World Airways Commercial from 1985 starring George Burns


Tuesday, August 28, 2007

Are you virgin enough for virgin america

Well, are you? Yeah, me neither. (sorry dad)

New today on tales from the pit...Well wasting time on the world wide waste of time today I was performing my customary search of available flight attendant jobs. You know, to make sure that no one has one that is better than mine. I came across the best line of a job ad that I have ever seen.

Are you virgin enough for virgin america?

Does that come in a T-shirt anyone?

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Things that I know that you should (A love story)

Dear you,

There are many things that you know that I should. But I obviously don't know them and so can not write about them, now can I? So, I find myself left only with what I know as you, rudely I might add, seem unwilling or unable to tell me what you know. So, you see, in the end everything is really your own fault. Not mine. But I still love you. I mean really, who doesn't secretly love a jealous mistress that bites?

love the bruises,

(that was the love story part)

Okay. Now to business, you slackers.

Things I know that you should
Most of which I learned while road tripping this past weekend

Thing one
When the creepy worker at McDonald's simply insists on conversing with you, even though he can plainly see that you would are trying to anonymously stuff your face in peace, DO NOT TALK BACK!! I mean it. Feign deafness or deadness, whatever works for you. But do not under any circumstances acknowledge his presence! Do not, for example, start feeling bad and assuming that you have to chat back because you think he is probably retarded. He isn't. He is just really really creepy. He will, again for example, stare longingly at your toes and ask why you aren't wearing high heels. And then he will ask you why you aren't a model and offer to take nude photos of you.

If you never ever take any other piece of advice that I give take this. Trust Me.

Thing two
Never EVER find yourself trapped for 14 hours in a putrescent smelling stadium with 20,000 other singers 19,995 of which fancy themselves R&B magicians. Trust me. This is just not good for soul and torture on the ears and mind. And really, singers don't even like singers, so why should you?

This, of course, brings me to thing three...

Thing Three
Ryan Seacrest is really, really short. Yeah, yeah, yeah, you know this. You watch The Soup. You, too, are massively in love with Joel McHale. But as short as he is, white chicks under the age of 22 are absolutely enthralled by him. Do not accidentally find yourself anywhere between him and them. They will savagely cut you down and not even smudge their over made up little acne covered faces. It's frightening. He really should bottle whatever it is and sell it. We could call it Ryan Juice. Mmm mmm gross. As I have sold my soul to the FOX corporation I am unable to tell you much else. For Now...

Thing Four
If a cute young girl adopts you at an audition and keeps telling you how sophisticated you look and that she hopes she looks as good as you in ten years when she is your age, what she is really telling you is that you are old and probably should retire already because everyone knows that it is her time to rule the world and not at all her fault that you didn't accomplish everything that you wanted before your time was up.
Thing Five
If it smokes like a chimney, is painted like a psychedelic easter egg,
has hair that defies all laws of gravity and nature, is surrounded by
frightening tomes on witchcraft and spells and mistrusts anyone that
hasn't ever lived in Montreal, DO NOT ATTEMPT TO CHARM IT. It HATES
YOU. It probably works at McDonald's and you don't even know it.

Thing Six
Sushi is probably not a car food. I guess that's why there aren't any drive through sushi stands, huh?

Thing Six
It is perfectly wonderful to take yourself on a romantic little weekend all by yourself. Who do you love more than yourself, right? Stay in a cute little inn in the country, take yourself out for a lovely little meal. Pretend that no one else exists in all the world. Laugh at your own jokes, they are the best, right? Get a little drunk and take advantage of yourself.


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Monday, August 20, 2007

Food For Thought

Do any of you find it crazy that my company spends about twice what they pay me every month in transporting me from place to place to begin work?

Unfair much?

Give me money, Damnit!

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Sunday, August 12, 2007

Poison Ivy Blows, Trust me

In case you were in a state of doubt or maybe mere ambivalence: POISON IVY BLOWS!!!

I know this as I currently have it all over my face. My eyes are puffy pools of pugnacious pustules. My mouth all a twitch with the itchies. I am perfectly hideous. Children stop and stare. Adults pretend that I don't exist. For one as ceaselessly vain as I, this is a trial of enormous proportion. I'm a damned flight attendant, for god sakes! Of course I am vain!

But on the up-side, I have an excellent reason to call out of work this month!

Pity me, don't fear me...


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Die Yuppie Scum, DIe!

Yes, yes, yes. I get it. You ARE a preferred flier. You have a zillion, billion, million frequent flier miles. You could go to mars first class and not pay a dime. If only the fool airline would start scheduled service to mars. Don't they know that Mars is the next Vegas? Well, they would, if only they would listen to you. There loss, eh?

You would quit flying them all together if any other, more reasonable airline would flew to 'the asshole of Satan,' Georgia where your boss, who doesn't possibly appreciate your gifts as they should be appreciated, insists on sending you biweekly simply because he is a bastard who likes to watch you sweat like a pig in the liquid fire summer heat. But, alas, nobody else does so you are stuck.

But if this damn airline thinks that they are going to push you around, they sure don't know you very well!

First you'll turn pink and unfocused with rage and then you will loudly explain how important your business is to this crap ass, miserable excuse for an airline all the while wildly waving your arms like an overweight ballerina in a geriatric community theater production. than will show em!

And then you will stomp about like a pinstriped baby elephant and while snorting vehemently unintelligible unkindnesses at whoever seems to be paying attention like a pregnant rhinoceros in the midst of birthing septuplets.

Oh yeah! You are SO very important! Let it all out! Let the world know. Wave it like a fricking flag!

But wait, what is it coming down the waves? Is couldn't possibly be! Why yes it is.


Okay, I know that you won't believe me, but I still feel obligated to tell you. Nobody prefers you. And I mean NOBODY. Nobody even really likes you. Certainly not your flight attendants. Probably not even your parents. You know why your boss really keeps sending you to 'the asshole of Satan,' Georgia? Because he HATES you. You should just accept this as a certainty or a just punishment for your blatant and profound ass-ishness. You are an asshole. You must be punished.

Now I'd like to provide you with a list of reasons your flight attendants hate you. You know, for your own good and all.

You, with all your free upgrades to first class are the most miserable and demanding passenger ever invented. We see you as a punishment from an angry judeo-christian god for drinking and partying too much on long layovers. That's why most of us quickly become agnostics. It's just easier. You can imagine how unbearable your personality would be when we have a hangover.

Two: Generally you are married. We know this because we can see your lily white ring tan on the finger that your wedding band sometimes lives. We generally notice this as you are asking us to meet you for a drink later on at out destination city. What you are really wondering is whether or not we will sleep with you. The answer is no. Have you seen yourself in the mirror. You really should consider naming that beer belly. it's officially at the size where it commands respect of its own. Congratulations on that.

Three: You are often a raging alcoholic. Not that many of us aren't. But we generally make pleasant drunks. It's just the customer service employee way. But you, you insist on ignoring the affects of alcohol at altitude. You get drunk and snore and demand every manner of weirdness. And finally, when your poor flight attendant invents a reasonable sounding excuse to cut you off the sauce with out offending you, you holler at her and start your preferred customer rant all over again.

I think that I am starting to develop a twitch from not rolling my eyes at you for so many hours. And no, my insurance does not cover this.

(Here's a shout out to all you underpaid, overworked waitresses, bartenders, hotel front desk employees and airline gate agents who deal with you on your interminable, unavoidable business trips. You are loved!)

From all of us to you I would like to say: You Suck!


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