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.