“How do these things relate?” you might be asking yourself. Well, they don’t. Unless you stretch reeeeaally far to make them SEEM relatable…which of course I’ve been known to do. A lot. Got that super-handy skill from my dad. And so I’m going to try to attempt it now.
So first, let me just say this. I have absolutely no reason to hop on an airplane in the foreseeable future. (Unless anyone out there would like to offer to whisk me away on a girl’s trip. Or a family trip. Because I’m not against hanging out with you and your husband and your kids—as long as you don’t expect me to babysit. And as long as you’re buying all my dinner(s). After a quick check of my calendar, the entire month of June looks open. Call me and we’ll make plans).
Anyway, as I was saying, I have absolutely no reason to hop on an airplane anytime soon. But if I do, let me make this clear: If either the pilot or a random drunk passenger (you know who you are) stands up and starts yelling freaky things about foreign countries or overweight flight attendants, I will pull out my Edward Scissorhands (which I keep oh-so-carefully hidden under my hip sweater twinsets) and proceed to use them. And if somehow my scissors don’t pop out on command, I have pepper…er, hairspray in my purse. And I will spray it in your eyes. And stomp on your foot. And kick you where it hurts.
Because here’s the deal: If I plunk down money to fly somewhere, I want to sit back and read a People magazine. Maybe sip a Diet Coke. Probably have some peanuts. Possibly even order something from Sky Mall magazine. But I DO NOT want to be bothered by some nut on a crazy rant. So to any nut on a crazy rant out there—leave me alone. Sit in your dang seat and buckle up. Do not lean your chair back into my personal space. And remember, me and my Pantene are a force to be reckoned with.
And speaking of People magazine, I just love to read it, because it so often includes little articles on my favorite celebrities. People like Adam Levine. People like Brooke Shields (so what if all she’s known for now is eyelash commercials and playing Hannah Montana’s mother? She’s been a favorite of mine forever, and I’m very loyal). And people like John Mayer. Which brings me to my next point.
Did you get that?
Just in case, I’ll go slower.
John. Mayer. Followed. ME. On. Twitter. This. Week !!!!
And I wasn’t even following him. At the time. But I totally am now. Because now…we’re like this **crosses fingers to indicate super-closeness.** Because now, we’re Twitter buds. And because for one brief second in time—a second in which background music was surely playing in his head…a second in which birds were surely singing happy tunes all around him…a second in which the skies surely opened up and shed its glorious light over his sudden awareness of ME—the guy actually knew I existed. Or, more likely, (as my sister kindly pointed out) the guy’s Twitter team that he pays to keep his statuses updated knew I existed. But whatever. I don’t like to think such negative thoughts.
Because John Mayer rocks. Because John Mayer writes awesome song lyrics…the kind of song lyrics I wish I could turn into books. And because John Mayer and I are, like, friends now.
And I like to enjoy my delusional fantasies.
But alas, sadly, fantasies have a tendency to die. Much like my dishwasher the very next morning.
I mean, I was just standing there. Grabbing some coffee. Still half asleep. And then…water on the floor. An aroma in the air. An aroma laced with the scent of yuck. And none of my kids were around to blame. So then I opened the dishwasher door and…closed it right back up and called a repair man. Who came rather quickly, told me it was broken, and then said, “That’ll be one-fifty.” As in, dollars. As in, I could have diagnosed that myself. As in, are you kidding me??
So now I’m looking for a new one. Because washing dishes by hand just isn’t my thing. So even though I’m not looking forward to it, I’m buying one today. It might cost a fortune…probably more than a plane ticket.
But you don’t see me freaking out, do you?
Have an awesome Thursday!