Seattle redneck fun

What, didn't know there were redneck bars in Seattle?

Thought they were relegated to South Cackalacky?

Nope.

I hung out tonight at a bar called the Bullpen, within spittin' distance from the SeaTac airport.

But honestly, it was a blast. I drank some shots, smoked some Marlboro Reds (I had to bum) and sang some good old-fashioned karaoke.. "Proud Mary," the Tina Turner version, to be specific.

I ended up meeting this Hawaiian male stripper named Kai on his first date with a girl who'd met him at his place of employment on her birthday last weekend. The evening culminated with him breathily requesting to sleep with me after we danced together, while she glowered in the background. Whoops. He smelled great, though. Said it was Hugo Boss. He even indicated a threesome would be welcome when I mentioned I was sharing a hotel room with my friend Molly. It sounded like fun, esp. when he got into the kinky details of what he intended to do with me, but good sense prevailed and I let him go home with his sullen mistress.

All's well that end's well. He didn't let me escape without his phone number, however.

Doesn't anyone have anything to say?!?

Okay, you people. I know someone reads this. Put a fucking comment on here once in awhile! When I start feeling like I'm talking to myself, I get all twitchy and people around me get scared.

oh, and by the way..

News in the soap opera that is my household:

I tried to call Alice (my cuckolded roommate) in an attempt to learn the latest gossip / offer some moral support, but she didn't answer. However, her voicemail message went something like this: "Hi, this is Alice, I'm not here, leave me a message! Oh, and if this is Bob, don't bother!"

I'm proud of Alice. It sounds like she's doing well.

Whew!

I just slept for sixteen hours. Yup. Such is the glamourous life of an international flight attendant. I'm in Santa Monica, I could be shopping, sunning, and stalking celebrities but instead I'm behaving like a narcoleptic stasibasiphobic (it's real! look it up).

I feel like freaking Rip van Winkle. Who knows what dire truths turning on the TV and watching CNN may bring? To what lamentable heights gas prices have risen? What dastardly plans hath our smirking President wrought? How little flesh is left on the bones of Lindsay Lohan?

So overwhelming, it just makes a person want..to..just....sleep...mm, of course...

..sleep...

Seriously, maybe *they* are drugging me. It wouldn't be the first time!

Typhoon madness

So we're supposed to commercial to Japan tomorrow, only there's a typhoon currently threatening Tokyo. The general consensus is that it would be fine to stay here in Osan and wait it out because:

1) We don't want to get stuck there.
2) If we go, we have to get up at like 4:30 which just isn't cool.
3) There's lots more to do here than in Tachikawa, where we stay.
4) Japan tends to be more expensive and we're cheap bastards.

Most of you out there who know me also know that I lived in Japan for four years as a kid, and subsequently weathered many a typhoon (once in a sailboat!). I've also been through a couple hurricanes in Charleston. So worry not, readers, whatever happens - I have no fear! But I don't want to get up early.

Cat-fight!

I almost got into a fight with a Russian whore tonight.

Seriously.

I tend to be a happy drunk, everyone's friend and all, until someone shows aggression toward me or my friends and then I get sort of feisty.

Two of my friends, one from Phoenix, one from Glasgow, and I had been drinking at Korean bars all night and were loitering in front of some all-night fast food place where they put cabbage and fried eggs on the burgers, and this crazy Russian prostitute thought we were cutting in line ahead of her. She starting cursing my friend Nina (the Scottish one) out in Russian, and Nina cursed her out in Arabic.

The whole situation threatened to escalate when I and my other friend, Molly, started edging toward her, admittedly, just to piss her off and potentially pick a fight. Eventually, though, after several lengthy death-stares, she grabbed her cheeseburger and flounced off into an alleyway.

It may seem weird for a Russian girl to prostitute herself in Korea (where locals have seemingly already glutted the market), but apparently it's just the proximity to a U.S. military base that draws them.

You learn something new every day, don't ya?

Holy explosive drama, Batman!

Wow.

My household has experienced an unforeseen upheaval literally overnight.

How can I discuss this delicately? My one roommate took the other's car and fucked some skank in the back of it. The really bad part? The two roommates are a couple. We'll just refer to them henceforth as Bob and Alice.

Well, poor Alice is wandering around disinfecting the house (and hopefully the backseat of her car) in a state of watery, wide-eyed shock because they'd been together for like, four years. Her parents let them live together cheaply in their house, doing Bob a huge favor for the past year. And he's left his broken-down old Saab in the driveway for months!!

So we'll all just take a moment now and think of what a completefuckingasshole Bob is.

I always sort of liked him, he's a poli-sci major and very left-wing. But this whole incident has brought to the surface some latent hatred I apparently had for him, lurking beneath the surface. Okay, maybe hatred is a strong word, but he always got on my nerves and now I can detest him openly.

You always have to wonder when someone does something drastically out of character.

I feel guilty now - A), for writing all about this in my blog (I can't help it!), and B) for having to leave town early tomorrow morning while Alice is in such a state.

Anyway, it's time to take Alice to the beach for a little distraction. At least, she said, she gets custody of the pets.

Spaghetti-tastic!

So, I used to cook.

Hell, I used to manage a kitchen. I worked back-of-house for a certain beachfront restaurant for six hot, greasy, smelly, miserable years. Every college weekend found me churning out food sunup to sundown like an automaton.

The sad thing is, after peeling thousands of pounds of shrimp, grilling burger after burger, sauteeing so many onions, making soups in 10-gallon increments, and all the thawing, battering, scraping, dicing, mixing, measuring, etc, etc., somewhere in there, I lost my love of cooking.

Now that I've been out of the restaurant biz for a year (hooray!), ever so timidly, here comes creeping back my desire to take up cooking again.

Seeing as I spend approximately two-thirds of my time travelling, I'm forced to eat out most of the time. I think the idea of preparing food for myself is becoming somewhat of a novelty.

There's also the whole issue of cooking for one person. It just seems like a lot of effort to spend half an hour in the kitchen (more including dishwashing time) or longer just to feed myself.

Oh well. The whole point is, I'm slowly simmering a huge pot of spaghetti sauce right now and it's all pretty exciting right now. The anticipation. Even the mincing of the fresh basil was fun. Even washing the dishes was somehow satisfying.

Okay, I may be reaching there.

Does this make sense to you?

Just a thought - why is it that supposedly non-child-friendly scripted TV shows are relegated to late-night while more disturbing reality-based content is available during daytime?

For instance.

The daytime talk shows that cover molestation, rape, marital infidelity, incest, murder, sex addiction, gambling, drugs, alcoholism, illegitimate parenting, etc. chronicle the lives of real people struggling with these issues, a truly mind-warping slice of the American people. Most are victims looking for some sort of resolution by telling their story to a nationwide audience, and also hope to educate the public about their experiences, which I can't say is a bad thing.

But the thing is, I'd rather my kid watch Conan O'Brien or Jay Leno (and not get the jokes anyway) than be exposed to the vicious truths of life at an early age. Not to say I don't want them to be educated, but I'd like that burden to fall on my (and my spouse's) shoulders, not network TV, as their primary goal is to make a buck based on entertainment value anyway.

Also, soap operas may not show explicit sex scenes, but the implication is there.

Let me just clarify: I'm very First Amendment oriented, I don't believe that any of the stuff I've mentioned should be censored. I just question the system that is in place - to a layman not acquainted with media law, the justification for how TV programs are rated seems arbitrary.

I mean, hey. I used to watch Johnny Carson and Dallas at night during the 80's, and I truly believe it was the Oprah and Phil Donahue that screwed me up.

Yoga hurts.

I have this friend who teaches beginner yoga in Mount Pleasant, so I sporadically attend her class whenever I'm in town. I guess I never gave yoga the proper measure of respect before trying it, but it seriously hurts like a bitch! I mean, the next day mainly, not so much during the actual exercises. The good thing though, is I can sort of take what I learn with me while I'm travelling.

Saturday night

So, spur-of-the-moment, I ended up driving three hours away to have dinner with some of my extended family last night. Let me just say that as much as I travel, it is such a relief sometimes to be around people you essentially belong to. Family, they're great. They make room, you know? Wherever, whenever you come across them in life, they see you and they slide over and say, Sit down. Not always literally, but you get what I mean.

The only downside is you leave them feeling that you didn't have enough time, the conversation didn't get deep enough, you are alone again without having gotten to know them any better. And maybe, in some way that we can't predict, each time we see them means one less time that we will.

Okay, maybe that was a little too maudlin, but hey, goodbyes are bittersweet.

the bitch is back

...and couldn't be happier about it!

Goddamn, I wanna go home.

I've been out since the 18th! I'm starting to twitch and my eyes are lolling about as if desperate to escape my head..

Some high points I'm looking forward to - I want to:

• have access to the rest of my clothing, as I have about five outfits with me and
  have done laundry twice in hotels since my departure
• sleep in my own bed - it's not overrated, but chances are I'll wake up confused as
  to why I'm not in a hotel room
• see my precious little kitty and shower him with affection (because at this point
  he's basically my significant other)
• sleep whenever the fuck I want without wake-up calls, noisy maids, alarm clocks,
  etc. bothering me.. instead it'll just be my roommates
• drive my car - it's got to be a control thing, I really, really miss driving while
  I'm gone.. esp. since my car's new and the novelty hasn't worn off yet. It's kind of painful to leave it sitting at the airport all the time.
• oh yeah. see my friends, family, etc.
  

But all this shall be mine, as I'm taking a red-eye tomorrow night and getting home on the 10th.

My Space!

Click here!

For those of you who just can't get enough of me on the web! ;)

Flight attendants gone wild!

Myself (on right) and a few friends of mine the night after our final test during training.

Why, Nate, why?!?

WARNING: Potential plot spoiler ahead if you're not up to date with your viewings of HBO original series!

I finally caught up with Six Feet Under last night, an all-time favorite HBO drama of mine ever since my Media Criticism professor showed us Episode One in class back in 2001.

It is an amazing show. I hope my use of italics has caught your attention. AMAZING.

For those of you who are unfamiliar, it follows the lives of a fictional family, the Fishers, who run a funeral home in Southern California. Over the years it has not merely pushed, but shoved the crap out of the envelope with its handling of plot, character development, risque themes, etc. etc. Let's just say it's amazing and I was just a hair short of devastated to find that this would be its last season.

Well, last night one of the main characters, the eldest, prodigal son, was murdered... by the show's writers. His actual scripted cause of death was complications due to a cranial hemorrage. But still, I'm appalled. Back in Season One, Nate was more or less the main character of the show.

The only thing that kept me from absolutely losing it was what an asshole he was immediately before he died. He cheated on his pregnant wife with a dumb Quaker bitch (also his step-sister!) named Maggie and then admitted it to Brenda (said wife) and asked for a divorce before biting the bullet. Fucker! Couldn't he have died without saying that?!?

So I'm assuming next episode, airing tomorrow at 9, will be absolutely heart-wrenching as it deals with the family handling their loss. Believe it - if the world is collapsing amidst a nuclear war outside my window, I will be watching.

Flight 358

Two hundred and ninety-seven passengers and twelve crew members survived the crash of an Air France flight in Toronto today. According to the news right now, there were only fourteen injuries and no fatalities.

They're still scrambling for information about the crash, said to have occurred due to a lightning storm, but my early conclusions about how everyone survived?

Because they listened to their flight attendants, people.

So the next time someone asks you to place your seatback, tray table, etc. upright or to stow your bags all the way under the seat (all precautions taken so as to make for a clean getaway in the event of an evacuation), listen to them and don't give them any @$#%* crap!

Kay, I'm done ranting now :) Buh-bye!

Commercialling hell

So, for those of you who aren't in the industry, when we flight attendants pay to fly on another carrier, we refer to it as commercialling. Right now I'm (still) sitting in the Colorado Springs airport cooling my stilettos, and waiting for my delayed America West flight to California.

In the past, I've railed against other airlines in general, and my friend Alexandrialeigh has held issue with Independence Air in particular, but I felt that America West should be singled out as well.

They are so freaking ghetto. They are the grimy rest area bathroom of airlines. They are the thumbnail crust of an 80-year-old man of businesses. They are condescending and unhelpful. I'm an American, okay? When I pay for something, I want the representatives of that business to kiss my ass.

That is all.

Hi, bro!

My brother just read my blog for the first time, so I thought a welcome was in order.. For some reason he didn't post any comments, though! C'mon.. I crave feedback!

Pretty mountains!

Wow.

I'm in Colorado Springs (sitting in the airport, where internet access is free, actually) and I wish I could stay longer!!

The landscape is so beautiful. I wish I could hang out and do some hiking or camping.. even though it's mind-blowingly hot and when I walked from my hotel to a restaurant for dinner last night, I was sweating like a whore in church.

We just don't have this kinda stuff in South Cackalacky. Not to begrudge the natural wonders of my home state, but it'd be nice to have a view like this. I love the beach too much to be landlocked, though. But perhaps for vacation purposes....