Airports

I like to travel and nothing’s better than smooth travels. Actually, smooth anything is really nice, like smooth ice cream or smooth butter—virtually any smooth dairy products—and smooth skin and hair. But almost nothing beats smooth travel. And you know it’s a smooth trip when you’re seated next to a infant on the plane. Especially when it’s a red-eye. He should sleep like a baby, because he is a baby and you didn’t make that old saying up yourself, now did you? Someone who’s never sat next to a baby on a red-eye did. Good thing they serve cocktails at 30,000 feet, because that little guy seems upset—he’s going to need one.

Airports, in general, are really exciting. Most people there are going on vacation or traveling to visit old friends and family. It’s no wonder people in airports are always in such good moods. Especially the airport employees; so nice and personable.

Sometimes I go sit at the airport just for people to think I’m going on vacation. It’s a good way to make new friends. I put on my flip-flops and Hawaiian shirt. Rub some SPF-65 on my nose and hang out at e-ticket check in. I tell everyone how excited I am to work on my tan and take my surfing lessons. We share stories about our favorite trips. Well, I do most of the sharing, they’re busy hustling off to catch their flights and sending the TSA over to talk to me and escort me out. They must really like me, to make sure I’m safe like that. I love airports.

Instructions

There’s a lot of things out there that come with instructions these days. Car seats, soup cans, shampoo bottles…beer bottles. Usually these instructions come in quite handy. Except when you mix them up and twist off your car seat knobs and add a can of water to your shampoo then heat it over medium for 10 minutes, stirring occasionally. I hate when that happens, but at least I don’t have to work too hard at cleaning the pan. No, I just made that up. I don’t even have a car seat. But I do have a car that I drove to the art store the other day. I bought paints, brushes and paper. It’s been a long time since I painted. So long I bet no one even calls it painting anymore. I’m sure it has a new name now like pigment-liquiding or color-expressing. I got all set up to pigment-express myself but there were no instructions on the back of my paint tubes. Or my brushes. How can I make art—if that’s what they even call it nowadays—if there’s no instructions how to make happy little trees and Mona Lisa smiles? The toothpaste tells me how to brush. The door at the liquor store tells me how to open it. The envelopes in my mailbox from the IRS say “Open Immediately. This is Your Final Warning.” This must be some sort of oversight by the manufacturers. Hopefully it gets rectified soon so I can paint like the masters. I wonder if the masters lathered, rinsed and repeated with soup sometimes.

Just So You Know

Just so you know, if someone offers you a slice of gum. You should take it.
Because chances are...you have bad breath.

Returns

We’re lucky to live in a place where we can return things if we change our minds. Clothes, food, kids…if it’s not working for you, just return it. Swap it out. Get your money back. Store credit. Options options options. America is about options. I got gas last night—$3.89 a gallon. A few blocks up it was only $3.49 a gallon. So I turned around. I keep a siphon handy for incidents like this. Or for when I need to borrow some gas from someone else. Kinda like jumper cables only you have to make sure no one is looking. “Excuse me sir, I need to return my gas.” I said. It didn’t go very well. Maybe he just didn’t understand me. It can be hard to hear me through my ski mask sometimes. But it was so cold out. The back of the squad car was warm though. They should really have signs up saying “No Exchanges-No Refunds” at these gas stations. After all, this is America.

I’m DIY

I like to do things myself. Fix the dishwasher, mow the lawn, polish off the liquor cabinet. It’s much more satisfying to do it yourself. The other day I decided to put a new air filter in my car. I could have paid a mechanic to do it but it’s more fun to try on your own then worry for a few days that your car may catch on fire on the freeway because you put it in upside down. Or spilled too much vodka on it.

Another good DIY project is cutting your own hair. Or better yet, your friends hair. I find that the best time is when they’re sleeping. That way they’re already very still so you don’t have to waste all your Xanax in their drinks. Plus they get to wake up with a nice surprise. It’s just like Christmas. So if they’re Jewish it’s even more exciting.

Anti-Sam

I never really understood Sam Adams drinkers. I think you guys are all big fakers. Big New England loving fakers. Have you tasted that stuff? Wooh. So not a party in my mouth. If I had a bouncer for my mouth-parties Sam Adams wouldn’t be on the list. And neither would olives. Those guys can go hang out together someplace else and talk Revolution and The Acropolis or whatever olives and Sam Adams would talk about. And it seems if you live in Boston you have to like Sam. If you don’t you should probably relocate. Or go into hiding. Just don’t tell Paul Revere where you’re hiding. He’ll tell everyone.