A chance?

Sometimes, the universe throws an opportunity your way. Maybe it doesn't flatter you, make use of what you feel are your particular talents, but it lets you do something.

We've all run through a gamut of emotions since Hurricane Katrina struck New Orleans - and sometimes the enormity of it just leaves us numb. Some of us, we do nothing because we can't bring ourselves to do everything - sell all worldly possessions and haul ass down there to do what we can with our own two hands. I mean, I donated my embarrassingly paltry amount through my company, who matched it, but.. I just felt guilty that I wasn't willing to do more. It wasn't enough.

But now I've been assigned by my company (and perhaps the universe at large?) to be a little more directly involved. In a couple days, I will be operating a flight out of Riverside, CA, to New Orleans to transport military personnel. Yeah, I'll still feel like if I were a true humanitarian, deeply enough immersed in my convictions, strong enough, fearless enough, I'd be one of them. So maybe it won't matter. We can't all be heroes, right?

But hell. I can at least make sure those that are have a decent flight.

I'm a slack bridesmaid.

Thank God I'm not an event planner, cause I suck at this. I've already inspired the groom's two sisters to take the reins and plot out the bridal shower. I feel a little guilty about that, but what am I to do? It's hard to fit things like this in between gallavanting around the world. (cough)

But maybe, ultimately, it's a question of protocol. I'm the maid of honor, right? I'm 'handling' the bachelorette party (which includes a daytime spa portion). Granted, no real 'planning' has taken place, but the bare bones of the thing are there. Is the bridal shower supposed to be my responsibility too? Who can say?

Maybe if my family were affluent and I was born into a life of leisure, I'd know more about etiquette. (There's always a way to blame your parents.) Yes, and I would have been the quintessential debutante, replete with ruffly dresses and coming out parties and petit fours. Watercress sandwiches. Bon-bons. Parasols. Cats on leashes. Croquet. Flirtations with gardeners. Courtships. Antique pearls. A mysterious trunk in the attic..

But I digress! If anyone out there happens to have any suggestions so I don't turn out to be the most obnoxiously useless bridesmaid ever, I'd appreciate it.
(And don't say, "Don't get drunk at the reception." I'll be doing so regardless of social consequence.)

Because my life is boring.

Despite widespread public opinion to the contrary, it's not interesting. So I've had nothing to say, lately, really. I mean, I had a houseguest for a couple days, a flight attendant friend from Georgia. It was fun. That's all, really.

It's times like these when I realize it's probably time to get back on the road and start feeling like a productive member of society. I mean, I never want to leave my friends, family, cat, car, etc. to go gallavanting off.. but then I do, cause I get bored not working for ten days in a row every month.

Plus, I tend to be a little healthier while I'm travelling. I eat better, exercise, and don't drink as much. While I'm home (and I swear every time that it'll be different this time) it's a fucking free-for-all. I watch stuff I've Tivo'ed, go to the beach, drink, play pool, drink, hang out with friends, do errands, drink.

I know, I'm such a bitch. But I swear, even hedonistic excess gets tiresome after awhile.

It's definitely not just us.

It's men, too. Everyone thinks they're fat.


Me: Have you been working out?
Male friend: indeed
Male friend: why do you ask?
Male friend: :-*
Me: You seem to have finally lost all that baby fat.
Me: ;)
Male friend: hey FUCK YOU YOU BITCH
Male friend: I FUCKING HATE YOU AND HOPE YOU DIE!
Male friend: just kidding ... yeah, thanks
Me: Oh, stop it.
Me: Like you've ever had any fat.
Male friend: I do have a little bit around the belly button
Male friend: it's true
Male friend: it's true
Me: Oh, jesus.
Me: It's called skin.


One of the most troubling banes of my existence is the preoccupation of all my female friends with their weight. But, as the evidence above suggests, it's not just us. It's a goddamn epidemic.

It frightens me. When a friend says, "I ate three french fries, therefore, I will do cardio for an extra 12 and a half minutes, along with six extra stomach crunches," it frightens me. It would seem to me that after the starving of oneself I witness among my friends, one would no longer have the energy left to formulate these complex rewards/punishment systems.

Whatev, dude. I'm tired of all these skinny bitches in the media. Who wants to be bony, or have sex with someone who is? Not moi, my friends.

Uhhnnngghh.

That's the precise term for how I feel right now. I'm watching Unsolved Mysteries and hibernating in my bed with the blinds closed. Why is jet lag such a bitch? Why, oh why is it such a rotting, one-eyed whore? And why do I continuously defy good sense and stay out drinking even when I'm really tired, until I get drunk enough that I no longer realize I'm tired? Yes, and why is it that my friends insist on buying me drinks to coerce me into staying once I've threatened to go home? Bastards.

That all being said, at least I don't have to go back to work for ten days. Plenty of time to revel in self-destructive behavior several times, then recover.

Karma's a bitch, and so are we.

So that's our motto - us residents of the imaginary land of Airhostessia, which you pronounce, by the way, in a sort of ex-Soviet state accent, with a measure of disillusionment and bitterness thrown in. (Air-hose-TEZ-iya). Furthermore, our national anthem is the chilling refrain of "Raptus! Dominus!," properly sung high-pitched and drawn-out.

Have I, you may wonder, been dabbling in hallucinogenics? No, of course not! The FAA forbids! What is this about, then, you must want to know because you're continuing to read this?

Well, most workplaces are polarized to some extent or another, typically there are two opposing factions, i.e. management and workers. In restaurants, maybe, front-of-house and back-of-house. You get the gist.

In my line of work, the actual management is elusive and never-seen as it is extremely rare for us flight attendants to pass through headquarters or even phone there unless absolutely necessary. We prefer to communicate through e-mail. The less exposure the better, both sides seem to believe. So the focus, the group we define ourselves in opposition to, becomes the pilots.

Yes, those priggish, snotty bastards. And I say this with bemused warmth, I assure you. Those self-important, sense-of-entitlement-driven residents of our warring neighbor, Pilotia. (Puh-lo-shia).

It's an interesting relationship between the two lands, rich with conflicting emotions, affairs, drunkenness, disdain, ambivalence, resignment. We are both wary of and intrigued by each other. We both hate and love, fear and embrace.

Stay tuned for more news of the two lands. C'mon.. it'll be more interesting than real news.

Damnit!

Bob and Alice are "working things out."

That sucks!

Purple marble elegantly

After having witnessed and been amused by this for years now, I am finally compelled to comment on the Japanese' use of English in whimsical and nonsensical phrases. Apparently, I'm not the only one.

The above subject line I actually saw on a t-shirt yesterday, and maybe the most hilarious part of it all is we do the same thing. Who knows what the Chinese, Japanese, etc. characters could possibly mean on t-shirts, tattoos, and other various forms of display that have grown trendy in recent years?

I had a friend who wore some t-shirt with Chinese lettering on it to Disney World, and while she visited "China," she actually asked for a translation and was told the word emblazoned across her chest actually read something similar to "whore"!

Of course, knowledge and usage of English is much more common in Japan than vice versa, and the average Japanese tends to have a basic working knowledge of English, so it just always makes me wonder why some words get siphoned through. There's this "American" grocery store a few blocks away called "Mommy," for instance.

Oh well. I'm glad this strange disparity exists, as it provides endless amusement for us visitors to Japan. Happy kitty bicycle time!

More typhoon dodging

We flew to Okinawa and back today, and for a little while there it was sketchy whether or not we'd get to leave once we got down there, as they're expecting a Category 5 typhoon to hit there by tomorrow. During our ground time, we went to the BX to pick up miscellaneous and sundry items (my list: Clinique Moisture On-Line and eyedrops) and the place was absolutely insane. Everyone had a sheen of sweat on their face and a gleam of madness in their eyes as they scrambled to get last-minute typhoon survival items. The Clinique counter wasn't exactly swamped, surprisingly enough.

We were the last flight out and it got hairy for a while as it dawned on us that we might get trapped there, and none of us had brought our luggage, as we hadn't checked out of our hotel on the mainland. We even had a Lord of the Flies moment when some of the flight crew got back to the plane late and almost caused a flight delay.

Hopefully Okinawa won't see the kind of destruction that New Orleans has lately endured... I've been through many a typhoon and hurricane, but as a local in prone areas, you become sort of a skeptic after you see so many threats that don't pan out. I guess that explains why so many New Orleans people didn't evacuate in time. My dad, who lives on the Florida panhandle never evacuates. He's got sort of a captain-goes-down-with-the-ship mentality, which, not being a homeowner myself, I can't personally fathom.

A girl I know was scoffing at why would anyone have thought coastal Louisiana was a good place to build a city, considering hurricane season, and snarkily remarked that that was "just lke the French." Well, correct me if I'm wrong, but it's been around for 300 years, non? And the last time it was hit was about forty years ago. It's not like it was built on quicksand, for Christ's sake! Maybe it's just me, I love France, loved living there, and get easily irritated when people decide to be scathingly original and bash the French. People, come on! It's been done!

free tacos, yay!

We're always excited to be in Osan on Thursdays, which happens to be free taco night at the Officer's Club. Of course, we aren't officers, being non-military, but in a civilian sort of way, we kind of are.

Allow me to explain. As we are contracted by the military, we have Dept. of Defense ID cards that identify our rank as equivalent to level three officers. So it's sort of like we're Captains without having had the messy experiences of boot camp and any other training/etc. the real ones have to endure. Fun, huh? If only we were credible enough that we could go around forcing the enlisted men to do push-ups.

But as far as the tacos go, it's a shaky claim. The Korean ladies that run the bar attempted to foil us by hiding the plates (as we are not officially "members" of the club), but they underestimated the grit and temerity of us flight attendants. We conceived the brilliant plan of waiting until they were too busy to guard the plates, then lunged over the bar and snatched a stack, then proceeded to gorge ourselves on delicious tacos.

Yeah, I know it's sad. But when you're forced to eat out constantly, it gets a bit expensive, and one tends to go to previously unforeseeable lengths to secure a free dinner.