Very Early Saturday Morning Hodgepodge

Flying in over New York, bored out of my mind and trying to not get sucked into the conversation that was being thrust upon Girlfriend by an overly chatty seatmate, I watched the lights of the city drift by the windows and I had this thought:

"The landscape looks like a thousand years of smashed electronic equipment slowly coming back to life, the unused lights repurposed by the techno-gods of HERE and NOW and, yes, the future is bright once more"

Kinda fruity and pretentious in a Douglas Coupland sort of way, but nonetheless... that was my first thought back within the borders of NYC and I just knew you kids would want to get in on it.

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Overall, our brush with air travel wasn't too traumatic this year, particularly when you consider the number of people I've talked to who spent whole 24-hour periods (and longer) in airports, waiting on flights that got lost in The Phantom Zone, or were menaced by sky demons, or were blown up by air marshals because a passenger uttered the phrase "Jason Priestly is the bomb, yo" and they thought said passenger was a terrorist. And NOT because he said, "bomb;" no, because it's a well known fact that Al Qaeda just got a hold of the first season of Beverly Hills, 90210 on DVD and, seriously, who but a terrorist would prefer the square Brandon Walsh to the dreamy Dylan McKay... WHO, I ask you...

Anyway, my point is our air travel experience was fine. No delays, no cancellations, no hilarious misunderstanding involving me, a stewardess, and an airplane bathroom with a faulty lock... nothing. Kinda boring, really. Not hardly worth bringing up.

I will say this though... or, rather, I'll ask this... were you guys aware that Continental Airlines is still serving in-flight meals? They're really crappy pre-packaged junk without even a trace of tender, loving care (featuring Lisa "Left Eye" Lopez), but still. Today, we were served some wilted lettuce in a plastic container, a large thing of dressing that jizzed all over me when I opened it (it was pretty sexy), and a pizza that was 90% thick, birthday cake-esque dough and 10% an uninspired take on what some people might call, while smirking ironically, "toppings." Sauce and cheese, I guess, but I think they were just kidding.

I mean, it's better than a shitty Mylar bag of pretzels, but only because it gives you something to focus on for ten minutes that isn't your imminent death in a horrible, fiery crash. Or at least that was the purpose it served in my case. I don't fly well.

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Every Christmas, in my bucket (we do buckets instead of stockings at the Davis household, as stockings are wimpy and don't hold enough processed sugar for our liking), there's always a healthy double-fistful of these:



They're chewy peppermints, they are RETARDEDLY delicious, and I think my mom gets them straight from a secret source deep within Willy Wonka's factory because I have never... literally, NOT ONCE... seen these for sale at any store.

I'm pretty sure this theory is correct because there's tons of pictures in our family album of her drinking egg nog with Oompa Loompas beneath the stuffed, mounted carcass of Augustus Gloop. Anyway, it's nearly 1am and I just ate five of them and now the sugar and the whiskey are battling it out like American Gladiators in my blood stream. Who will survive... and what will be left of them?

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Totally unrelated to anything...

NEW PORN TITLES

The Curious Case of Benjamin's Butthole
Marley & Me & A Jar of Skippy
Seven Pounds (Of My Dong)
Yes... Yes... OH GOD, YES Man
Valkyrie, But With Fucking