why I'll never fly Evil Spirit Airlines again

I'm cheap. I'll admit it. But there are some things that just aren't worth saving the hundred bucks it would have cost me to fly Jet Blue. To wit:

1. I showed up 75 minutes early for my flight (my fault) which was then delayed 90 minutes (theirs). This gave me the opportunity to sit next to a lovely woman who, I'm not kidding, said "fuck" every other word. I texted this my friend Christina, who told me that in response, I should just start randomly saying "poop" to no one. I considered this, but didn't want to poop -- I mean, stoop -- to their level.

(poop.)

2. Evil Spirit Airlines will book your seat for you, but if you want to sit somewhere other than in the bathroom, you have to pay anywhere from $12 to $20 on top of your ticket price. Needless to say, I sat in the bathroom. Where I didn't have any snacks, drinks, or luggage.

3. Something about this airline breeds children. I've never seen so many of them in my life. I swear there were more when we landed than there were when we took off. And they. Were. All. Crying.

4. Ever been on a plane with creaky arm rests and lots of children? Yeah, don't.

5. On the flight down to Florida, we hit some of the worst turbulence I've ever seen in my life. It's sad when the thought of your own death provokes whimpers of "but I haven't DONE anything yet!!"

6. We flew on an Airbus that "was only two years old!" (hooray!) However, Airbuses are made in France, and apparently, in the last two years, there has been such a dramatic decline in the number of French people who pee that the designers thought two toilets would amply serve 156 people. In horrible turbulence. And we were told repeatedly that we should really use the one in the back, since NOBODY can linger near the cockpit door. NOBODY! EVER!

7. Also, French people must be very, very, short, as I am a mere 5'8" and my knees were jammed into the seat in front of me. Even nicer, the seat in front of me reclined while mine was frozen in place, because it was broken. So I read my book like the nerdy kid in high school (which I was anyway), a mere six inches from my face. I considered crying (which I also did in high school).

8. I'm barfophobic. We've discussed this at length. So when turbulence gets really bad on a plane, I don't think "OH MY GOD WE'RE GOING DOWN!" I think "OH MY GOD WHO'S GONNA BARF?!?!" And perhaps this is well warranted:

8A: On the way home, two rows behind me, before we even took off, a flight attendant arrived on the scene with a bag.
"Here," she said. "Wipe that up, and throw it in here. And then this bag's for later."
For me, hearing this was like seeing an accident up ahead and resisting the urge to find out if the motorcyclist lost his head in the collision with the semi. But resisted I did!
When I walked by later (to pee in the one bathroom), the offending guy was covered in napkins, so it was hard to tell. But I'm still convinced he barfed. Because, hell, it's Evil Spirit Airlines!

8B: The landing was extended for some reason, and we ended up flying over Queens, Long Island, up into the Bronx, to the Canadian border, back around via Arizona, and landed at LGA. It was a little bumpy, but nothing like the turbulence we suffered earlier. Nonetheless, I saw a flight attendant waggling a barf bag at a passenger during landing, which is a rare sight. (Luckily I stealthily kept my ipod on under my hair so I didn't have to hear what was going on.)
Anyway, as we were deplaning, she got on the radio and said the regular "welcome to LaGuardia, the local time is blah blah blah" crap, but added the ever so lovely "we know there were lots of upset stomachs during this flight, so if any of you have any bags... full of... sickness, please feel free to deposit them in the garbage as you leave the plane."

Oh Jet Blue, why was I so foolishly led astray??

(poop!)

when the hell did it become august?

I'm just saying, time is going by too quickly. I'm getting old.

In an effort to delay the inevitable, I bring the following things to your attention:

1. Tuesdays with Nando
Just like the best selling book, Tuesdays with Morrie, (which my mother and I detest and call "Wednesdays with Dipshit"), this tome is full of charming, heartwarming episodes. Like the time I said to Fernando, "I have a weird patch of skin falling off my finger. I think it's leprosy," and he responded by shouting "UNCLEAN!" and pointing me out of our office. Other winning chapters involve Fernando's salads smelling of egg farts (and driving my boss out of the office) and the old acting headshot postcard of me that we've taped to the mailbox so that when I'm out of the office, Fernando has someone to talk to.

Stay tuned... Mondays with Kate will be out soon.

2. Ye Olde Oral Fixations
Remember Freshen Up Gum? The gum that squirted green goo into your mouth when you bit the center of it? Why was that ever popular? It was easily one of the most disgusting things not actually marketed to kids.

I was thinking of that the other day because Fernando gave me spearmint gum (and I don't eat spearmint gum, but figured I'd try it again, just to see if I was missing out on anything -- and I'm not) and it tasted just as I remember Freshen Up tasting. This, of course, led me down a slippery slope, recalling Chewels and Velamints, too.

Crap, I'm old.

3. Pearls before Swine Flatulation
The beau said something absolutely lovely recently. "I knew I was going to have fun with you," he said, "but I didn't think I would like you this much."

I smiled, and accidentally kicked him under the table.

"I'd say you're like a ray of sunshine, but you're more like..."

"A funny looking cloud?" I offered.

"No, if you were sunshine, that would imply it was all dark and gloomy before you came along. You're more like... You know what you're like? You're like a pig's fart in a candlelit room."

Take that, Shakespeare!

4. Two for the price of one
My mother was recently diagnosed with a liver cyst, which you can really only get by talking nasty to your children. (I told her to "fucking cut that shit out" years ago, but does she listen? Goddamnit, of course not!) She went in to have it removed yesterday, and apparently, it wasn't one monster cyst, it was two.

One for me and one for my cyster.

5. Watch Out!

achtung! das emotions!

I have this little heart, and all these big feelings.

And sometimes my little heart just breaks because it can't help itself.

Filled up with love, or loneliness, or connection, or bliss.

And joy and sadness flood my body like sweet and sour sauce.

With gentleness, I pack the goodies back where they belong, and take my tear stained face for a sojourn on the pillow.

Silly little heart, trying to swim in the deep end without its floaties!

hi ho, hi ho, it's off to work I go!

1. A co-worker is temporarily situated between two of our stranger birds, and recently reported this conversation to me:

(Oddity1 enters with a paper bag.)

(Oddity2, hearing the bag, runs across the hall.)

Oddity2: (almost violently) WHAT DID YOU GET?

Oddity1: Eggs.

Oddity2: WHAT???

Oddity1: Eggs. Eggs.

Oddity2 (again, disappointed) Oh. I thought you said peanut butter and jelly.

(She exits, sadly.)

2. My boss brings me gifts every now and then. Like this picture of her little friend, Moogie, and his little friend, Jacob.

(Adorable, right?)

3. Fernando recently went to the accounting department to look at the firm's Verizon bill, when the following conversation happened:

AccountingGirl: I don't know which bill you need.

Fernando: If you just give me the folder, I'll take a leak.

AccountingGirl: (blink) (blink)

Fernando: I mean, I'll take a leak.

AccountingGirl: (blink) (blink)

Fernando: I mean, just give me the bills, please.

4. I accidentally told a partner I was talking out my ass the other day. I'm not sure which was sadder -- the fact that I was talking out my ass, or that I felt compelled to announce it.

5. We introduced my boss to Ken Lee this morning. Have you met him?

things I love (in no apparent order)

I love:

• when it becomes clear that the yowling neighbor next to you is actually singing along to Beyonce and not just suffering severe indigestion
• a commute that yields a parade of four yellow vehicles in a row: taxi, schoolbus, Arizona Iced Tea van, taxi
• the strange talismanic crap little boys carry around with them - stormtrooper in one hand, hammer and lizard in the other
• cashews
• Fernando's sister, Michelle, who laughs really heartily at everything
• the feeling of the beau's arms protecting me from the scary, scary alarm clock
• the existence of pudding skin, although not the skin itself
• the kind of blue bic pens that I can see how much of the ink I've already used while writing in my journal
• "otiose" (the new word I learned in my book today. It means "1. being at leisure; idle; indolent, 2. ineffective or futile, 3. superfluous or useless.")
• certain shades of blue that feel endlessly deep
• the power of my own body (and I mean that in a kick-you-punch-you kind of way, not a hubba-hubba kind of way, although that's fun, too.)
• coaching, but especially seeing the light in someone's eyes that comes from revelation

astrological truths revealed!

Sometimes I think horoscopes are right.

Like the one I got on the day of my cousin's baby shower:
"Your family is abuzz with some new plan -- maybe a vacation or a party, or maybe something more practical. You'd much rather just get on with it than keep exploring options, though."

Or the one I got last week, which could really apply to just about any day of my life:
"You're still all fired up with good energy, and you should be especially drawn to children and others young at heart. Have fun with your daily activities, and you may just inspire others to do the same."

But sometimes, they're beyond right. They're personal.

The other day I had the most ridiculous commute to work ever. There was a local train two stations away with its brakes in emergency, so after waiting 20 minutes, the station agent finally told us about the situtation. I waited another 10 minutes, as these things often clear up on their own, but even after 10 minutes, there wasn't any sign of a train. So I grabbed my suitcase (which makes commuting even more fun) and hopped on a downtown local, so I could take an express train from 36th street.

Long story short, an hour after I walked into my local station, I was on an express train that hadn't even gotten BACK to the station I started from.

And what did the stars have to say about that?
"It's a good time for you to drill down and forget about the big picture for now -- you've got to make the trains run on time before you can think about laying down any new tracks!"

Creepy!

Fernando is still trying to kill me

I'm not paranoid, I swear! Here are five more ways in which my dear, sweet, wonderful officemate is trying to kill me. (Or at least drive me to take my own life.)

(You can see the first five ways in which he's trying to kill me here.)

6. He steals the garbage can
In an effort to be environmental, Fernando and I share a garbage can. One can, one bag, less plastic in the oceans... we're essentially good people. Except when Fernando HOGS the garbage can WAY over the halfway mark between our desks. He claims it's the cleaning lady who does this, but I know he's using some weird telekinetic voodoo to inch it over to his side while I'm not looking.

7. He got me hooked on pitted dates
Once upon a time, Fernando came back from the 99 cent store with a container of pitted dates. They were cracky good. We ate them until that container was gone. Then we bought another one. And another one. And another one. We ate them like they were going out of style. He turned me into an ADDICT! I'm like a vegetarian zombie who roams around moaning "DAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAATES"

8. He forces me to write songs
Fernando will take anything I say and turn it into the refrain of a song. For example, I'll say something like "it's time for a pitted date" and he'll spice it up and jazzify it, chanting "it's time for a pitted date (oh yeah!)/ it's time for a pitted date (you know it!)/ you asked for the time, and instead you got this rhyme / it's time for a pitted date!" and then I end up singing the pitted date song for the next two-to-three hours at least. My other coworkers think I'm crazy, but really, without Fernando I'd be totally sane. I swear. I'd never make up a song all by myself...

(Note to self: don't write about the pitted date song, or it will get re-stuck in your head.)

9. He stopped eating pitted dates!
After introducing me to the heroin-like fruit, Fernando stopped eating them. Because they had calories and nutritional value. See, Fernando has this strange obsession with the Eat-This-Not-That kind of news reporting that can be found on such reputable sites as Yahoo! Mail. He continually alerts me to which fast food joints have the worst grades in the fat/calories department, even though he knows I haven't eaten fast food since high school. He also thinks he's going to die of visceral fat. (I periodically remind him that he has to HAVE visceral fat to die from it.)

10. He drinks like a fish
Back in the day (around the time of the pitted dates), I vowed I would drink more water. You know, because it was good for me. I announced my intention to Fernando, making it more likely that I would actually follow through with it, and he joined in.

Now he drinks WAAAAAY more than I do, and he's got this weird clicky throat noise that makes me worried that water is going to come out his nose if he holds his head at the wrong angle. (I secretly want to test out this theory, but how could I subtly convince him to drink water while leaning over the arm of his chair?)



Now, I just want you all to know that I am NOT THREATENED by the fact that Fernando eats better than I do, drinks more water than I do, is generally more charming and attractive than I am, and that when he's out, fewer people come to visit.

Not threatened at all.

(Although, you should also probably know that one time he made me try to pop popcorn with my cellphone. I know, crazy, right??)