LAX Dreamin

Dear Bloginistas,

Flying into Los Angeles, bringing in a couple of keys. Don't check my bags if you please Mister Customs Maaann... Good grief I'm singing a 60's Arlo Guthrie song!

Why the delirium? Because my new mission impossible (abet in a supporting role) is in Burbank CA. So now I get to fly to a whole new mega city (abet with palm trees) and do what I do best to earn the dosh that keeps me in diet Vault and tangerine orange juice, and, oh yeah, a place to keep the frig, plus heat.

LAXers seem about as muttley a bunch as EWRers except with a tan and a bit of the 'tude. No doubt brought on by the superiority they feel from having to pay for living in a $1.5 million shotgun house and getting to inch along in their daily 90 minute three mile commute. If it were me, I'd try to milk it for all it was worth too.

I guess with all the perks of living in Iowa (pigs, corn, no airports, no paved roads, no shopping, Slipknot(?), pigs and corn) I've been tainted.

Hey speaking of refrigerators, this winter has been just sweet. I never realized that at minus 12 degrees F even I, rather than go outside (in sympathy with the dogs Hans and Bell), would just as soon crap on the living room rug in protest.

Since I'm flying again on Sundays one of my rituals is to read the Sunday New York Times.

Even though it is a commie bastard left wing piece of crap(note: reoccuring theme), I do find the writing uplifting.

For example, in this week’s NYT Magazine was an interesting waste of ink article on an experiment by some kind of female sociologist who took a group of straight men, straight women, gay men and gay women and showed them films of baboons having sex (honest) to see what would happen.

Since this was the literary equivalent of a traffic accident (and it had the word sex in it) I had to keep reading on. Well, (pant, pant) to everyone's surprise, after getting them all wired up with electrodes in places best left to your imagination, the straight men and women all felt "sick", while the other "gender" to no ones surprise..., well actually this is where I felt sick and stopped reading.

For only 5 bucks you can't beat this kind of reading enjoyment.

The only thing that could top this little tidbit would be if this "project" was another federally funded executive order penned by Barky.

Hey, why I'm speaking of flying, why is it that the moron sitting in front of you (in steerage/last class err coach) always thinks it is aok to put his seat back in your face? Retardo must think that the 2 inches of space he's shoehorned into doesn't apply to the poor sap(i.e. me) behind him.

Luckily, revenge is sweet. I conveniently turn my air nozzle full blast at his head all the while rhythmically tapping my knee into the back of El Reclino's seat. To top off his continued flying comfort, I also wrinkle my NY Times by his head every 15 seconds or so. Who says its 5 bucks wasted? This takes commitment, but for the 3 hour and 51 minute flight, I'm up for it.

With some feeling still left in my legs, and still feeling the love, and with a little good karma (dude), maybe I'll see some "stars" like Micky Dolenz while I'm out here. Here's hoping and changing (leg position).

YHS