1. Wednesday, November 23, 2005

    its two am here in chicago 

    and for some reason im tired. i shouldnt be. i slept on the plane, something i love to do, i didnt even watch the diane lane + john cusack romantic comedy, in fact i even read a few chapters of Buzzmarketing which mc brown has been hyping since ive started at buzznet.

    and i listened to howard stern on my ipod, and of course the sound of one hand clapping.

    i fucked around in LA procrastinating so much that i nearly didnt make it on the plane.

    if you havent flown lately they have these automatic machines where you slide your credit card and its supposed to do all the necessary things to check your ass in. of course they still have people in blazers to help you out, but if you check in with fewer than 45 minutes before takeoff they freak you out and say, your bag probably wont get on the plane and they might not even let you on.


    cuz they have to check your bag out.

    why dont you check it out right here?

    thats not what we do here, we check you in here.

    and if you think i have snappy comebacks in my comments, you should see what im capable of when i see that my country is on its knees thanks to a terrorist act four freaking years ago by dudes who checked in on time, by dudes who werent wearing a cubs hat, by dudes who didnt have a suitcase filled with autographed copies of Stiff for the local libraries here in the windy, nor dvds of porn and mp3s.

    if it takes you more than 45 minutes to see that theres explosives in my bag then we’re in for some trouble, america.

    and on top of that — those fuckers didnt even use explosives! they used box cutters.


    but i just bit my lip and went to the xray portion of the obstacle course and watched a lady break down her baby stoller one-handed (the other hand held her frigging baby) as her husband sat on a chair with his shoes off getting the wand-treatment.

    and four of us waited for this woman to get everything out of the stroller including the hidden 3 yr old who didnt know wtf was happening.

    excuse me, never in the history of terrorism has a blonde haired family with a 4 month old and a 3 yr old terrorized an airplane, other than with cries and screams and whines and mommymommymommy at 45k feet.

    let the soccermom and the middle manager through!

    but i took a deep breath and thought about miniskirted teenagers who waited for me back in hollywood if i missed the flight, because the automated check in machine told me that there were no more flights if i couldnt get on this one. so i chilled and watched the dramadey and took a mental note that if i was ever blessed with doe-eyed little angels no way would i allow my wifey to have to break down her shit one handed while holding my prodgeny.

    in fact no airplane flights during the holidays for my family. clark griswold style minivan action until the kids are at least in school. an airplane is no place for beasts who cry. not because theres something defective with the childrens, but because theres far too much to cry about.

    top of the list being theres no food on these flights. even on United. or Ted as i rode today.

    one tiny bag of pretzels is what we got.

    heres my advice for the airline industry: feed us and make either big tobacco or the pharmecutical industry pay for it. if i got a nice meal that had a huge ad for Marlboro Country on the alumnium foil id be totally cool with it.

    since Mobil/Exxon made so much frickin profit last quater – let those motherfuckers put a huge ad on the napkins or on the cans of pop that they hand out. put a Shell gas pump on the dish that you serve me some chicken cordon bleu. you have a captive starving audience flying halfway across this great land of ours. we already hate you oil profiteerers and big tobbacky – feed us and we’ll call it even.

    and people are all, you should pack a sandwich. we were three across all the way to the back row. anyone with a sandwhich got farted on. i didnt want to be the object of anyones wrath or jealousy. i ate my nine pretzels like everyone else and fell asleep dreaming of a real chicago polish sausage

    which i got several hours later at 10pm at a nice little hut called McDog’s in the northwest suburbs.

    with a grilled skin so perfectly crispy i knew i was back home.

    and all was well.

    tomorrow i will go to radio shack, to get my momma wifi for her house after i demand that sbc yahoo hook her up with dsl immediately.

    this dialup business is for the birds.

    jay + pitt + dave the pa + how you should start a blog