Monday, May 24, 2010

I want to eat some cat food...

OK, that title may be the PMS talking, but after seeing this commercial for the first time, I am seriously contemplating trying this,rather than midol, mixed drinks, and scream therapy to combat mood swings.

Watch here:

I saw this today and thought, what is this? Kitty Crack? The can opens and the cat jumps through some hallucinogenic portal to a land of dancing turkeys and chickens? I mean really, does no one else think this is like watching a kitty acid trip? I think they should change the background music to some Amy Whinehouse... ok, that was a little joke. tiny. teeny. itsy bitsy.

It did make me wonder though... at times, Micah has asked how my fatherless and well, weird upbringing affected me. Not too much I usually answer. I don't recall feeling especially oppressed. Now, now I remember eating (and getting scolded for) the Friskies as a small child and have to wonder... maybe I wasn't so tough and resilient... maybe I was just trippin' through the years on Kitty Food... ?

Wednesday, May 19, 2010

Why I can never work in the airline industry...

Well, aside from the number one reason, that being the intense desire to vomit at some point on almost every flight I have ever taken, these are some other reasons I cannot, nay, should not work in the airline industry...
I discovered these as I flew last week to Buffalo, NY. My hometown. Yes, that Buffalo... snow, chicken wings, and well, snow. That is what we are famous for. I kid you not, that whilst waiting for my mom in the airport, the smell of chicken wings was so strong that I was salivating a bit. But, I digress... back to the reasons for my career avoidance:

1. I could never ask someone who just paid the princely sum airline tickets now cost to then, pay an additional $25 for a checked bag. There is no way to even pack shampoo, gels, perfumes, etc. in a carry-on, thanks to the "3 oz" rule. So, what are we really charging for here? Am I being penalized because I like to take 12 pairs of underwear, four pairs of shoes, and 2 different, but both very necessary cans of hairspray on a four day trip? I might sue, it is a bias against women. Well, women and metro-sexual men.

2. I do not understand the constant warnings about this "stranger with a package". Where is this stranger and who has ever taken a package from them and boarded a plane with it? Really? Maybe I just put out the vibe as I read and sip ginger ale before a flight that I, I will not be duped by this stranger-package scheme. Do they also flash their headlights as a gang sign, and send me money if I forward e-mails for them?

3. Why do people sit in the waiting area yapping so brutally loud on their phones? Really, you have a whole airport you can walk around. I am reading. I don't care about your out of office phone message status or your boyfriend's new car. There is also this new and glorious invention with phones, it is called texting.

4. I cannot abide with blue polyester pants. Ever.

5. At some point, I would have to tell the loud business man who makes sure he boards before the wheel chair bound, small children, and nuns, "Forget it pal, you can get on last."

6. About the boarding lines... Why people, why the mad rush? Zone assignments are there for a reason. Again, I would stand at the gate and be hostile, "Oh yeah? Can you read this ticket? It says row 12. ROW 12. I clearly said we are boarding ROW 24 and HIGHER. Back of the line sucker." Then, I would not call row 12 until the bitter end. "Now boarding rows 10, 11, and 13. Oh yeah, 10, 11, and 13. Sorry row 12, you can wait courtesy of the line budger back there."

7. I would not be able to hand people that mini cup of soda-pop and keep the rest of the can. Seriously, after the ticket price and the bag charge, now I am expected to hold back on a 50cent can of soda? I would have to be generous and sneak people all of it... "Shhh, here you enjoy ALL 12 oz. but don't tell my boss." wink wink.

8. Bathrooms. I think if you have read this blog for any significant amount of time, you know I am not a fan of public restrooms. The bathrooms on planes are a whole other realm of fearsome loathing, and I will avoid them to the point that my bladder has almost burst. It is also why I carry pocket size lysol. (take that carry on rules... lysol weighs in at a perfect 1 oz.) I once had to spray the bathroom door down repeatedly with mine, as I was given the worst seat on a plane ever... the one right next to the bathroom. It stunk. Bad.

9. I would seat people in a very biased fashion.
*You, line budger, you now get the seat by the commode. Then I would pass out free sauer kraut to everyone.
*You, weak looking bald guy? You are NOT getting the emergency exit aisle. Sorry, we are giving that to gym rat guy in the zubaz pants and tank top.
*Lady with the hacking cough? You are sitting on a different flight. Bye Bye now.
*Cell phone yapper? Yeah, we are seating you right next to that screaming baby.
*First class snob? Hmmm... oops, we cannot find you in the computer. Enjoy coach.
*Young couple politely waiting? We just had an opening in first class, would you like a free upgrade?

Yeah, airline service is clearly not my industry...
Here are some photos... despite bloggers insane photo posting ways. There are no scrappy things to share because they are on an old post that I never published. To transfer them here would be sheer madness... or patience. Whatever. This is all for today, some of my favorite recent photos. :)

This is from the "My wife made me do this" photo shoot. Tri-Pod, backyard, disgruntled husband. The angst made for a good photo no?

An inch worm. Surprisingly harder to shoot than one would think. It kept moving. Alot. I thought about squishing it and then taking the photo, my inner hippie won out and the worm lived.

I like this one. Don't know why, but I do. Make a wish and all I guess...

Alden in the sunshine. SOOC. (that means Straight Out Of the Camera. As in, unedited. I just learned that term. I like it.)

Oh, the iPhone Hipstimatic App. I bought it a while back for Micah's IP. I love it. It makes me want an IP even more. Not enough to pay out a contract on my blackberry, but the envy is there, I admit it. For now I steal his at every chance and snap pictures.