You know what I love about airports? The incredibly small chance that I will see anyone here ever again----which authorizes some truly shameless behavior on my part. TSA wants me to take my shoes off? Fine. I’ll just walk around barefoot the whole time I’m here. I also feel like the stress of travel (and the fact that no one I know can see me eat) justifies some truly nasty nutritional choices. Hey, might as well give the TSA some extra cushion for the 4th Amendment violations, am I right? Add to that the fact that I’m stretched as emotionally thin as possible, and dress like a total slob so I can be comfortable on the plane. Fierce.
So if your typical airport experience involves wincing at a bloated girl in stained sweatpants and Sesame Street tshirt, walking around in mismatched fuzzy socks while crying and simultaneously eating a pretzel dog and one of those Starbucks drinks that doesn’t even have coffee in it for Christ’s sake, then Congratulations. You are probably one of those ‘commuter people’ who wear freakin’ ties and/or heels to the airport. Which, come to think of it, I’ve never seen in real life. That is, the ties/heels combo, the standard for fancy airline stewardesses, and possibly the most uncomfortable formal wear not involving whale bones or footbinding. You’re choking, and you can’t walk. I’m actually surprised more hijacking and airplane violence doesn’t come from the stewardesses. Especially when I’m on the flight, and I start to cry when you don’t have Diet Dr Pepper. Trust me, I’m not this unstable at a normal elevation.
P.S. Who are you, tiny-dog-in-a-bag-girl? Do they not make kennels small enough for your dog? Here’s a tip: if your dog needs a babysitter/sweater/daily suppositories, get a real dog. Don’t they euthanize real dogs when they get to the point where they need that kind of care, just to preserve their dignity? And if you’re going to bring your portable squeaking shit machine, please sedate the damn thing while I have to sit next to it.
My sunny outlook on travel has not prevented me from flying frequently cross-country, due to my professional/family situation, but unfortunately it hasn’t improved much the more I have to do it.
I can only imagine if I were the person who wrote travel articles, you’d pull the euphemistically named airline magazine (like “Hemispheres,” or “Adventure,” instead of something descriptive like “TrytoForgetThatYou’reSpendingHundredsforthePossibilityYouMayGoCrashingDowninFlames”) and instead of spas you can't afford or celebrity interviews with people you haven't heard of, the articles would be shit like:
“Airsickness and Making Friends: Who to Ask to Hold the Bag While You Vomit”
“Why You Just Might Want to Check Those Arabic Textbooks”
“Crying on Public Transportation: How to Make Sure No One Calls the Police”
“Nobody Take the Brown Dramamine!: Navigating Chicago O’Hare While Legally High Out of Your Mind”
“How to Rebuff the ‘Bible Lady’ Without Inspiring an Impromptu Exorcism”
“How to Slip Benadryl to Other People’s Children Surreptitiously”
Then again, if I wrote travel articles, no one who read them would ever go anywhere ever again.
“You may have heard rave reviews of the nightlife and fabulous shopping opportunities available in Midtown Manhattan. If I drank as much Sambuca as those hairspray-huffing, iBanker-in-training, Jersey Shore-lookin’ douchebags, I’d probably spend all my time in Midtown, too, so I could avoid regular people from NJ with lanterns and pitchforks trying to hunt down Snooki/defend their good name...”
Finally, once I have arrived (like right now), I totally have to milk the “I just travelled all day” excuse to continue eating and acting like a slob. Off to watch garbage television in my sweat pants.
Thursday, March 10, 2011
Wednesday, February 23, 2011
Recreational Strep Throat
So here is my horoscope for the day:
"Today is fantastic for tuning in to your inner self, Taurus. You will have a level, grounded mind from which to make conscious evaluations of your emotional state. Trust your instincts and make realistic plans for the future. You're especially disciplined today, and you have a keen sense of what your goals and objectives are. Use this grounded energy to get things done."
This is very funny, you see, because I still have strep throat (see last blog) and a moderately high fever, so the idea of me "getting things done" is hilarious. I mean, come on, I'm so out of it I'm actually reading my horoscope. Clearly, my judgment is a bit fever-addled.
Instead of getting things done today, I have been watching Yogi Bear cartoons. Why?:
I like watching Yogi Bear cartoons when I'm sad or sick or feeling sorry for myself, because it reminds me of how when I was very small my Mom used to do this Yogi Bear impression to make us laugh when we were upset. She'd go: "Heeeeeeeeey, BooBoo!"
Recently, Mom told me that she stopped calling us "BooBoo" eventually, because she "didn't want any of you to think you might be a mistake (boo-boo)." Well, she did have four of us before turning 24. And I have it on good authority (a mistaken admission on my Mom's part) that I was conceived when my parents were using two (2!) forms of birth control! I might not be a boo-boo, but I was certainly not planned in the sense that you can plan an event that you choose to happen, like a wedding or a dinner party. More likely, I was planned for like one "plans for" a hurricane or Charlie Sheen coming to your kegger: taping up the windows and designating one bathtub for your kids, and another for vomit. (Little known fact: hurricanes involve lots of vomit. Floridians party haaaaaaard.)
Anyway, I am also watching Yogi Bear cartoons because when you're fever-addled, watching cartoons is much more fun. The plot lines take on much more dramatic significance, and you start thinking about character development and encoded political meanings. Snaggle Puss, for example. I mean, obviously he's a cat and a theater queen, but why is it always "Exit, Stage Left"? I think that there's a very disturbing message there about the Gay Agenda co-opting the New Left in the wake of the Cold War. Or maybe it's something about the Culture Wars being political theater. See what I did there? Yes, clearly, having a fever makes me a genius.
Not only am I fever-addled enough to read my horoscope, I'm fever-addled enough to misread my horoscope. That first line, for example, about "tuning in to your inner self." I totally read that as "turning into your inner self." Which still sort of works, if you read that as meaning that you should orient your thoughts inward or something. But of course I thought about transforming myself into my "inner self." Not to start "outwardly acting my id," or something, because, again, that is how a rational adult would have interpreted that statement. I read it as turning into my inside self. Like my organs and things. Like the little skeleton guy on Beetlejuice?
Yeah, you remember that guy. His name was like Sparky or something. And he was like, "oh, I don't have skin, but I still have a moustache. Also, clothes, even though aside from the moustache, my sex organs and secondary sexual characteristics are long gone." Heeeheehee. I just imagined him saying in that ridiculous French accent "I maih not 'ave secondahry seccsual chahractehressteecs. But I cahn steel BOHNE yew!"
Now that I've ruined a cherished childhood memory, I need Tylenol and sleep. Obviously.
"Today is fantastic for tuning in to your inner self, Taurus. You will have a level, grounded mind from which to make conscious evaluations of your emotional state. Trust your instincts and make realistic plans for the future. You're especially disciplined today, and you have a keen sense of what your goals and objectives are. Use this grounded energy to get things done."
This is very funny, you see, because I still have strep throat (see last blog) and a moderately high fever, so the idea of me "getting things done" is hilarious. I mean, come on, I'm so out of it I'm actually reading my horoscope. Clearly, my judgment is a bit fever-addled.
Instead of getting things done today, I have been watching Yogi Bear cartoons. Why?:
I like watching Yogi Bear cartoons when I'm sad or sick or feeling sorry for myself, because it reminds me of how when I was very small my Mom used to do this Yogi Bear impression to make us laugh when we were upset. She'd go: "Heeeeeeeeey, BooBoo!"
Recently, Mom told me that she stopped calling us "BooBoo" eventually, because she "didn't want any of you to think you might be a mistake (boo-boo)." Well, she did have four of us before turning 24. And I have it on good authority (a mistaken admission on my Mom's part) that I was conceived when my parents were using two (2!) forms of birth control! I might not be a boo-boo, but I was certainly not planned in the sense that you can plan an event that you choose to happen, like a wedding or a dinner party. More likely, I was planned for like one "plans for" a hurricane or Charlie Sheen coming to your kegger: taping up the windows and designating one bathtub for your kids, and another for vomit. (Little known fact: hurricanes involve lots of vomit. Floridians party haaaaaaard.)
Anyway, I am also watching Yogi Bear cartoons because when you're fever-addled, watching cartoons is much more fun. The plot lines take on much more dramatic significance, and you start thinking about character development and encoded political meanings. Snaggle Puss, for example. I mean, obviously he's a cat and a theater queen, but why is it always "Exit, Stage Left"? I think that there's a very disturbing message there about the Gay Agenda co-opting the New Left in the wake of the Cold War. Or maybe it's something about the Culture Wars being political theater. See what I did there? Yes, clearly, having a fever makes me a genius.
Not only am I fever-addled enough to read my horoscope, I'm fever-addled enough to misread my horoscope. That first line, for example, about "tuning in to your inner self." I totally read that as "turning into your inner self." Which still sort of works, if you read that as meaning that you should orient your thoughts inward or something. But of course I thought about transforming myself into my "inner self." Not to start "outwardly acting my id," or something, because, again, that is how a rational adult would have interpreted that statement. I read it as turning into my inside self. Like my organs and things. Like the little skeleton guy on Beetlejuice?
Yeah, you remember that guy. His name was like Sparky or something. And he was like, "oh, I don't have skin, but I still have a moustache. Also, clothes, even though aside from the moustache, my sex organs and secondary sexual characteristics are long gone." Heeeheehee. I just imagined him saying in that ridiculous French accent "I maih not 'ave secondahry seccsual chahractehressteecs. But I cahn steel BOHNE yew!"
Now that I've ruined a cherished childhood memory, I need Tylenol and sleep. Obviously.
Tuesday, February 22, 2011
TODAY'S BRILLIANT DISCOVERIES IN MEDICAL SCIENCE:
TODAY'S BRILLIANT DISCOVERIES IN MEDICAL SCIENCE:
Things that don't cure strep throat:
1. "Walking it off"
2. Beer
3. Crying in the shower
4. Thai curry
Things that actually, in fact, make strep throat feel worse:
1. "Walking it off"
2. Beer
3. Crying
4. Thai curry
5. Living
Also, when a catty gay male nurse swabs your throat for a strep test, and chides you for your lack of a gag reflex in a way that implies that you are bad at oral sex, you should supress your urge to laugh. Because you will probably throw up.
Also, if a hot med student comes to give you the (positive) result of your strep test, you should not think about how hot he is. Because you will probably start blushing, and he might think that something even worse is wrong with you. Like scarlet fever.
Strep throat, however conducive to smart-alecky comments, comes with a high fever and is thus a bad time for academic writing. Unless you want to come up with brilliant insights like: "Colonialism is bad. Cookies, however, are very delicious."
Things that don't cure strep throat:
1. "Walking it off"
2. Beer
3. Crying in the shower
4. Thai curry
Things that actually, in fact, make strep throat feel worse:
1. "Walking it off"
2. Beer
3. Crying
4. Thai curry
5. Living
Also, when a catty gay male nurse swabs your throat for a strep test, and chides you for your lack of a gag reflex in a way that implies that you are bad at oral sex, you should supress your urge to laugh. Because you will probably throw up.
Also, if a hot med student comes to give you the (positive) result of your strep test, you should not think about how hot he is. Because you will probably start blushing, and he might think that something even worse is wrong with you. Like scarlet fever.
Strep throat, however conducive to smart-alecky comments, comes with a high fever and is thus a bad time for academic writing. Unless you want to come up with brilliant insights like: "Colonialism is bad. Cookies, however, are very delicious."
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