Da plane! Da Plane!
I'm flying yesterday, body transport. Once I make sure the coffin is in the plane (ya gotta watch them load it on the tarmac), why then, it's onto the 767 and into seat 26F for your Nigel. This is that one magical seat that's by itself, on the Exit row, with no bloody ass widget sales guy from Toledo sitting next to you jawing your ear off about whatever it is he's flogging.What's fun, though, is when I am stuck next to someone and they ask me what I do for a living. If they've provided all kinds of boring info about their stupid job, well by gum I do exactly the same thing. They turn pretty green pretty fast, because I spare no detail and am really, really, really graphic about all the fluids and muck and organs and stuff.
I'm a fun guy to sit next to on the plane.
By the by, what happened to all the good looking flight attendants? Where are they working now--Hooters? My flight attendant looked like Eleanor Roosevelt on a bad hair day. Remember Braniff "air hostesses"? By God, I do, and so does what's left of my small and hollow manhood.
Finally, about planes: Tattoo, on Fantasy Island--how come the smallest guy on the island was always the first one to see the plane?
posted by Nigel St.John Regina Smegmatica Howle-Raines @ 12:42 PM
2 Comments:
I'm sure today's flight attendants were just as gorgeous back in 1970. Apparently there's been zero turnover in that industry as every American flight I've been on for the past year has been staffed by old hags.
Finland on the other hand -- there's a country with some flight attendants!
Yeah. The only kind of "dating" these girls know now is "carbon dating"...as in, let's test for your age, shall we?
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