Where Have All of the Small Mute Asian Women Gone?

Dear Bloginistas,

It's Sunday evening and after spending 15 minutes or so in Boretrose this weekend, its back to usual and I'm here cooling it at MLI.

Nothing too spectacular happening. I had to drive the truck up today as Her Hotness didn't want to invest the 5 hours up and back to drive me. Its 5 hours with her driving but only 4 hours (or less) with me driving the 210 miles roundtrip (do the math for the average miles per hour). Luckily, there is nothing too solid to hit except cornfields in the summer and in the winter, its just mud, dirt and the occasional pig (note subtle Iowa reference).

Hey speaking of racing, the Oz GP is next week, so I will have a new (abeit a really cool one) distraction (not counting Her Hotness) to fixate on.

Somehow, saner heads prevailed and the F1 reqs this year while being all sweeping, still manage to keep the racing "real" and may actually shake up the order some. And the costs have been drastically cut. The days of $200 mil/yr team budgets are past and a mere $100mil per year dosh may still do the trick. Nice to see the circus will still be able to just scrimp by.

Special note to self: (woop, woop !!!!Travel Advisory!!!!)

Never, ever sit in seat 2B again on any NWA commuter flight.

For some reason NWA has designated seat 2A as the Shamu seat and they only allow people (sic) with a BMI of 40 or more to sit there. So the poor schmoe (ie me) who gets to sit next to the flying Hippopotamus gets: (in order):

1) Smushed
2) Sweated on
3) A body hair massage
4) (And if it’s feeding time) Mistaken for a baloney sandwich and gnawed on.

NWA thinks of the smallest details and being the ever perfect host, even has Seat 2A already prepped with a 6 foot long jumbo seatbelt lest Andre the Giant feel self conscious and have to ask embarrassingly for a seatbelt extension.

Least we forget that its always all about me, why do I also always seem to have sit next to (at least when they are not fat that is, and why can't I ever just sit next to a small Asian woman with good bathing habits, who can't speak English or better yet can't speak at all? - err sorry I digress) people with some kind of major body tick or Saint Vitus Dance (? - just google it).

Since I suffer from a mild OCD (Old Coot and Dopey - with a special nod to Doc and Sneezy) having to watch someone spaz or worse for the whole flight just drives me nuts (ier).

Thank God I'm perfect.....

While I'm at it, how come the dippoop (I cleaned this up so Her Hotness wouldn't faint) who uses his laptop in the seat next to me thinks its aok that every time he hits the "shift" key he can just jab his elbow into my ribs?

Deep breath. There. I think I'm done. I do feel better.

Wow, I actually made it through this whole Piece de Resistance without once mentioning the horse faced sleeveless wonders' jerkass husband. (For a change)

I must be seeing the light.

Here's hoping.

YHS