The air was alive.

1.1.2kX

Heard it all before, a thousand times: "The overhead bin space is for larger carry-on luggage, smaller items should be placed in the space beneath the seat in front of you." And, "In the event of a water landing, your seat cushion can be used as a flotation device." And, "The captain has not turned off the fasten seatbelts sign, so please return to your seats." But not, "Our in-flight beverage service will consist of complimentary coffee, juice or soft drinks, beer, wine and margaritas are available for five dollars." Margaritas? I love margs, sure, I just wasn't expecting a major airline to take a stand and offer margaritas over the dozens of other cocktail choices available. Why not bloodys? Why not gimlets? Why not sake-bombs? Why not Jaeger shots? No, the lovely Miss Margarita won the contract.

And I didn't expect the flight attendants to offer cocktails at the god-awful early dust-off time of 5:50 am, but they did. I was half zombiefied and didn't trust that I heard them correctly, but my connecting flight in Houston some time later said the same thing. bla bla bla for free and beer, wine and MARGARITAS for five bucks. I had to investigate.

I shoulda guessed that it was a pre-mixed job and I winced a little, knowing that most mixes are sweet as Texas tea, but I found this to be a nice sweet-salty mix. And I was happy that I could get two nice drinks out of the wee bottle if I had an airline cup full of ice. My sister joined me in this experiment and she enjoyed the marg too, so when our flight attendant came by asking if we wanted another, we said hell yeah. Then the gal seated in front of us asked how they were and we said, "surprisingly, they aren't bad." She asked for a marg too.

So now the FA had three margs to retrieve. She got the gals one each and said, "I'll have to go to the forward galley to get yours," to me. She came back and hardly slowed down when she handed me mine. My little wife, seated next to me, said, "I think that one's been opened." Sure enough, the seal was broken and the little bottle wasn't full. "Good eye," I said, then flagged down the FA. "I hate to be a pest," I said, "but this marg's been opened." She took the bottle and said, "I think she opened it." I didn't know who "she" was and why she would have opened it. "I'll get you another, " she then said. "Take yr time," I said, " I'm finishing this one." She said she'd be right back and she was. "This one's unopened, but sticky," she said, "something spilled on it. Another margarita, I think. I'll get you a wet-nap." I said don't bother. "I have a napkin." She left and came back with a wet-nap AND a tiny bottle of Grand Mariner! "Float some of this on top, hon," she said. "Why you have just Cadillaced our margaritas!" I said. "Thanks!"

I then shared with both my sister and the gal in front of me. Twas the Season of Giving, after all.

Tonight - Bloodhound.

They got hooks under the bar for yr coats. You'll need'm.

bye-ee!

whrr ... clik!

Black and Deck Her

12.3.2k9

Witnessing righetous mothering in action daily, what with my Little Wife throwing around mothering Ez Pez like a pro, I figure it's a good time to dig up a TRUE story of a mother doing some kick ASS mothering to combat a lousy mother's mothering from way back, nearly a meeelion years ago, sometime in the 1980s.

My neighbor's future convict, or "son," had a birthday and, being neighbors of the same age, I got to go give him a Chewbacca actio figure and get some cake and ice cream with a bunch of other little lunatics. It all went down like you can imagine: Screaming and yelling, cowboys and indians (or "coyotes and Border Patrol" as we played in the Desert Southwest), Jarts®, presents, and then cake and ice cream. I played the role of Milton from Office Space and, uh, got no cake and ice cream. Because I had a run-in with my neighbor's lousy mom a couple days earlier, I clammed-up and sat it out. No cake, no ice cream. No shit.

I must have casually mentioned the omission to my mom later that day. That's the only thing that explains why shitty-neighbor mom brought a slice of lousy cake and a scoop of melted ice cream over to my house. I think she asked why I didn't say anything at the time. I don't remember what I said, but I hope to fuck it was funny.

Tonight - Homestead.

Robots wish Happy Birthday Drinkys to H.Founding Member Mathias Alonzo Genser and Novice Member Gaelan Thomas Alonzo Mundorff

Oh and for you archivists out there (Alan), the neighbor lady mentioned in the VA is indeed the one who got a penny stuck in her scalp. Yay, lawnmowers!

bye-ee!

whrr ... clik!

Info only.

12.2.2k9

Peelin' tonight. $5 after 10p or some such. Have fun.

Tonight - Club Deluxe.



bye-ee!

whrr ... clik!

ah hunnerd brrrrs annachos

12.1.2k9

If the Bears weren't lousy enough and if they weren't too painful to watch, I had quite a scare the other day. The RV pr0n in my neighborhood - the Bambi down the block - disappeared! Not only did I ride my bike past it every morning and evening, but I'd push Ez's pram up the block to gawk at it every Saturday and Sunday. Gone! I was sad.

Then, she appeared again! Back in her spot! What a relief. She's soooo purdy.

And this get's me to my conflict. I have such a glowing, festering hatred for thehomeless and their filthy circus wagons that I can't believe I'm so glued to Bambi. Some of thehomeless around Venice have add-ons to their rigs that look right out of Mad Max III. Festooned with "ARMY RANGER" stickers and peace symbols like one or the other should make people who work for a living figure they've earned their right to be pigs. ugh.

I'm going nowhere with this rant. Over and out.

Tonight - Mini Bar SF.



bye-ee!

whrr ... clik!