NEW YEAR'S RESOLUTIONS

So.... it's New Year's Eve.  Time for Resolutions.  Yeah... APW usually doesn't do resolutions.  But this year, I'm gonna' give it a try.

In 2013, I resolve to try to be a better person. 

1.  I will try to refrain from referring to PilotHusband's "fat ass".  But, truth be told, since he quit smoking, it has grown much larger.

2.  I will no longer refer to UPSPilotBuddy's girlfriend as "the evil Canadian C&n%"... but she really is an evil Canadian C&n%.

3.  I will give up my Voodoo dolls in the shape of my In-Laws, my Mother, all the members of our Homeowners Board of Directors, and Barack Hussein Obama.  Okay... I can totally do this... but I really need to hold on to the Obama one for a few more years.  Sorry.

4.  I will ... oh crap!  That's all I've got!  Seriously!  Did you think I was gonna' say I would quit drinking wine?  Or quit bitching about PilotHusband?  Be serious, People!

Oh Hell.  I tried.  Truth be told,  New Year's Eve is for the immature.  Resolutions are for the deluded.  I will keep doing what I have always done, and I'll meet you back here next year.

Much love to all of you!  And Happy New Year!

 

HOLIDAY HINTS FOR PILOTWIVES

Since most PilotWives have to fend for themselves over the holidays, I thought I would share some hints and tips that APW has implemented over the years to make things Holly Jolly.

1.  It sucks that your PilotHusband will be gone over Christmas.  However, he is a grown-up.  He had plenty of cool Christmas mornings in his youth.  Do NOT, under any circumstances, move Christmas to accommodate your PilotHusband's schedule if your children are over the age of three.  Santa comes on Christmas Eve.  Period.  To pretend that Christmas is some other day requires you to sequester your children like OJ Jurors.  Someone will blow it.  Don't even go there.  Do Christmas on December 25th.  Take lots of videos and let Dad get his presents when he gets home.  Do not buy into his sob story.  I've done Christmas in Paris and New York.... it doesn't suck.  If your child believes in Santa, he or she comes first.  Do not blow the magic of it all.

2.  Reindeer are important.  Sure, we all leave out cookies for Santa, but the reindeer get hungry too.  Be sure to put a plate of carrots and deer corn outside before bed.

3.  If you live in a house with a fireplace, spray hairspray on the soles of a pair of boots and dust them with baby powder or fireplace ashes.  Leave a trail of footprints from the chimney to the tree.  Its sooooo tinsel!!!!

4.  To assemble bicycles, dollhouses, train sets, or anything else the requires an engineering degree, for your child to find under the tree, enlist the help of a high school boy or your neighbor's kid home from college.  They are better at that sort of thing.  Plus it gives you a chance to pull out your best "Mrs. Robinson" impersonation.  Hey!  Whatever gets the X-box installed or the Barbie DreamHouse put together!

5.  Stockings are important!  I mean the "hung by the chimney with care" kind, not the kind worn by Anne Bancroft in The Graduate.  Be sure Santa leaves something in every one's stocking.  In our house, PilotHusband always gets black dress socks in his... only because coal is hard to come by here.

Don't stress.  Christmas, by its very nature, is a perfect and beautiful thing.  I wish you all much joy and wonderment this holiday season.
 

DEAR SANTA

Dear Santa,

I have been a very good girl this year.  I only threw 3 dishes at PilotHusband all year and I even took all of my empty wine bottles to the recycling center.  I made it through 2 parent teacher conferences without putting my son's teacher in a headlock.  And I have refrained from having my crazy-ass Mother committed... although I swear to God, she's pushing it.  I have tried to be a good friend, even to the people who annoy the crap out of me.  I haven't run over my In-Laws either (but to be honest, that was more about not wanting to damage my truck).  And I rescued a kitten.

So, Big Guy, I may not be "nice"... but I haven't been "naughty" either.  Is there some alternate list or special caveat for people like me?  Seriously, even you can't expect APW to be nice.  Can we compromise?  How about a list for "As Nice As They Are Capable Of" people?  Seems fair to me.

Anyway, it's not like I have a long or complicated wish list this year (as a result of 22 years of ever lowering expectations as my PilotHusband has no idea what the inside of a mall, or a jewelry store looks like).  So, if you decide to cut me a little slack on the whole "nice" thing, here's what I want for Christmas....

1.  A new laptop, just so I can start typing in YouTube without the search history immediately sending me to YouPorn after I type the first 3 letters. 

2.  A box of bumper stickers that say "They Started It" so every time I see one of those insipid "Coexist" bumper stickers, I can cover it up.

3.  Peace on Earth.... but only after we level all of the radical extremist countries in the Middle East where they think its perfectly acceptable to shoot little girls for daring to go to school and where becoming a suicide bomber to score a couple virgins in Heaven is an adequate career goal.

4.  A KitchenAid stand mixer in red.  No, really.

5.  Botox... to erase the lines PilotHusband caused.

6.  Wine.  Something white; not too oaky; perhaps a bit on the sweet side.  (PS, if you get the box, its easier to wrap... I'm just saying.

Thanks, Mr. C.  The cookies will be in the usual spot this year.  Enjoy.  Oh yeah, please tell the Reindeer to stop pooping on the roof.  I just had the gutters cleaned.

Love,
AngryPilotWife

RULES TO LIVE BY

For those of you who follow APW on Facebook, you know that recently we had to put down our ancient, beloved cat, Norman.  Your kind words were a great comfort to me.  I was also comforted by the fact that Norman the Large lived long enough to mentor our new rescue kitten.

Here are Norman's rules for achieving Cat Awesomeness...

1.  Love your people thoroughly.

2.  Hang out with the short people at meal times.  They frequently drop yummy things on the floor.

3.  Find the square of sunshine on the floor and lay there.  As long as you look cute, no one will mind.

4.  Grooming is important.

5.  Be curious... but don't get trapped in a closet.

6.  Wait until PilotHusband leaves town before you decide his pillow is the best place to nap.

7.  Do NOT, under any circumstances, climb the Christmas tree.  Its just not worth it.

8.  Only use the sofa as a scratching post when no one else is around.

9.  Snuggle aggressively at bedtime.

10.  Respect the dog... but don't put up with any crap.

11.  Use your claws judiciously.

12.  Never over do it on the catnip.  You will look loopy and embarrass yourself.

13.  If you wipe out when trying to climb the curtains, recover quickly and act like you meant to do that.  Remember, looking cool is important.

14.  No matter how tempting, the dryer and the microwave are really bad places to hide.

15.  When in doubt, curl up in some one's lap and purr.

Actually, these are pretty good rules for everyone... except for the last one.  That could get you into trouble. 

DO YOU FLY OVER CHRISTMAS LIKE A REAL PILOT?

We have discussed the differences between being a Pilot and a REAL Pilot.  A Pilot has a job in aviation.  A REAL Pilot bleeds hydraulic fluid, thinks aircraft size is more important than penis size, and would SO bathe in a shower gel called "Prop Wash".  So, when flying over the holidays, are you a Pilot, or a REAL Pilot?  Take this simple quiz to determine if its just a job, or if you are an all- consumed, ego maniacal, God of the Skies, UBER PILOT.  Just answer "True" or "False" to the following statements and tally up your score.

1.  When I hear "Ho Ho Ho", I really hope it is in reference to my 3 Flight Attendants, and not the gentle laughter of some fat guy in a red suit.

2.  I think it is an appropriate display of Christmas spirit to refer to my male lead Flight Attendant as "Hermie the Elf" for the entire 4 day trip.

3.  I take the large tins of homemade, elaborately decorated sugar cookies my wife made for me to share with my crew and Gate Agents and eat them all myself.... except for the Santa cookies.  I just bite the heads off of those and cuss Crew Scheduling with my mouth full of sugary deliciousness.

4.  No disrespect to my ELALPilotBuddies, but I have no sympathy for Pilots who have to fly over Hanukkah.  The Festival of Light is eight days long.  Surely they will make it home for at least one day... unless they are on that 9 day Asia trip... in which case they are way more senior than me and make way more money than me, so F&%$ them.

5.  I think the Three Wise Men refers to Buzzpat, T Square, and DogWhisperer on AirlinePilotCentral.  (Sorry Boomer.... you get to be a shepherd in our Christmas pageant).

6.  When visited in the middle of the night by the ghosts of Christmas Past, Present, and Future; I told them to shut up and F&%$ Off because I had a 4:30 van time.

7.  I wear festive, non-uniform, holiday ties because either my wife was too busy decorating the house, baking cookies, assembling the toys to go under the tree, and attending the school Christmas Play to take my uniform tie to the Dry Cleaner, OR, I am on my third divorce and welcome the chance to save a few bucks on Dry Cleaning by wearing a tie I would normally never be caught dead in.

8.  I think anyone who knows every verse of The Twelve Days of Christmas should be shot on sight.

9.  Rather than help shop, decorate, or socialize in the days prior to my holiday trip, I think I should lay on the couch and watch the Military Channel.

10. I am appalled that NORAD tracks Santa's flight over Christmas Eve instead of monitoring the radical, extremist, lunatics in the Middle East on the verge on nuclear weapons.

If you answered "True"....
7-10 times:  CONGRATULATIONS!  You are a REAL Pilot!  Keep the Blue side up? Screw that!  You could fly upside-down long before Denzel Washington.

4-7 times:    You need to embrace your inner Sky God.  Remember there is no one cooler than a Pilot (except for maybe Astronauts, but most of them started out as pilots... and you could so be one if you wanted to, but you don't want to give up your seniority number).

Less than 4:  Ugh!!!  You are that guy everyone hates to fly with.  You are destined to work in management and be even more hated than you already are.

Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good flight!

NOT THE TWINKIE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Yes, friends, it's true.  The Hostess snack cake company is closing its doors and going out of business!  The makers of Twinkies, Ding Dongs, and Hostess Cupcakes shall be no more.  Like Yoda, last week when the announcement was made, I felt a violent ripple in The Force.  It was the sound of a million Stoners crying out at once (but then they laid back down to watch more SpongeBob on the Cartoon Network and forgot what they were upset about).

Why?  Oh Why?  How can this be?  Hell, if we bailed out the American Automotive Industry and Wall Street Bankers, WHY CAN'T WE SAVE THE TWINKIE?!  And no, I am NOT over-reacting!  We're talking about Ding Dongs and Twinkies here people!  THIS IS SERIOUS!  As my groovy artist friend Laura pointed out, if Twinkies and cockroaches are the only things that will survive a nuclear Holocaust.... now we're left with just cockroaches.  IT'S SO WRONG!!!

Who doesn't love Twinkies?  It's not just a snack cake... nay, it is a part of American Iconography!  It represents all that is good and right with America.  Who else could invent a yummy delicious treat that never gets stale?  This is representative of the same technology that landed us on the Moon.  TWINKIES ARE IMPORTANT!  We are talking about the same food that kept Woody Harrelson's "Tallahassee" going in the Zombie Apocalypse film, Zombieland.  It represents hope, continuity, American ingenuity, childhood, and innocence.  A life without spongy goodness around a sweet creme filling is hardly a life worth living.

I'm a Methodist who attends a small country church where Sunday attire is manure-free boots, jeans, and a clean t-shirt.  But even I know the signs of the Apocalypse.... locusts, frogs, water turning to blood.... and no more effing Twinkies!  "And behold a saw a pale horse and his name was.... Death of the Twinkie making Hostess snack cake company!!!!!"  Okay, that's not exactly how the King James Bible puts it, but I think you get my point.  Oh, the end is nigh!!!  Repent, repent, for the end of the world is upon us!

I have to go lay down under the spigot of a large box of wine and eat of box of Ring Dings now.  Maybe that will make me feel better.



 

WHAT WHINE GOES WITH TURKEY?

PilotHusband has been flying passengers professionally for 18 years now.  Given that the Wednesday through Sunday surrounding Thanksgiving Day is the busiest aviation travel period of the year, it is a given that he will have to work.  Duh. Way back when AngryPilotWife was HappyFlightAttendentGirlfriend, I knew Thanksgiving would fall somewhere in the middle of a 4 day trip, and the closest I'd get to a Thanksgiving dinner would be a turkey sandwich from Subway on Wednesday or Friday.  Its just the way it is.  You accept it... unless you are PilotHusband. 

Each year at this time, he starts to complain about being abused by scheduling.  He whines about missing Thanksgiving, yet again.  He bitches and moans about how hard he's working (keep in mind, this was the man that laid on our couch watching the Military Channel through most of September and October).  The complaints are endless.

Yet this is man who doesn't enjoy the company of extended family (actually, I'm in total agreement with him on that one).  He hates turkey... unless its the "Wild" kind that comes in a bottle.  And, much like his theories regarding Valentine's Day, he objects to Thanksgiving Day on a conceptual level, insisting it is a holiday manufactured by the Butterball Turkey Company and the Ocean Spray Cranberry Growers Conglomerate.  So what is he sooooo pissed off about?

Happy Thanksgiving to all.  I am thankful for PilotHusband, our beautiful son, loved ones, friends, and YOU, dear reader.

 

THE PERFECT STORM

On Tuesday, October 30th, we experienced "The Perfect Storm".  No, I am not talking about Hurricane Sandy... or that George Clooney movie.  I am talking about what happens when PilotHusband comes home from a red-eye flight from Brazil, commutes home, and finds an Elementary School Halloween Party going on in his house.

In my defense, "Pumpkinpalooza" was planned well in advance of his trip assignment.  Things were set in motion.  There was nothing I could do.  At 3:15,  5 boys between the ages of 6 and 10, piled off the school bus with our son, for an afternoon of pumpkin painting, pumpkin carving, and massive sugar consumption.

When PilotHusband walked in the door, every square inch of floor space was covered by Legos and Transformers.  Small painted pumpkins were happily grinning on the kitchen counter, and AngryPilotWife was, maniacally, carving very ornate Jack-o-Lanterns (think Jack Nicholson typing "All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy" in The Shining) .  Phineas and Ferb cartoons blared from the television.  There was Chaos in the Kingdom.

Like people who were told to evacuate, but chose to stay, PilotHusband tried to hang in there.  He didn't recognize the danger. And like those people who were told to leave, but didn't; it didn't work out well for PilotHusband.  He was bombarded by pumpkin pulp and seeds, covered in glitter and paint... he suffered puncture wounds on his feet from treading on small plastic toy pieces... a migraine headache... and the wrath of a pack of small children (like Lord of the Flies), when he tried to instill order.

By the end of the evening, each child, bearing 2 HUGE Jack-o-Lanterns, small painted pumpkins, and a bag of candy, departed our home... happy and joyful over the Halloween festivities.  PilotHusband was not happy.  He was short-tempered, ill-humored, and generally pissy.  What else is new?

P.S.  Please don't think that PilotHusband is not sympathetic to the storm victims.  Why, just this afternoon, we were watching news coverage of the storm's aftermath.  PilotHusband paused the broadcast, and focused on the image of a boat that landed on top of a house.  I waited for him to express sympathy, or sadness over the destruction.  Instead he said, "That boat has really nice lines.  I think its a Larson".  And I know he made a mental note to call the Larson Dealership tomorrow.
 

MOM HAS THE BEST JOB EVER

Leave it to our precious son to knock PilotHusband's ego down a notch or two.

Every year for a very long time, I have dressed up like a medieval wench and worked at the Renaissance Festival when it comes to town.  It is a great source of extra income, leading up to Christmas, and it gives me a chance to hang out with my funky groovy Wiccan friends.  Its like running away and joining a carnival, but all of the "Carnies" have degrees in Elizabethan Literature.  Since birth, our son has watched Mommy dress like a wench, a princess, and a faerie, every weekend in October and November.  Thanks to so well-played slight of hand, he believes I can turn ordinary garden rocks into polished gemstones.  My son is convinced his mother is part Faerie.  We even used my Faerie Magic and sprinkled powerful Faerie Dust around the yard to keep monsters away.

So, for a long time, PilotHusband has had to deal with the fact that he may fly big jets across the frozen North Atlantic, but he's no Faerie.  Mythical woodland magical creatures win over Jet Jockeys every time!  Come on!  Mommy has a friend that's a Centaur, and a friend with a baby dragon.  I hate to quote Charlie Sheen, but... "WINNING".

And now... I have just made things worse for PilotHusband.  In addition to my seasonal duties as a wench/princess/faerie, I started a new job.  During the week, I am now building parade floats used in College Homecoming, Thanksgiving, and Christmas parades in four states.  I showed my son pictures of the floats his Mommy had built and he announced "Coolest job EVER"!  It was then that PilotHusband reminded our 6 year old that he flies big planes to Paris, Madrid, and Rome.  And our precious child responded, "Yeah, but are you part faerie AND work in Santa's workshop making Christmas floats?  No Dad, I don't think so.".  Again, I say... WINNING!

P.S.  PilotHusband burst the button off of his new shorts.  He blamed it on the hard water from our well, degrading the thread.  After a month of laying on the couch, drinking beer and eating the child's chicken nuggets and ice cream (while watching the Military Channel), he is pushing maximum density (if you know what I mean).  I agreed that it must be our hard water that caused his button to fly across the room.  After all, I may be Medieval, but I'm not completely evil :)

TOILET PAPER AND SOAP

PilotHusband has been home for 21 straight days now.  Let that sink in for a moment.... 21 days in a row of watching him lay on the couch, drink beer, and watch the Military Channel.  I did NOT sign up for this.  This marriage works because for the past 17 years, one of us leaves every week!  So besides the obvious tension in the house, another phenomenon has occurred.... we ran out of toilet paper, soap, and shampoo.

Ever since PilotHusband's first overnight as a professional Pilot, we have not had to purchase toilet paper, soap, or shampoo.  At every hotel, each week, PilotHusband took the toilet paper, tiny bars of soap, and little bottles shampoo, home with him.  If the housekeeping cart was left unattended.... he stocked up.  So for 17 years, I have had to enjoy/endure single ply toilet paper, tiny bars of hotel soap, and minuscule bottles of shampoo.

Obviously, after 3 weeks at home, our supplies ran out.  For the first time in 17 years, I had to go to the market and purchase toilet paper.  WOW!  Do you know how many kinds of toilet paper are available?  There's toilet paper with ridges, toilet paper with aloe and vitamin E, toilet paper that is made, entirely, from recycled content.  I was overwhelmed.  Should I buy the squeezably soft kind, the environmentally friendly kind, the moisturized kind.... the possibilities were endless.

After 20 minutes in the toilet paper department, I moved on to soap.  Holy Shamoly!  Have you been in the soap aisle lately?  The bars are HUGE!  There were moisturizing bars, antibacterial bars, anti aging bars, scented bars, unscented bars.... I began to shut down.  Too many choices, after years of deprivation, got the best of me.

Next, I had to endure purchasing shampoo.  WTF?  Do I have oily hair?  Dry hair?  Frizzy hair?  Damaged hair?  Hard to manage  hair?  Itchy scalp hair?  Dandruff?  I don't know!  For 17 years I have washed my hair with whatever came out of the little tiny bottle that came out of PilotHusband's suitcase and found it's way into my shower.

No disrespect to the people of Sweden, but clearly, I have Stockholm Syndrome.  There are too many choices regarding toilet paper, soap, and shampoo.  PilotHusband REALLY has to go back to work.  I can't handle another trip to the market.

REAL PILOTS DON'T LIKE CHANGE

As a species, Air Line Pilots do not like change.  If you are a real pilot, you do not like words like "spontaneity" or "novelty".  Rather, if you are a real pilot, you embrace words like "homeostasis" and "status quo".  You would think that, given they fly with a different crew each trip and overnight in a different city each day, they would be more flexible.  But no.  Perhaps it is in reaction to the constant change required by their careers, that they are so resistant to change.

Here are just a few examples to prove my point...

Bob doesn't like change.  Not too long ago, I was working on PilotHusband's displacement bids (you didn't expect him to do it himself, did you?).  I reviewed every aircraft in every base for the lowest seniority number holding each position.  That's when I discovered "Captain Bob".  Bob is number 54 out of 12,243 pilots.  Bob could be a very senior line-holding Captain on the whale- the 747.  Bob could hold a very senior Captain's line on ANY aircraft, in ANY base.  But Bob doesn't like change.  Bob probably upgraded to Captain on the DC-9 in 1978... in Memphis.... and he never left.  Eventually, Bob's Air Line closed the Memphis crew base... and Bob kept showing up, in uniform, with his rollerboard, long after the planes were gone.  As I write this, Bob is sitting in the basement of the Memphis airport, smoking cigarettes, and wondering why his release isn't ready yet.  REAL PILOTS DON'T LIKE CHANGE.

Dave doesn't like change.  "Captain Dave" retired in 2010.  As he taxied to the gate for the last time, his got the shower of water from the airport firetrucks.  He got the crappy sheet cake in the crew room.  He got the crappy Retirement Package.  Dave was home for about three weeks when he awoke one morning, put on his uniform, packed his suitcase, kissed his wife, and left for four days.  While she knew he was retired, "Captain Dave's" wife did not question him as she was getting weary of having him at home every day.  Since that first post-retirement "trip", Dave dons his uniform, packs his bag, kisses his wife, and leaves for four days, each and every week.  His wife does not know where "Captain Dave" goes; his wife does not care where "Captain Dave" goes.  Eventually, Dave will run out of HiltonHonors points and have to face reality,but until then, everyone is happily enjoying the status quo.  REAL PILOTS DON'T LIKE CHANGE.

Steve doesn't like change.   "Captain Steve" flew for TWA for 30 years before his airline was bought by American Airlines.  Alas, TWA was fully absorbed by AA and was TWA no more.  But you couldn't convince "Captain Steve" of that.  When his new American Airlines uniform arrived, Steve put in in the back of the closet.  No, he still wore his TWA uniform.  He got away with it for about 6 months before he was summoned to the Chief Pilot's Office.  When Steve made PA announcements to the passengers to welcome them on board he would say "Welcome aboard TWA flight 123 to Dallas.  We've got great flying weather, so sit back, relax, and let our TWA Flight Attendants take care of you.  Once again, thanks for flying TWA".  Of course confusion and panic erupted in the cabin.  Confused infrequent fliers thought they had boarded the wrong flight.  Steve was once again was summoned to the Chief Pilot's Office.  After his (highly encouraged) retirement, there was that unfortunate incident when "Captain Steve" went to a local travel agent to purchase tickets for a family vacation.  He was charged with assault when the agent could not secure him first class tickets on TWA.  The charges were later dropped because everybody knows... REAL PILOTS DON'T LIKE CHANGE.

So before you decide to repaint the living room a new color, redecorate the bedroom, or change your hair color while your PilotHusband is on a trip; beware.  You may upset his delicate sense of balance in the Universe because REAL PILOTS DON'T LIKE CHANGE.

PILOTHUSBAND'S QUESTIONABLE WISDOM

Sometimes, when PilotHusband begins to speak, I surrender to the irresistible compulsion to say, in my best Forest Gump voice, "I'm not a smart man, Jen-nie".  Its not that he is an uneducated man.  In fact, he attended one of the top ranked, private, Southern, Liberal Arts Colleges.  He double majored in History and Political Science.  He was named to the Dean's List.  He is well travelled, and well read.  But sometimes when he opens his mouth, I just have to say "WTF?".  Here's some PilotHusband wisdom he has shared with me recently.

"Do you think Neil Armstrong was sober when he landed on the moon?  Hell no!  I can assure you he mixed vodka in his Tang!"
(Ummm... APW is pretty certain Neil Armstrong was completely sober when he took one giant leap for mankind).

"If I'm too lazy to memorize the last line of the eye chart, I don't deserve to have 20/20 vision".
(If you have to memorize the last line of the eye chart, you don't ACTUALLY have 20/20 vision).

"You eat pancakes, or oatmeal, for breakfast.  Beer is no different.  It has wheat, barley, rye, and hops.  Hell!  Its a good source of fiber, if you ask me".
(Wow.  I can't even respond to that one).

"I'm not interrupting you.  I know you so well, I can finish your sentences for you; so there is no need for you to speak further".
(Yeah... about that.... ahhhh... NO!  You have no idea what I am trying to say.  That's why I have to repeat myself 14 times before you actually can process what I am trying to tell you).

PilotHusband will be home for at least another 18 days.  I'm sure he'll have more pearls of wisdom to share.



****** PilotHusband got home from his last trip on September 24th.  He is not scheduled back on duty until October 22nd.  Do the math!  I'm not sure what the rules are regarding betting pools on the Internet.  But if anyone wants to chime in on the comment board, or my email (you can link to it under my profile page) and wager a guess as to when AngryPilotWife finally snaps, please do so.  Whoever comes closest to the exact day and time that I totally loose it, will receive an APW refrigerator magnet.

(For those of you with an upcoming Medical.... the last line of the eye chart is V K Z C R)
You're welcome.




 

THE ZOMBIE APOCALYPSE

I make no secret of the fact that I am one of those geeks that loves all things Zombie.  I have seen every zombie movie ever made.  For those of you seeking recommendations; Day of the Dead, Shaun on the Dead, and Zombieland are personal favorites.  For all of you aviators out there, I recently discovered Flight of the Dead about a weaponized zombie virus that is accidentally released in the cargo hold of a jet plane, requiring the Pilots and Cabin Crew to battle the Undead at 30,000 feet.  I watch The Walking Dead TV series religiously and participate in discussion groups analyzing how the series strays from the original comic.. er, I mean, graphic novel.  I have read World War Z by Max Brooks (okay, I've read it five times... with a highlighter) and purchased the audio book (which effing rocks!).  Hey!  I've already admitted to being a geek!

In spite of my love for zombie Apocalypse scenarios, its not like I am preparing for one.... until now.  I recently stopped at a Walmart in Mocksville NC one evening.  The patrons of this particular Walmart had me concerned.  They all had the shuffling unsteady gait and vacant blank expression that is the hallmark of Zombie virus infection or the consumption of copious amounts of Haldol, or some other equally powerful anti-psychotic medication.  Either way, it wasn't good.

All I needed was a gallon of milk, and a bag of dog food.  Unfortunately, these items were located in opposite ends of the store.  As the other customers clumsily staggered about, drooling slightly, smelling like the undead (or the unwashed), I hastily grabbed a shopping cart thinking I could use it to mow down some of the "Walkers" if they attacked.  Rather than go straight for the dog food at the back corner of the store, I went to the hunting department and selected a crossbow.  Then I made a quick pass through sporting goods and picked up an aluminum baseball bat.  Finally, I made my way to the housewares department for a new meat cleaver.

Fully armed to battle the Undead (if necessary), I picked up a gallon of milk and a bag of Dog Chow.  I rapidly made my way to the express checkout lane, weaving in and out of the walking dead.  With a quick swipe of my credit card, I ran from the store, threw my purchases in my truck, and sped out of the parking lot.

Now I just have to find a way to explain the crossbow, baseball bat, and meat cleaver to PilotHusband.

 

NOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

AngryPilotWife met PilotHusband when we attended the same college.  It was August of 1990... and we have been together ever since.  Its been 22 years, and 25 days (not that anyone is counting, mind you).  I COULD HAVE KILLED A MAN, AND GOTTEN OFF WITH LESS TIME!  People have asked me, "How do you keep a relationship going for so long?".  The answer is simple.... he leaves.  That is the beauty, the foundation, the life-spring, the glue, that keeps us together.  PilotHusband leaves on a trip, giving me enough time to recover from everything he did to piss me off when he was home.  PilotHusband leaves on a trip to  give me enough time to start missing him.  PilotHusband leaves on a trip to allow me to fall back, regroup, and maintain my sanity.  It may sound dysfunctional, but it works for us.

Alas, dear readers, I fear the worst.  The Perfect Storm is upon us.  Just like the remnants of a hurricane merging with a nor'easter that sunk George Clooney and Mark Wahlberg, the seas are getting rough.  PilotHusband has been home for 10 days.  I did not sign up for that.  No one in scheduling asked me if that was okay (because it is most definitely NOT okay. people!).  Perhaps he will get a trip this weekend, but after that.... the ultimate storm is coming.  At the end of this month, PilotHusband has 2 days off, followed by 7 primary vacation days, followed by 7 secondary vacation days, FOLLOWED BY 5 REGULAR DAYS OFF... giving us a grand total of 21 days off in a row.  Really?  REALLY?  REALLY?

Just how many hours of the Military Channel do you think I can sit through?  I can already give you the full biography of all of "Hitler's Henchmen" and identify their medals.  I can identify 15 different tanks by their silhouette.  I can break down and reassemble an M16.  I have pages of dialogue memorized from Band of Brothers, A Bridge Too Far, Kelly's Heroes, Where Eagles Dare, The Dirty Dozen, and The High and the Mighty.

No disrespect to my boys at AirlinePilotCentral.com, but Mama needs a little computer time too.  If PilotHusband is home for 21 days straight, APW will have to go on hiatus because what could be more important than what Buzzpat, Tsquare, Forgot to Bid, Boomer, DogWhisperer, HoserPilot, Ferd, Scambo, 80 KTS, and Wasatch have to say?

This is a nightmare of EPIC proportions!  Is there not a bean counter at the Air Line who can weigh the risk of leaving a pilot at home for 21 days versus the insurance payout and cost of retraining a replacement when the wife finally snaps?  I'm just sayin'.

A TRIP TO THE ZOO

Recently, AngryPilotWife, PilotHusband, and our 6 year old son, took a trip to the North Carolina Zoo.  This was a miracle because it required PilotHusband to not only turn off the Military Channel and get off the sofa, but also drive over two hours to get there.  Pilothusband does not drive anywhere but the Charlotte airport.  I took great pleasure in counting which one of my two "boys" said "How much further?" the most.  Final score: six year old, 22 times.  PilotHusband, 46 times.

The zoo was fun.  But somewhere between the lions and the gorilla exhibit, I got a bad case of the giggles.  I suddenly got this image of a habitat for Air Line Pilots and I couldn't shake it.  Just imagine it!

The pilot habitat would be presented in two sections.  In the first, pilots would be viewed in their natural home habitat... laying on the couch, drinking beer, watching Fox News in the morning and the Military Channel for the rest of the day.  Visiting school children could purchase small bottles of Leffe from food dispensers to feed the pilots.  Oh how they would squeal with delight when one of the pilots actually moved off of the sofa to check AirlinePilotCentral on the computer.  I can hear it now... "Mommy! Did you see that one move?"

In the next viewing area, pilots could be displayed in their work habitat.  I envision a crew room with happy chubby pilots laying in LazyBoy chairs watching FoxNews.  How delighted zoo visitors will be when a pilot occasionally gets up to check in on the computer or scratch something.  In this viewing area, children could purchase small cups of hot sauce from a dispenser to feed the pilots.  The pilots could add the hot sauce to the food court fare provided by the zookeepers, much to the delight of onlookers.  And what a magical moment it would be to actually witness a silverback pilot showing off his new Rolex to the rest of the herd!

At the end of our adventure, I purchased a membership to the NC Zoological Society.  I can't wait to fill out the suggestion card!

WHAT DO YOU DO WITH A WOMAN LIKE MARIA?

Have ya'll seen FATAL ATTRACTION?  You know, that movie with Glenn Close who has the affair with Michael Douglas, and then goes nuts and boils the family's pet bunny on the stove and tries to kill Anne Archer, his wife?  (It should be mandatory viewing for anyone with a penis... I'm just sayin').  You may think this is a great work of fiction by some Hollywood screenwriter, but psycho-chicks do exist.  I mean they REALLY exist... not like Bigfoot, the Loch Ness Monster, the second gunman on the grassy knoll, secret messages in The Catcher in the Rye, or UFOs.  I mean they REALLY REALLY exist.  This is not some urban legend crafted by wives to keep their husbands in line.

By now you know AngryPilotWife is all-knowing.  If you think I get pissy with my PilotHusband, you should read the private emails I get from other PilotWives out there.  This is not gossip.  It is presented as a cautionary tale, because you know I love all my pilot readers out there, and I would hate for you to come home and find Fluffy simmering on the stove.  Sooo...

There is a fairly senior Flight Attendant, at a Legacy carrier, who (allegedly) will get you liquored up on an overnight, drag you back to her room, and (allegedly) screw you silly.  Now one may think, "What happens in Amsterdam, stays in Amsterdam", however, this crazy b!tch (allegedly) demands your cell phone number and your schedule so she can non-rev to your next overnight to continue the "relationship".  If you try to decline, she (allegedly) will threaten to contact your wife.  Even if you comply, eventually, she will feel like she is not getting enough attention, and (allegedly) call you at home and contact your wife, anyway.

No matter how you try to appease this Amazonian psycho-stew, she will (allegedly) bust you.  Then you will end up being dragged to the doctor's office, by your wife, to be tested for "everything"... which requires having a swab shoved two inches up your weenie (Oh yes!  I went there! Cringe away!).  If the Doctor is sympathetic to your spouse, he or she will "accidentally" drop the swab on the floor, forcing you to endure this medieval torture a second time.  And after months of embarrassing couples therapy, you will still end up living in a van, down by the river.

I am not naive.  I know that couples can grow apart.  People fall out of love.  Relationships end.  That's unfortunate, but it happens.  Just beware of having that decision made for you.  Amazonian, senior, married Flight Attendants, from North Carolina, who bed you on overnights, may (allegedly) go all Fatal Attraction on you and totally screw up your universe.  And if you smell rabbit stew... RUN, BROTHER, RUN!!!!!!!!

 

HOW TO LOSE YOUR DEBIT/CREDIT CARD LIKE A REAL PILOT

(This one goes out to "JustDoin'MyJob" at Airline Pilot Central.  No Sir, PilotHusband has NOT been behaving himself.  Quite the contrary.  So, tonight I am unleashing my AngryPilotWife wrath.  "Herman" may need to couch surf with one of ya'll before the week's out).

So... back to How to Lose Your Debit Card like a Pilot:

Step One:    Tell your Wife to go to grocery store and the liquor store even though she has been clearing brush and mowing your yard all day long (while you've been laying on the couch watching the Military Channel).  Tell her to take your bank card.

Step Two:    Act surprised when your bank card is not in your wallet.

Step Three:   Accuse your Wife of already removing said bank card from your wallet.

Step Four:    Blame your Wife for the missing bank card, because if she had gotten a secondary card to your account (which requires your signature, in person, at the bank, which you haven't done), it wouldn't matter if you lost your card, because she would still have one.

Step Five:    Have your Wife pull up your bank statement to see where your card was used last.

Step Six:      (This one is VERY important)  Decide which charges your are going to own up to and which one's you are going to deny any knowledge of.  Our conversation went something like this;
APW:  There's a charge for the Comfort Inn in Detroit on the 25th.
PH:  Yep, that was when I sat short call.
APW:  Well, what about this $47 charge at Bob's Grill in Sarasota FL?
PH:  Oh, that's when the Captain and I went out to dinner.
APW:  Here's a $62 charge at a liquor store in Bradenton FL.
PH:  Hmmmm... um... well... I don't recall that one.  It seems suspicious.
APW:  What about this $276 charge at some place called The Gentleman's Club?  And this $235 charge at someplace called the Boob Barn?  And $119 at Hooter's?
PH:  ..... Damn, Baby!   Someone must have stolen my card!!!!

Step Seven:  Have your Wife call the bank/credit card company.  Take the phone from your Wife and tell the call center representative what a very important person you are and insist that your card be cancelled immediately.

Step Eight:   Act surprised when your Wife finds your card in the pocket of the shorts you wore on your last trip.

Step Nine:  Get pissed off at your Wife because she didn't find your card before you insisted that the bank cancel it.

Step Ten:  Retreat to the couch and watch the Military Channel.

HOLY CRAP! I NEED A MARGARITA!

Okay.  I admit, AngryPilotWife is usually known for guzzling mass quantities of not-too-oaky-white-wine.  But today, I am switching my drink of choice to tequila.... specifically Sauza Blue Agave Tequila Margaritas.  Have you seen the ad???   It features a shirtless fireman, mixing the perfect Margarita, with a fuzzy little kitten.  Hello?  You had me at shirtless fireman!  And he likes kittens!  Can you say, "THE MOST PERFECT MAN EVER"?  Holy Crap!  I am speechless... and very little ever leaves me speechless.  Check out the link on my FaceBook page to view the firefighter in all his glory.  And yes, I like mine with a bit of salt.  You can decide if I meant I like salt on my Margarita, or my fireman ;)

(Oh hell.  I am gonna' pay for this when PilotHusband gets home!  But in my defense, the fireman is really pretty and the kitty is just soooo cute).

I MARRIED A FOURTEEN YEAR OLD GIRL

No. No. No.  This is not a tale of forbidden love in the Appalachian Mountains of West Virginia!  What I mean to say is, life with PilotHusband, is becoming more and more like living with a teen aged girl.   Really.  At this rate, its only a matter of time before there are Justin Bieber posters hanging on my walls.

Last night, I needed to use the phone to return a friend's call.  PilotHusband was on the phone with his BFF (best friend forever, for those of you not hip to the vernacular of the teen girl).  Two hours, five dirty looks, and a "Get off the F-ing phone" later, he was till chatting away.  And trust me on this... PilotHusband does not have 2 hours worth of interesting things to talk about.  By the time he finally got off the phone, it was too late for decently mannered folks to place a call.

Then we need to consider the time spent in front of the mirror.  Sure, for the teen girl, mirror time involves acne assessment and perfecting the newest popular hairstyle.  For PilotHusband, it involves the quest to rid himself of unwanted ear and nose hair.  However, PilotHusband logs just as many hours in front of the looking glass as any reader of Seventeen Magazine.

Let's talk about social interaction, shall we?  Evidently PilotHusband's full time job is not actually aviation.  It is FaceBook.  I would expect men to judge each other by the size of their equipment (interpret that any way you choose; did APW mean aircraft, or something else?).  But when your PilotHusband is actually a teen age girl in disguise, you judge each other by the number of FaceBook friends you have.

Later tonight we're going to listen to The Jonas Brothers and One Direction while we paint our toenails!

Thank you,  thank you, thank you, kind readers!  AngryPilotWife's blog has hit 50,000 views and has been read in over 90 countries!  I am pleased that you find humor (and solace) here.  Please continue to share the blog with your friends and coworkers.  Don't forget to check out AngryPilotWife on FaceBook for great videos.  Oh yeah, hit the "Like" button, will ya'?  My self-esteem could use the boost.

Much Love to All!
APW

THERE'S A FRIEND FOR THAT

It occured to me today, as I sat with one of my dearest friends, sipping Starbucks, chatting away, that women and PilotHusbands are very different when it comes to friends.  AngryPilotWife has lots of different types of friends.  Some are good at shopping, some are good at advice, some are deep thinkers, and some are the type that get their bra stuck in the ceiling fan blades until it is propelled out the window, into the shrubbery below (sorry, Angie).  Here's a list of the different types of friends AngryilotWife has.... and the PilotHusband Buddy equivalent.

APW HAS "THE MARTHA STEWART FRIEND":  I have a friend who is a genius at baking and cooking and entertaining.  If you have unexpected company show up for dinner and all you have is a can of salmon. pickles, mayo, and stale bread, she can coach you through preparing a dill infused salmon mousse.  (PilotHusband has UnitedPilotBuddy, who makes a pretty good salsa.)

APW HAS "THE GOOD ADVICE FRIEND":  This is the woman I can call and share any drama with her, and after she listens thoughtfully, she asks me pointed questions to guide me down the right path.  (PilotHusband has DHLPilotBuddy, who listens to him and then says "Dude, what the hell were you thinking?)

APW HAS "THE FUNDRAISER FRIEND":  Yes, I get sucked in to every Tupperware Party, and Pampered Chef Party she throws, but any time my child has to sell something for some school fundraiser, I can send him to her door, knowing she will purchase $40 worth of cookies, wrapping paper, candy bars, or whatever other crap the kids are selling.  (PilotHusband has UPSPilotBuddy who frequently buys a round or two, or three, or twelve)

APW HAS "THE SEX IN THE CITY FRIEND":  We can sit around at any restaurant and discuss our sex lives in graphic detail, laughing all the way.  (PilotHusband has ContinentalPilotBuddy who says "Dude, did you tap that?"  Then Pilot Husband says "no", and ContinentalPilotBuddy says "yeah, me neither")

APW HAS THE "HANDY FRIEND":  This is the friend that knows how to install a ceiling fan, connect a new dishwasher, and had teen aged sons that will help you move furniture.  (PilotHusband has FedExPilotBuddy that tells him who to hire to do everything for him).


APW HAS "THE I'LL GET THE SHOVEL, YOU GET THE BLEACH FRIEND":  The greatest compliment ever bestowed on APW was when one of my friends said, "If I needed to call someone to help me dispose of a body, you'd be the first number I dialed".  Some friends will help you through extraordinary circumstances.  (PilotHusband has.... no equivalent)

No person can be all things to all people.  Respect and appreciate your friends for what they do best and what they, uniquely, contribute to your life.

APW IS HAVING A BAD DAY

Okay.  AngryPilotWife is having a really bad day.  One of those "Why the hell did I get out of bed?" sort of days.  Its been the sort of day that makes you want to have a mental breakdown, go into a psychogenic fugue state, change your name, fake your death, and split the country... just like Elvis did. 

So... do me a favor?  Check out AngryPilotWife on Facebook and hit the "like" button.  I need the self-esteem boost.  Besides, there's some really great videos you can check out.

I promise more snarky PilotHusband bashing humor once I get over myself... and finish this bottle of Pinot Grigio.

WHAT I SAY... WHAT PILOTHUSBAND HEARS

As we have already established, communicating with a PilotHusband can be difficult.  They speak in quotes from "guy movies" like some secret code requiring an Enigma machine to decipher.  They are genetically engineered to ignore the sound of a woman's voice, unless broadcast over a radio by the control tower.  They, like the family dog, have selective hearing.  Our dog doesn't hear me bellow her name when she's in hot pursuit of a rabbit, but she can hear a potato chip hit the floor on the other side of the house.  PilotHusbands cannot hear the garage door go up, you slamming the door, or you struggling to carry bags of groceries.  But they can hear the sound of a can of beer being opened from 1000 meters away.

Recently, I discovered yet another barrier to effectively communicating with a PilotHusband.  Even if he manages to hear words come out of my mouth, by the time those words travel from his auditory canal, into his skull, and ricochet around that squirrley brain of his, what I actually said is COMPLETELY different from what my PilotHusband heard. 

Here's a list of statements I have made... and what PilotHusband heard instead.

WHAT I SAID:         Don't forget, I wrote a check to Mr. Gunderson for fixing the truck.
WHAT HE HEARD:  I checked, and there's plenty of money left over this month for that new gun
                               you wanted to buy, Sweetheart.

WHAT I SAID:         Get off me.  You smell like beer and you're all sweaty.
WHAT HE HEARD:  I'd really like you to get me off.  Let's get hot and sweaty, Sweetheart.

WHAT I SAID:          I think you're pushing the structural limitations of your uniform pants.
WHAT HE HEARD:  You look so sexy in uniform, Sweetheart.

WHAT I SAID:         Get off your ass and get your own damn beer.
WHAT HE HEARD:  Damn, you're hot.  I'd love to fetch you a cold beer.  You have a nice ass,
                               Sweetheart.

WHAT I SAID:          It'll be a cold day in Hell before I let your crazy Mother in this house again.
WHAT HE HEARD:  I'm crazy about your Mother.  Let's have her come to the house for lunch.  I'll
                              make a cold cut platter, Sweetheart.

WHAT I SAID:          Isn't it time for your ass to leave on a trip?
WHAT HE HEARD:  Would you like a piece of ass?  I hope you don't have to leave soon.  I miss
                              you when you are on a trip, Sweetheart.

WHAT I SAID:         You need to mow the lawn.
WHAT HE HEARD:  ..........

Alas, its kind of a lost cause.  Stay tuned for stuff PilotHusband says, and what he actually means, instead.

FREE HAIRCUTS

For the past several months, PilotHusband has been making me cut his hair at home, instead of his usual bi-monthly trips to the barber.  No, I am not a hair dresser... no, I do not work in a salon... I run a construction company.  But cutting his hair is not that hard to do.  I use a simple #2 blade with the clippers (the same clippers I use on the dog) around the back and sides, trim over his ears, and trim the top ever so slightly.  Ironically, the dog is better and holding still (and not bitching) than PilotHusband... but we get through it.  I keep threatening to shave an obscene word in the back of his hair... but we get through it.

Lately, after his "free" haircut, PilotHusband has taken to bragging to me about how much money he is saving by NOT going to the Barber anymore.  He's even figured out how much money, annually, he is saving, including his customary tip.  WRONG!

You see, every time PilotHusband makes me cut his hair,  I remove all of the cash from his wallet.  That's usually somewhere between 40 and 60 dollars.  Then, if he was especially bitchy while I was doing it (constantly reminding me how to cut his hair, what length the sides need to be, how to shave the back of his neck etc.) I write myself a check out of his bank account, and deposit it into mine.  And, if he makes me cut his hair when I get home after a long arduous day at work, when he doesn't even have a trip the next day, I remove his debit card from his wallet and go shopping.

A trip to the Barber .... $20 including tip.
Making your AngryPilotWife cut your hair.... PRICELESS.

WE ARE NOT THAT STUPID

(for Laura)

Ummm, Boys?  You know that AngryPilotWife loves each and every one of you.  I appreciate the dedication to safety and the professionalism of all the SkyKings, UberAviators, and Gods of the Stratosphere, out there. 

Having said that, WILL YOU PLEASE KEEP IT IN YOUR PANTS!?!?  Again, I come to you out of love and respect.  But keep in mind, it is called "AngryPilotWife".  Therefore, I get e-mails from fellow AngryPilotWives, ReallyPissedOffPilotWives, IHateHisGutsPilotWives, and a few from AboutToCastrateTheLyingCheating SOBPilotWives.  Just giving you a head's up.

I'm just trying to help a Brother out.  Let's review a few things so you don't end up living in a van, down by the river...

1.   We can see your cell phone bill details.  You leave town for half the month and put us in charge of paying all the bills.  Duh.  We can pull up the usage details and track the call history and text messages.

2.   You are NOT James Bond.  Do not get a second super-secret cell phone that you think we won't find.  We will.  You will have no valid explanation for it and it will not be pretty.  Just don't go there.

3.  We can see your debit/credit card charges.  Really?  Do you honestly think we will believe you when you tell us that there's a Victoria's Secret charge on your credit card because you went shopping with a Flight Attendant, and her card wouldn't work, so you put it on your card and she reimbursed you with cash? 

4.  We know how many pills come in a Viagra/Cialis prescription.  We know how many you have used with us.  We can do math.  Enough said.

My PilotHusband is an idiot, hence the blog.... he has set fire to the yard, set fire to the condo, dyed my clothes pink, and screwed up Valentine's Day for 22 years, but he is loyal.  Please remember, as he does, that PilotWives must be strong and independent as you are gone so much, but they are deserving of love and respect when you are home.  Enough said. 

(Please don't chew me up on the comments.... I know most of you are good guys.  Just trying to do right by everybody).

COPERNICUS HAD IT ALL WRONG

Copernicus, the famed Polish Astronomer who first postulated that the Earth revolves around the Sun, had it all wrong.  Everybody knows that the Air Line Pilot is the true center of the Universe, around which, all things revolve!  Here are just a few examples, provided by my PilotHusband, to prove that everything revolves around the Air Line Pilot.

On the rare occasion, PilotHusband has to get on the 6:00 a.m. flight, he starts to complain about it at 11:00 a.m. the previous day.   When our five year old (who is learning to tell time) asks me what time the clock says, PilotHusband shows our son what time it currently is, and then shows him what time Daddy has to get up in the morning.   If our son asks what time dinner will be ready, PilotHusband shows him dinner time on the clock, and then what time Daddy has to get up in the morning.  When PilotHusband asks me what time I am working until tomorrow, I tell him what time I expect to be home, and then wait patiently for him to explain what time He has to get up in the morning.  It's all about PilotHusband because he is the true center of the Universe.

If PilotHusband has a sore throat, everyone else in the house must vacate the sofa and all claim to the remote control so that PilotHusband can recuperate because nothing soothes a sore throat like laying on the couch watching the Military Channel.  PilotHusband must be waited on as he is far too weak and infirmed to walk to fetch his own orange juice, jello, tissues, cell phone, or blankie.  PilotHusband will also insist you call tv's Dr. House because he is certain that his sore throat is either the start of Hemorrhagic Fever, Polio, or some yet to be named disease.  You cannot leave the house (unless it's to go to the store to get more jello), run the vacuum, talk on the phone, or anything else that may inhibit your ability to care for "Patient Zero" because PilotHusband is the true center of the Universe.

When dinner time comes, PilotHusband always gets a second helping of everything, whether he can finish it or not.  He won't think twice about loading his plate up with seconds, or thirds.  He scrapes the serving bowls dry, then finishes just a fraction of what he put on his plate.  The only problem is that he renders that food unsuitable for anyone else in the house, including the dog, because he covers everything with copious amounts of hot sauce.  It doesn't matter if you would have enjoyed just another small serving of mashed potatoes because the Universe revolves around PilotHusband.

When PilotHusband wants to talk on the phone with one of his PilotBuddies (why would he talk to anyone else?) he will usual make himself comfortable in the same room in which you are trying to watch a movie.  He will hit the mute button, so that your show doesn't disturb him.  It doesn't matter that its a CORDLESS telephone.  Why should he go anywhere else?  We must stop what we are doing to enable PilotHusband to talk to PilotBuddy because the world revolves around PilotHusband.

Clearly I am NOT exaggerating.  MIT's Physics Department, NASA, Dr Michio Kaku, Stephen Hawking, and some guys from Area 51 are coming over next week for brunch.  I have a sneaking suspicion, its not a social call.

THE PILOT AND THE KITTEN

Okay, I admit, I go overboard on furry (and not so furry) creatures. We have a 120lb dog, a cat, a lizard,  a goldfish, a beta fish, 4 minnows, and a herd of deer that arrives each evening, expecting food.  In the winter, we have 6-8 raccoons, 2 opossums, and a fox that show up on the front porch for handouts each night. They all have names and are hand fed.  Then you have to factor in the two feral cats that I feed that bare liters of kittens under our porch each Spring, that I bring into the house and raise until they can be adopted.  I am Dr. Doolittle. 

If you are an animal lover, you probably think I am pretty cool.  If you are PilotHusband, you do not.  PilotHusband is not an animal lover.  He doesn't even like the goldfish that come in the little snack boxes from Mother D catering!  So, you can imagine the conflict that occurred several weeks ago when flooding rains drove a wee kitten onto our back porch.  It was hardly two weeks old, and soaked to the bone.  Of course, I brought it in and bottle fed it milk and syringe fed it pureed chicken baby food every few hours until it regained strength.  Our young son named the kitten QT (cutie, get it?) and became very attached to it.  Knowing PilotHusband's dislike for all things small, cute, and fuzzy, I took the kitten to work with me each day. At night, she stayed in the bathroom, safe from the very big dog and very big cat that already lived with us.  I also explained to our child that we were just going to get the kitten big enough and healthy enough to be adopted, and we would find her a nice family to live with.  Eventually, QT gained strength, began eating regular kitten food, and made friends with the dog and the cat.  We allowed her to roam freely around the house.

PilotHusband sighed.  PilotHusband stomped.  PilotHusband put together strings of curse words I had never heard combined in such a manner.  PilotHusband was very very very angry.  Then PilotHusband got sleepy so he laid on the couch to watch the Military Channel.  That's when it happened!  The kitten jumped on the couch, curled up next to PilotHusband's chest and watched Wings Over the Pacific, while purring loudly.  The kitten not only liked airplanes, but was a fan of the Military Channel!

I arrived home from work that day to find PilotHusband talking to the kitten, feeding it bits of Salmon.  "This is the coolest cat EVER!" he proclaimed.  Then the two of them settled back on the couch to watch The High and The Mighty together.  So, QT the cat is now a permanent member of the family, and PilotHusband's new Best Friend.  What a sucker!

HOW TO SEDUCE A WOMAN LIKE A PILOT

Ah, the art of seduction.  The topic has been examined by Ovid, Shakespeare, Masters and Johnson, Barry White, and far greater and more sensitive minds than mine.  But all of the pontificators of romance, have overlooked the Siren song of the Professional Air Line Pilot.  No one is more adept at the art of seduction.... that's why so many of them are on their third or fourth wives!  Here's how to seduce a woman like an Air Line Pilot.

Step One.....  Go grocery shopping in your uniform (even if it's your day off).  No woman can resist a man in uniform!  Tie, blazer, epaulets... even your hat!  Approach random women in the produce section and ask them if they like asparagus.  Everyone knows asparagus is the sexiest vegetable EVER!  Women will not be able to resist picturing themselves in the Halloween Store's "slutty stewardess" costume, cooking you asparagus with Hollandaise sauce as you wear your pilot uniform.

Step Two.....  Get drunk.  Oh yes!  Women find the smell of Tequila oozing from your pores to be more powerful than the most potent of pheromones. 

Step Three....  Rub her with your belly.  Oooo baby!  That fleshy overhang that succumbs to gravity over your waistband, is irresistible to woman.  Plus its uber-sexy that, between her boobs, and your belly, you fit together like jigsaw puzzle pieces.  It was meant to be!

Step Four.....  Talk about airplanes.  What could be more fascinating, alluring, or enticing, than the story about how you greased on your last landing?  Tell it over and over and over and over again.  Eventually she will have sex with you... if only to keep you from telling that story again.

Step Five.....  Show her how much money you make.  Let's face it; cash is an aphrodisiac.  Leave out an ALPA union publication with your hourly rate of pay highlighted.  Just don't tell her that 40% of that goes to your first wife and kids, and 30% goes to your second wife and those kids, and that you are currently living in your parents' basement and driving a moped to the airport.

Step Six......  Be a Superhero.  Explain to the woman you desire, how you hold the lives of 250 people in the palm of your hands.  Power is sexy.  Emphasize how dangerous your job is.  Make her believe you are a hero and a rock star!

Step Seven...  Grovel.  That has absolutely nothing to do with being a pilot, we just like to see you beg for it every once in a while!

So, light the candles.  Put on a Marvin Gaye or Barry White CD.  And get ready for romance... Pilot Style! 

NICKNAMES

 Most couples have "pet names" for each other; sweet nicknames they call each other to show love and affection.  You may think that PilotHusband and AngryPilotWife are beyond such sweetness and cliche, but we are not.  Here are some of the pet names I have for PilotHusband, and examples of contextual usage.

"Really"  As in, "Really?  You're going to watch me change the flat tire on my truck, by myself, while you sit in air conditioned comfort, in your man cave, reading Airline Pilot Central?"

"Seriously"  As in, "Seriously, you can't pick up your own uniforms from the Dry Cleaner?"

"Now"  As in, "I don't care if its a Wings at War marathon on the Military Channel, turn the volume down, Now".

"I Said No"  As in, "I don't care if its the Fourth of July and we have three sticks of construction grade explosives left.  You cannot blow them up in the back yard.  I Said No".

"Dammit"  As in, "Dammit, I told you not to leave your shoes in the doorway".

There are others, of course.  I've been known to use "WTF?", and occasionally, "Roll Over", and on rare occasion, "Get Off Me".

To be fair, PilotHusband has his pet names for me.  The most common one is "Hey Honey".  As in, "Hey Honey, did you pack my bag yet?" or "Hey Honey, is dinner ready yet?" or "Hey Honey, where are my epaulets?"

He has others, for me, of course, including "Shut the F**** Up" and the ever popular, "Because I Said So".  Ahhhh.  You have to love the "sweet nothings" spoken out of adoration and devotion!

WE'RE GETTING A POOL! WE'RE NOT GETTING A POOL!

Just like PilotHusband's diet is dependent on the latest issue of Men's Health or Maxim magazine left behind in the crew room, his descisions about major issues, are dependent on the opinion of the last Captain, with whom, he flew.  Whether it be vehicles, investments, or vacation spots, if the Captain thinks its a good idea, PilotHusband is going to come home swearing "xyz" is the greatest thing ever because Captain Bob (or Jim or Dave or Steve) said so.

For example, we've always planned on putting in a swimming pool.  We done the research, figured out what type we want, and where we would place it in the yard.  The only thing we were waiting on was the cash with which to do it.  PilotHusband even flew with Captain Joe who said he put in a pool last year and loves it!  All was looking good for the pool installation.  AngryPilotWife could even picture herself, floating on a raft (with a cup-holder, for my white wine spritzer), reading "50 Shades of Gray".  But noooooooooo!

PilotHusband just flew with Captain John.  And Captain John does not like pools.  After listening to the 87 minute (yes, I timed it) synopsis of PilotHusband's 3 day trip, with excrutiating detail spent on how awesome his landing was, I was treated to Captain John's opinion of the backyard swimming pool.  After 20 minutes of "Well, John says it's too much work" and "John says its not worth the money" and "John says our insurance won't cover it" and "John says he'd never do it again"  I started to not like Captain John.  While I'm sure Captain John is a super guy,  he's messing with APW's opportunity to get her swim on! 

Ironically, while Captain John and PilotHusband were flying over North America, bitching about how over-rated swimming pools are, Captain John's PilotWife was probably laying beside Captain John's pool, watching the 20 year old pool boy clean the filter (after he ever so gently and thoughtfully applied sunscreen to those hard to reach places for her).  I bet Captain John's Wife thinks having a pool is a really freaking awesome idea!!!!  SO BACK OFF CAPTAIN JOHN !!!

(By the way, PilotHusband wouldn't swear by everything Captain John said, if Captain John wasn't a very cool, righteous fellow). Sooo.... ahem.  Sorry about that.  Please understand, its been over 100 degrees for several days now and my business requires me to be outside for much of the day.  I'm hot.  I'm sweaty. SO, DON'T SCREW WITH MY POOL PLANS, GUYS!!!!!! 

If you Captains really want to mess with PilotHusband, try this...
On the first leg of a trip, tell my PilotHusband that putting in a pool is a great idea.  On the second leg, tell him that after further consideration, you believe putting in a pool is a really bad idea.  On the third leg, tell him you were wrong- a pool is definately a great idea.  On the fourth leg, tell him putting is a pool is a nightmare.  Keep this up for the entire four day trip, or until PilotHusband's brain explodes.  Just make sure that on the last leg, as you are hi-fiving each other for being Gods of Aviation, you leave him with "You know, PilotHusband, putting in a swimming pool is the best thing I ever did".

*The names have been changed to protect the unintentionally guilty.

** By the way, to all of you Airline Pilot Central boys out there:  APW would really appreciate it if, on your next few trips, you would tell your First Officer that you think...
     Stone veneer would look great on a retaining wall.
     Dark gray paint would be perfect for porch floors.
     Age six is a perfect time for little boys to start Karate classes.
     Weekend long, girls only, trips to Vegas are perfectly acceptable.
     Vacations should NEVER include APW's in-laws.
     Household appliances do NOT make good Christmas gifts.
     and finally...
     Taking your own dirty uniforms to the Dry Cleaner will not kill you.
Thanks fellas!  I owe you one!
    
    

IT'S ALL ABOUT THE NUMBERS

In addition to being a Physics geek (please see June 5th's post), I am a Math geek.  I love numbers and equations.  They always make sense (unlike PilotHusband).  Pi is always 3.14... blah, blah, blah.  2 plus 2 is always four.  It's kind of comforting.  So here is life with PilotHusband, by the numbers.

14... The number of times PilotHusband told the story about his awesome landing, executed on his last trip.

198, 204, 210, 215, 227, and 230... The number of passengers who complimented his landing on his last trip (please note, it increases with each re-telling of the tale).

14,520... Total flight hours.

14,519... Total flight hours flown in life threatening, high drama, conditions.

70... The average age of PilotHusband's Flight Attendants.

17... The average number of cats owned by said Flight Attendants.

19... The number of times PilotHusband tells our son that Mommy is not the maid or the waitress.

49... The number of times PilotHusband treats Mommy like the maid or the waitress.

3...   The number of hours, past bedtime, PilotHusband keeps our child awake.

62... The number of times APW reminds PilotHusband that the child must go to bed, so as not to be too tired in the morning.

17... The number of times APW reminds PilotHusband that he needs to drop off his uniforms to be dry cleaned.

17... The number of times APW takes PilotHusband's uniforms to the dry cleaner.

22... The number of years APW has been with PilotHusband.

22... The age of Carlos, the Latin Pool Boy, APW is hiring when PilotHusband makes Captain.

15... The SPF rating of the lotion, Carlos, the Pool Boy, will apply to APW.

22... The number of years APW has been with PilotHusband (it bears repeating).

13... The number of years APW would have served, if she shot PilotHusband, the first time he deserved it.

Sigh.  I love numbers!  They make perfect sense in an imperfect world.

ARE YOU A WIFE, OR AN ANGRY WIFE?

Okay, Ladies!  Its your turn.  We had the "Are You a Pilot or a Real Pilot" quiz on this blog.  Now its time to figure out if you are just a PilotWife, or an AngryPilotWife.  Please review the following multiple choice questions.  Give yourself one point for every "A", two points for every "B", and three points for every "C".  Tally your scores at the end to see whether you earn the title of AngryPilotWife.

1.   When your PilotHusband has to leave for a trip, you....
A. Get teary-eyed, because you will miss him so much.
B. Try to figure out child care arrangements, given his absence.
C. Do a happy dance, high-five the child, and vow to "party like a rock star" while he's gone.

2.   When PilotHusband is packing his bag, you...
A. Pack his suitcase with clean white undershirts, matching socks, overnight clothes, toiletries, vitamins, and healthful snacks.
B. Hang back, knowing you've done the laundry and he can pack his own bag.
C. Pack his bag, as he demands, with mismatched black socks, undershirts that you found on the bathroom floor and sprayed with Fabreeze, and your Five-Year-Old's Transformers underpants.

3.  If PilotHusband has to fill out a Displacement Bid, or an Advanced Entitlement Bid, you...
A.  Provide him with index cards, to organize his thoughts, make him a latte, and give him peace and quiet to focus.
B.  Go shopping with the girls to stay away from the inevitable drama.
C.  Fill out the bids for him (because he's never bid a monthly schedule, vacation bid, AE, or displacement bid by himself).  But you are sure to place a bid for him that insures maximum time away from home, giving you the peace and quiet you deserve.

4.   Regarding PilotBuddies, if they call when PilotHusband is on a trip, do you....
A.  Politely take a message, and inform them when PilotHusband will return.
B.  Chat with them briefly, as you are acquainted with them.
C.  Talk to them for an hour about their sex life, financial issues, and all other psychotherapy topics, because you talk to them more than PilotHusband does.

5.   When it comes to your diet, you..
A.  Eat healthy well balanced meals and drink, only socially.
B.  Eat well balanced meals when PilotHusband is home, and enjoy take out dinners or chicken nuggets with your kids when he is gone.
C.  Consider a glass of wine as a full serving of fruit and a bloody mary as a serving of vegetables.

6.  When a decision must be made regarding your home's maintenance, repair, decor, or landscaping, you...
A.  Abide by your PilotHusband's opinion because he is so knowledgeable about such things.
B.  Ask for his input, and make the decision together.
C.  Do what you want because its not like PilotHusband notices that anything needs to be maintained, repaired, decorated, or landscaped.

7.  You thoroughly clean the house...
A. Each time PilotHusband leaves on a trip so that he has the pleasure of returning to a clean, well organized environment.
B.  As often as you are able, given your hectic schedule.
C. When the dust bunnies blowing across your floor become bigger than the dog... which is 110 pounds.

8. Regarding your Mother-in-Law, you...
A. Adore the woman and are truly considered part of the family.
B.  Find her generally tolerable.
C.  Understand where your PilotHusband gets his love of aviation; because that b!tch has been flying around on a broomstick since you met her.

9.  When you activate the "Emergency Phone Tree", you are calling to....
A. Make sure other parents are aware that school will be dismissing early due to inclement weather.
B. To share some really juicy gossip.
C. To have your girls show up with a shovel, a bag of lime, and some quick setting concrete... because you've finally had enough.

10.  You get the majority of your workouts by....
A. Going to the gym and Zumba dance classes.
B. Chasing after the children.
C. Doing all the yard work, house work, laundry, bag packing, meal cooking and burden carrying.

11. The phrase that best describes your sex life is....
A.  When ever he comes home, it's like we're on our Honeymoon all over again.
B.  We try to set aside a special date night so we can spend time together as often as our schedules allow.
C.  It's like getting your teeth cleaned... we do it twice a year.

Give yourself one point for every A, two points for every B, and three points for every C.
If you scored:

11-20 points, The StepfordPilotWife.  You are the most obnoxiously happily married Wife at the cocktail party.  Oh wait! You wouldn't be at my cocktail party because you are too busy taking ballroom dance classes with your Husband, or holding hands as you walk on the beach with your Husband, or you're too busy taking one of those "How to Make Your Own Sushi" classes with your Husband.  Bletch!  You should come with a warning label so that Diabetics don't get too close to you.  Chances are, you are not even human, but some sort of android created through a joint venture by the Disney Company and Lockheed Martin.

18-26 points,  TheOutwardlyKindWife.  You love your Husband and family and are generally kind and content... but given enough Chardonnay the claws will come out!  You go girl!

27-33 points,  TheAngryPilotWife.  You have achieved the ultimate snarky Wife status.  Good for you!  You do not wear rose colored glasses, you have lowered your expectations, and you are a powerful, independent woman!  You are the hit, nay, the entertainment, at every party you attend.  And your PilotHusband cannot live without you!

UNIFORMS TELL THE TALE

You may think since all Pilots wear, essentially, the same uniform, it would be hard to distinguish the senior guys from the newbies.  But take a closer look...  the uniform tells the tale.

The NewHirePilot has uniform pants that are well fitting.
The SeniorPilot still wears the same size pants as when he was brand new, only now he fastens them below his gut, allowing the belly to hang comfortably over the waistband.

The NewHirePilot has pants that are in good repair.
The SeniorPilot smells vaguely like a Sharpie marker because his wife has to touch up the threadbare corners of his pocket flaps with a permanent marker before he leaves the house.  And while its awkward to stare, if you see a pilot struggling with his zipper at a urinal, he's a SeniorPilot.  The pull tab on his zipper broke of months ago.  He must now use a paperclip, ink pen, or safety pin to "MacGuyver" lowering and raising his zipper.

The NewHirePilot still sports the Styrofoam ring in his visor cap, and subsequently, looks like a dork.
The SeniorPilot has removed the ring and spent hours drinking Maker's Mark while bending and shaping his visor cap just right.  He now looks like a U-boat Captain... and he likes it that way.

The NewHirePilot has his shirts cleaned with heavy starch to make a good, crisp, impression.
The SeniorPilot has his shirts cleaned with heavy starch so he can wear the same shirt for four days because he's on his third wife, second company bankruptcy and can't afford to go to the Dry Cleaner more frequently.

The NewHirePilot boldly breaks from uniform standards to wear festive neckties for Christmas and Independence Day.
The SeniorPilot wears the same exact tie every day, all month, because its easier than keeping a log book.  He can simply recall where he's flown by the stains from the food court fare left on the tie.

The NewHirePilot has a crew case/"brain box" decorated with stickers of the aircraft he flies.
The SeniorPilot has a crew case/"brain box" decorated with Republican bumper stickers, NRA stickers, and "FU Pay Me" stickers.

The NewHirePilot has well polished Cole Hahn leather shoes.
The SeniorPilot sports cowboy boots, black sneakers, or proper dress shoes that have been re-soled 5 times.

The NewHirePilot wears his uniform to the grocery store (whether he just got off a trip, or not).
The SeniorPilot takes off his epaulets, tie, wings, and name plate so he can hit the liquor store on the way home without judgement.

They may all wear poly-wool blend jackets and pants in shades of navy, black or brown, but it all depends on the mileage!  Like Jane Goodall studying the Chimpanzees, you must immerse yourself in the species to be able to discern the subtle differences.

EINSTEIN'S RELATIVITY OF TIME

I am a physics geek.  I subscribe to Omni, Discover, and Science Weekly.  I use a highlighter when I read the articles.  I secretly crush on Dr. Michio Kaku.  I am trying to teach myself about the finer points of "string theory".  Seriously!  APW is a closeted, quark loving, string theorist, quantum physics groupie.  There.  I've said it.  Judge me, if you will.

So, obviously, in addition to regular Sunday attendance at the local Methodist church, I worship Albert Einstein.  I have read everything he has written, as well as everything written about him.  Only PilotHusband can tell you if I actually have E=mc2 tattooed on my butt.

So, lately I've been contemplating the Theory of Relativity.  Einstein was a very groovy guy.  To paraphrase, he explained Relativity as akin to how fast time passes when you kiss a beautiful girl versus, how slowly time passes when you are doing something you don't enjoy.  It got me thinking about how the concept of time is specific and relevant to the Air Line Pilot.

For example, most people would disapprove of drinking beer at 9:00 in the morning.  However, if you are a pilot, and you just got home from a red-eye flight, that is a perfectly acceptable choice for breakfast.  Relativity.

Given that the child has to be at school by 8:00 and AngryPilotWife likes to get to the office by 8:45, one might assume that bedtime is 8:30 for "Little Man" and 10:00 for APW.  Not so!  In the world of Pilot Relativity, if PilotHusband has to get up at 3:30 for a 6:00 am commuter flight, EVERYONE must be in bed by 7 o'clock.  Relativity.

The same Theory of Relativity applies to days off.  One might think, if PilotHusband has 7 days off in a row, he may be more inclined to DO SOMETHING around here, as opposed to having only 2 days off which would justify rest and relaxation (on the couch, watching the Military Channel).  But No!  The Theory of  Relativity tells us that we must divide the Pilot's days off by the perceived effort, multiplied by the number of days it takes to reiterate the last 3 day trip in excruciating detail, cubed by the trip differential, divided by the level of  difficulty, squared by the number of Flight Attendants over the age of 65, multiplied by the percentile chance of getting another trip assignment, and exponentially expanded by whether or not he liked the Captain he flew with.  Relativity.

When Steven Hawking showed up to investigate the gravitational pull of our sofa, when PilotHusband was laying on it, watching the Military Channel, pulling the Earth off its axis; we discussed this.  He was in agreement.  Time is relative when dealing with an Air Line Pilot.  Relativity.

THAT'S NOT A REAL JOB

I try to have PilotHusband's back, when it comes to our child.  Oh I'll throw him under the bus to entertain you, Dear Readers.  However, I really do defend him to our son.  I explain how hard Daddy works and why we need to be very quiet and let Dad sleep because he has to fly the big airplane far far away late late at night.  Lately, the five-year-old has been grilling me about Daddy's job, and he ain't buying it anymore!

For example, PilotHusband just got back from a three day trip to Prague.  Our son sat me down and began to ask more detailed questions about "what exactly does Daddy do?".  I tried.  Really I did.  Here's how the conversation went.

Child: Soooo, when Daddy goes to Prague, what does he do when he gets there?
APW: Well, Honey, your Dad is tired when he gets there, so he lays down and watches television.
Child: Soooo, it's just like he does at home.
APW: Well sort of.
Child: Does he watch the Military Channel?
APW: (as wine comes out of my nose!)  Sometimes the country he's in doesn't have the Military Channel.
Child:  Oh my God!  Then what does he watch, Mom?
APW: I don't know, Baby.
Child: Well that would explain why he's Cranky Banky when he comes home.

Later that same day....

Child: Hey Mom?
APW: Yes Honey?
Child: You know that time I went with you to work, and you carried all those bricks to a job site, and built a wall?
APW: Yes, Honey.
Child: Well when Daddy goes to work, does he have to put all of the suitcases on the plane?
APW: No. Someone else does that.  But he does have to do the walk around.
Child: What's that?
APW: Daddy has to walk all the way around the airplane and make sure everything is okay.
Child: Well, that doesn't seem like its a very long way to walk.  I mean, its just around one airplane.
APW: But it is important.
Child: Come on Mom!  I do more than that in Gym class!

And the next day.....

Child: Hey Mom?
APW: Yes, Dear?
Child: When Daddy goes to work, how does he know how to get where he is going?
APW: Good question!  Daddy talks to Air Traffic Control, you know, the guys in the tall tower.  And they tell him where to go to get to Prague.
Child:  You mean he doesn't even Mapquest it?
APW: No baby, he doesn't have to Mapquest it.

Later that evening...

Child: Mom?
APW: What's up?
Child: Daddy's job is kinda lame.  I mean Santa has to build all his own toys, Mapquest everybody's house, and feed the reindeer.  Daddy just walks around the airplane, has someone tell him where to go, then watches tv, then comes home.  Whiskey Tango Foxtrot (and yes, child actually said "Whiskey Tango Foxtrot").
APW: Hey! Let's watch Lion King for the 57th time!
Child: Soooo, Daddy doesn't really have a real job, does he?

I tried.  Really I did.

BIGFOOT, THE LOCH NESS MONSTER, AND JIMMY HOFFA

AngryPilotWife is a partner in an Outdoor Living Space Construction Company.  We do patios, decks, sunrooms, outdoor kitchens, firepits, etc.  So today, I was at a jobsite, on Lake Norman, when I looked up from the bricks and mortar, and saw the Loch Ness Monster!  Well, to be technical, the Loch Norman Monster.  I took a blurry cell phone picture of it and rushed home to share it with PilotHusband.  Only I couldn't get a word in edge-wise because PilotHusband was on the phone with CargoPilotBestFriend, asking his opinion of the Tentative Agreement for the new Delta Contract.  Oh well.

That wouldn't be so bad, except for the fact that yesterday, while I was digging a french drain, my shovel hit something hard.  After further exploration, I realized I uncovered Jimmy Hoffa's body.  Again, I took a blurry cell phone picture of it and rushed home to tell PilotHusband.  But alas, he didn't hear a single word of it because he was talking to UnitedPilotBuddy about the Delta TA.  Oh well.

The day before that, I was sifting thru all of the excess pavers and stone behind my showroom, and I set down my McDonald's hamburger for a moment.  Along came a furry humanoid, about 7 feet tall, that stole my burger and ran off into the woods.  I was able to take a very blurry cell phone picture of the creature as it departed.  Upon examination of the footprints it left behind, I realized, I just saw Bigfoot!  I rushed home to tell PilotHusband, but he was on the phone with USAirPilotBuddy, discussing the Delta Tentative Agreement.  Oh well.

Later tonight, I plan to set myself on fire, but I doubt PilotHusband will notice.  He's got to call FedExPilotBuddy to get his opinion on the Delta Tentative Agreement.  Oh well.

THE BEST TYPE-O EVER !!!!!

Thank you, kind readers, for taking the time to point out and correct the occasional spelling and grammar errors that occur when I combine typing and a crisp Pinot Grigio.  Siht Happens (get it? another type-o. ha ha).  Recently, I received a mass e-mail from the President of our elementary school's Parent Teacher Organization that contained the best type-o of ALL time.

First let me say, I appreciate all of the parent volunteers of the PTO (PTA in some areas of the country).  They play a vital role in raising money and staffing special events for our public school system.  However, it seems a bit like a high school clique that's impossible to penetrate.  So, not being one who likes being left out, you can imagine my chagrin when I received yet another e-mail from the PTO seeking volunteers to count fundraising orders, knowing only those parents who have been involved with the school for a while would actually be allowed to participate.

But this time was different. No, I probably would not be invited to play their reindeer games, but this time it was okay because the e-mail contained the most awesome type-o ever!  The kind gentleman, who is the Organization's President, sent out an e-mail to every member of the PTO, informing everyone that he needed volunteers to count cookie dough orders from the latest fundraiser.  Only instead of typing "c-o-u-n-t" he left out the "o".  (Think about it for a moment)

Yes, that's right.  Everyone received an e-mail stating he was in need of more "cookie c-u-n-t-s"!  Wait it gets better!!!  Instead of typing "the counts", the next line read, "more volunteers are needed for "their c-u-n-t-s".  I was in heaven.  It was soooo deliciously awkward!

There's just no recovering from that... poor guy.  I started to feel bad for him until I read the e-mail again and couldn't stop giggling!  And of course, I forwarded it to as many people as I could!  Maybe next year I'll run for PTO President.  I can see the campaign posters now: "Leadership You Can  C-U-N-T  On".