Are flight attendants in short supply? Are they scraping the bottom of the resume pools? Why on earth would they employ fat people? They work in a thin tube, walking up and down a thinner aisle.
The aisle seat used to be great. You could stretch out your leg, get to the bathroom without disturbing people sitting next to you. You got a little extra shoulder room with your own arm rest. That’s all changed. Now it’s a place to have a fat ass bounced off your head every time the fat stewardess walks by.
I’ve been off working up the certification chain. If you live in New England, pop on up to Jumptown. It’s a great group of sky diving enthusiasts, very friendly and eager to share their knowledge. It doesn’t matter what your certification level is, or if you’ve never jumped at all. They offer lessons, coaching, tandem jumps, and everything in between.
I had a blast again this year. I did things a little different. I showed up 3 days early. The quiet time was a blast. I needed the relaxation. The drunken debauchery began Friday night and continued through early Sunday morning. We were more subdued this year, but alas, we’ll be looking for another campground for next year’s reunion.
I need a new boat. Three of us went out last week and caught 20-30 fish, two of them were keepers. We filleted them right on the boat and divided them up. Mine went straight into a cajun marinade then onto the grill that night. There are few things that beat fresh fish or game. I didn’t get out during the spring turkey season, so I’m making up for it now.
Seriously. I have an odd family. Not the people individually (for the most part), but the family dynamics in general. What specifically broughout this on? My sister is a fucking nutjob. Seriously. Every time I talk to her I wonder how she can be so detached from reality. I can’t even have a conversation with her. It rattles my brain. Have you ever spoken to someone and walked away wondering if they’ve been awake for the last few decades?
That’s my sister. She’s such a nutjob it’s annoying. You wouldn’t know it just to talk to her, you have to know her. If you ran into her on the street you wouldn’t realize she’s insane unless she started in on one of her tinfoil hat government-control-cancer-from-Jiffy Pop popcorn conspiracy theories. What exactly do I mean? Talking to her is like reading Democratic Underground. Her version of reality is fiction. Sure, it’s sometimes based on fact, but it’s warped fact. You could look at her and tell her “it’s night time, the moon is out and the sky is black”. Then, 15 minutes later, she’ll walk up to you and say your a piece of shit. You ask why. She’s pissed because you just told her she has a fat ass and smokes crack. Huh? Exactly.
She needs to see a shrink. Or at least get a fucking job and move out on her own.
