Tuesday, March 15, 2011

i should hire someone to think of titles.

Everyones favorite week of the year is here, and while all the cool kids are off getting drunk on the beach, I'm kickin it in Virginia with my sister Val and her husband Jake.

I try not to make anything on here too personal because I'm not kim kardashian and nobody cares about my life. Even though I've probably accomplished more than she has. My sisters idiot dog who can't even urinate outside has accomplished more than she has.

I digress. The point is that being somewhere new, and being forced to partake in things Val enjoys (I shouldn't say forced; whatever makes Valerie happy truly makes me happy, just totally NOT my style) provides for a wide variety of new things to observe. Observation leads to thinking, thinking leads to writing, and writing leads to this.

So, with my hosts in bed and nothing to do at night, extensive writing will ensue.


Flight at 6 am. The last time I was up this early was probably in high school. The airport is packed, I'm half asleep, I dont know where the B gates are because I've never flown east.
I get to the front of security.
"Ma'am step up to the right please"
I step up.
"The other right" (which was actually left.)

good start.

Now I get to put all my stuff in the little taupe colored boxes. I decide against taking my 349075028 bracelets off but I do take off my belt. Apparently I thought THAT was gonna be the thing that would set off the alarms. Like I said; half asleep.

I'm standing waiting for the fat little ray of sunshine on the other side of the metal detector to motion me through, but I am interrupted by the guy on the other side of the conveyer belt.
"You gotta get your stuff through the scanner" he says to me.

Ok, for those who are unfamiliar with airports, the boxes in which you put your carry-on items to be scanned are to be placed on a long conveyer belt, halfway made up of a series of little rolling cylinders, halfway made up of an automatic belt like in grocery stores. My box was like, .01 nanometers away from the electronic part.

He seriously could not have nudged it for me? Luckily he had enough energy to alert me of the situation. It's 5 in the morning. Thanks, douchebag.
My stuff went through and they concluded that I was indeed NOT a terrorist, but as I put my shoes back on I noticed a man with whom lady luck was not so generous. I watched in empathetic, disgusted amusement as the pretentious tsa agent felt up a guy who looked like he was on his way to Disneyland with his family.
America: 0
Terrorists: 1

I could go on and on about the airport but let's skip to the part where I land in Virginia.
Val and Jake picked me up...blah blah blah...boring sister stuff that you'd care a lot more about if our names were Kim and Khloe..........and THEN
she made me watch The Bachelor.

Is it real? seriously. is it?

All of these women compete for a guys "love" over the course of 6 weeks, and then BREAK DOWN AND CRY WHEN THEY GET REJECTED?
uhhh. k. where do I even begin.

The bachelor hooks up with all of these different girls, "gets to know them" (hahahaha) and then chooses one to whom he proposes marriage. And right before said proposal, he sees another girl who has met his family and is all dolled up, tells her he has real feelings for her and can't deny the spark, but he's in love with someone else. ?!?
And then she cries, because girls are stupid.

Then he confesses his undying "love" for the chosen one, and she is glowing with excitement and adoration, after STARING INTO THE FACES OF THE OTHER GIRLS ON THE SHOW DAY AFTER DAY AFTER DAY KNOWING THAT HES BEEN DOING THE SAME THING WITH THEM.
And then she accepts, because girls are STUPID.

I can sum that show up in one word: it starts with 'p' and rhymes with synthethic - just like all of those people's personalities.

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