Throwing stuff at the internet to see what sticks
Sunday, November 30, 2003 Reader Mail Slot, Episode XIX
One of my JournalCon peeps Dawnie kicks things off this month with, appropriately enough, a return to one of the popular topics from last month.
Given your recent run-in with the ladybugs, I thought you'd appreciate this.
And I did. I especially appreciated not being the one who had eaten the ladybug. But as I pointed out to Dawnie, as much as she didn’t want to eat a ladybug, the ladybug probably ended up having a worse day than Dawnie did.
I also appreciate Sharon, who was not only extremely helpful when I was researching Charlottesville, but who also shared this story after I stayed up all night making sure to get home:
I'm glad to see that I'm not the only one who struggles to get the hang of business trips. I made the mistake once of booking a redeye flight from Albuquerque to Charlottesville via the Atlanta airport. On Mother's Day. I thought I'd have the plane to myself, because who the hell else would be flying on a plane leaving Albuquerque at midnight on a Saturday night on Mother's Day weekend? As it turns out, an ENTIRE PLANE LOAD of Taiwanese tourists on a package tour that I REALLY hope they got a good rate on! The plane was a 737 with three seats on either side of the aisle, completely packed with small Asian people experiencing the wonders of a different time zone, except for me: a large, blonde farm girl from Virginia who stood at least a head taller than anyone else on the plane and felt even more conspicuous than usual sitting on the aisle seat so that I could stretch my legs out into the aisle, rather than ramming them into the back of the seat in front of me forcefully enough to cut off the circulation to my feet.
Let's just say I didn't get a lot of sleep on that flight. Although it would have been easier if the flight attendants hadn't insisted on rolling the drinks trolley up and down the aisle every 30 minutes. Ugh.
Forget the "One China" policy; Taiwan just needs to start celebrating Mother’s Day and everything else will fall into place.
Speaking of traveling through Cincinnati, Regan has been there—literally:
I'm voting the Cincy airport as one of the worst to be stuck at and hungry. I got trapped there on the way back from England. It's got like fifteen gates and two places to eat; I don't understand that. What makes it worse is that you got on a plane at 10 A.M. and flew for 10 hours and it's 3 P.M.?!?!?!, so most of the time you sit there thinking "what the hell?" After that, you need one of everything to keep you entertained.
I talked about how there was nothing to eat for breakfast in the terminal we transferred through on the way to Charlottesville. We transferred through a different terminal on the way home, and this one had a more complete array of dining options. But by that point, I was so exhausted that the very thought of facing an omelet was physically intimidating to me. Should have done it the other way around. But then if the airlines listened to me, a lot of things would be different. For instance, the airplane would pick me up at my house and taxi out to 50th Street, which would serve as a runway. Stupid airlines.
Finally, my sister DeBitch the younger (who is half of a company that does environmental assessments and is therefore in a position to know these things) clues me in on something about which I was more clueless than I realized:
Hey, just thought you would like to know that a level 5 hazmat suit won't do you any good when you're painting your room. There is no such thing.
Oh, man. That guy who sold me that hazmat suit on East Lake Street is in for such a tongue-lashing.
Personal protective equipment is rated from D to A, D meaning that you are wearing a shirt, A meaning a full-on space suit. I thought you did research before you printed this stuff. :)
Debitch the Younger (your hazwhopper trained sister)
I did do research on this. I totally saw it on The X-Files once.
On the plus side, I am now familiar with the term "hazwhopper." That makes up for a lot.
Today’s best search phrase: "'amy-wynn' ty –pastor." I’m sorry, but even if Amy Wynn Pastor marries Ty Pennington, that’s not going to be her name. posted by M. Giant 7:52 PM 0 comments