own head for as long as I can remember, an impossible journey that led me to… writing! and my future career as a copywriter.
This blog is my attempt to share my thoughts, ideas, influences and inspirations. Mostly though, this is another way for me to get things out of my mind and out into the world, a public form of catharsis. It doesn’t matter to me if anyone ever reads what I write here.  All that really matters, is that I write.