Monday, November 4, 2013


Pilots love checklists.  Departure checklists, after-start checklists, arrival checklists... having a checklist ensures you haven't missed a step.  As AngryPilotWives, we too, need a checklist.  You see, when you leave home, Dear Pilots, we throw all of your rules, anal-retentive tendencies, and discipline, out the window.  Your wife and your children, jump on the bed (with shoes on), we don't do dishes (until we run out of dishes-- then we buy paper plates), we stay up late, and your kitchen counters are littered with empty pizza boxes (and empty wine bottles-- for us, NOT the kids).  As such, we need to put everything back in order before you get home from your four day trip... lest you figure out the "funness" that occurs in your absence.  So here's a checklist of our own, fellow APWs.

The AngryPilotWife Checklist
1.     Obviously, the first thing we need to do is clean the house.  Haul off the empty wine bottles to the recycling center, find your kitchen sink under all of the dirty dishes, get out the snow shovel to move all of the toys from the middle of the living room, back to the playroom.  Vacuum all of the potato chip crumbs off the floor.  You know the drill.
2.     Fabreeze.  That pile of wet bathing suits you let sit on the floor for three days; the wet dog smell from letting the canine sleep on the sofa; the faint odor of trash that you waited four days to take out; the stinky sweat socks your boys left in the middle of the floor; the faint smell of cigarettes that you sneak when he's gone, even though you promised to quit months ago.... just spray the crap out of it.
3.     Delete your computer browsing history.  He does it (when he remembers), and you should too.  Delete "Plants Vs. Zombies" so he doesn't know you and the 7 year old stayed up until 10:00 slaying the undead.  Ditch "" and while I am NOT here to judge, if you have been on "", for the love of God, make sure that's gone before he gets home.
4.     (This is for the SeniorPilotWives)  When it comes to the help, make sure they are aware your PilotHusband is on his way home.  Yes, this is for you, AngrySeniorUnitedPilotWife.  Tell Jorge, the 22 year old Latin pool boy, that he doesn't have to clean the pool in a thong this week.  He can go back to his Khaki shorts and golf shirt.  Tell the Handyman that he can go back to wearing a shirt under his overalls.  Pilots appreciate uniforms.  Just make sure any workers you have, are attired appropriately.  But please don't feel bad about it.  For years, your PilotHusband has been picturing the cleaning lady in a French maid outfit from Fredrick's of Hollywood.
5.     Go to the grocery store and buy a couple of rib-eye steaks, milk, orange juice, and some fresh veggies.  Don't let PilotHusband know that the entire family has been dining on Grape soda, Twinkies and potato chips for every meal since he left town.

You see Ladies, checklists are important ;)

Sunday, October 27, 2013


Pilots, upon reaching a certain point in their careers, are spoiled.  They sit on their ass and push a button and say "I'd like a coke"... and someone brings them a coke.  The sum total of their physical exertion is walking around an airplane.  If something breaks, they call Maintenance and wait at Starbucks while it gets fixed.  And while I'm venting, you people don't actually fly anywhere... that would involve flapping (and feathers).  You just got in from Paris.  You sat.  You steered.  You pushed buttons.  You read the Wall Street Journal.  BUT YOU DIDN'T FLY!  The geese that just landed in the lake across from our house just did some MAJOR FLYING, all the way from Canada... and I'm pretty sure no one served them a crew meal or fetched them some coffee.  Either your Company or your Contract tell you that can't possibly work more than 35 hours in a week, and a 24 hour period of absolutely nothing to do is required.  Heck, even Scheduling tells you when its time to "rest"; sort of like nap time at pre-school.

As a result, Air Line Pilots are detached from reality... like a cult member or a hostage with Stockholm Syndrome.  It's not their fault.  So, in an effort to re-integrate you boys back into society, let me give you a reality check.

1.   In the REAL world, there is not a team of mechanically inclined people standing at the ready to fix anything that breaks.  When the dishwasher breaks on Friday night, you cannot leave for a trip on Saturday and demand that there will be a new dishwasher installed by the time you return on Monday.  In the REAL world, one would drive to Home Depot, pick out an appliance, wait two days for a call to schedule delivery and installation two weeks later.  In PilotHusband's world, this situation required AngryPilotWife to drive to 3 stores to find the right dishwasher in stock, load it on my truck, come home and drag it in the house by myself, and spend the next day struggling to tear out the old one, and hardwire in and connect the plumbing for the new one.... but it is installed... before PilotHusband returns from his trip on Monday.

2.  In the REAL world, a catering truck does not pull up to the house several times a day, restocking whatever you need.  In the REAL world, people make grocery lists and get off the damn sofa and go to the grocery store.  In PilotHusband's world, APW goes to the grocery store to get provisions for our home, after asking PilotHusband if he needs anything.  Then after leaving the grocery store and driving half way home, APW turns around and goes back because PilotHusband called her to say he was out beer.  Then APW returns home to find that in her absence, PH ate all of the sandwich meat for our son's lunch tomorrow, all of the ice cream, and used the last of the toilet paper (which we are out of because he's been home so damn long).  This requires APW to go back to the grocery store a third time that day.

3.  In the REAL world, people do not have a legally binding contract requiring them to "rest" and do absolutely nothing for 24 hours.  In the REAL world, there is always something that needs to get done.  Even if "regular" folks have a day off from their jobs, there is still work to do; cooking dinner, mowing the lawn, walking the dog, laundry, washing dishes... it never ends.  In PilotHusband's world, the terms "rest" and "days off" are taken very seriously.  An off day requires less movement than a South American Giant Sloth, restricting PH to the sofa where he dutifully rests (and watches the Military Channel).

4.  In the REAL world, sometimes people are nice to you because they are genuinely kind people.  In the REAL world, the Manager at the grocery store greets everyone.  The school bus driver waves hello at each parent at every bus stop.  The kid at the local mini-mart is very friendly.  In PilotHusband's world, all of these people are friendly and accommodating because he showed up in uniform and they are impressed and in awe of the "double-breasted van admiral" attire.  Really?

5.  In the REAL world, people actually buy their own toilet paper, soap, shampoo, and conditioner.  In PilotHusband's world, if he's been home for a while, when the toilet paper runs out, we switch to Kleenex, and when that runs out... paper towels.  But under NO circumstances do Pilots buy toilet paper.  If God wanted Pilots to buy their own toilet paper, He wouldn't have created Housekeeping carts.

My background is actually in Clinical Psychology.  I'm thinking about starting a deprogramming center to re-integrate these poor Pilots back into mainstream society after retirement.  But I fear it would be like those facilities that try to turn gay teens straight. It just won't work.  Like Lady GaGa says, "they were born this way".  I guess the rest of us will just have to learn to roll with it.  Hey, somebody pass me the Kool-Aid!


Sunday, September 8, 2013

OH NO HE DIDN'T !!!!!!

My dear, sweet, capable, professional, respectable Pilot readers.... it gives me great pleasure, and humble appreciation, to know that, after, is the second most deleted address on your search history.  I know you read the blog and the FB page.  Perhaps you view my rants about PilotHusband as a cautionary tale and learn from his mistakes, perhaps you rejoice in the fact that you have not been exposed by your own wife, perhaps you read this to help you "fly under the radar", maybe its like rubbernecking past the site of a bad car wreck on the highway.  Whatever the reason, I am glad you are here.

Be that as it may, let's get one thing straight.  AngryPilotWife is all knowing and all powerful; just like the Great and Powerful Oz.  I read all of the forums... JetCareers and AirlinePilotCentral, to name a few.  Usually, I do not feel the need to comment... boys will be boys.  HOWEVER, there was a post on AngryPilotCentral last month that I cannot let go by, unaddressed.  Forgot to Bid posted a list of how PilotWives (and Unions) should behave, to please their husbands once they come home.  I know (hope) this was tongue in cheek.  I have much love and respect for FTB.  I even gave him a "shout out" on my April 3, 2012 blog, along with Scambo1, Buzzpat, Wasatch, HoserPilot, 80knts, Tsquare, and Ferd.

In all fairness, let's have you look at the original post before I comment.  Here's the link:

Go ahead.  Read it.  I'll wait...

So, FTB gave us a "Mad Men-esque", 1950s, June Cleaver, view on how to welcome PilotHusbands home from work.  That's cool.  Here's my interpretation of it.

Rule 1: "Have dinner ready".  Duh.  How else are we supposed to poison you slowly?

Rule 2:  "Prepare yourself".  In this step, FTB encourages us to "be a little more gay and interesting" than PilotHusband's "work weary" friends.  Yeah... about that.... my PilotHusband just got off a trip with 4 male Flight Attendants.  I think he's had enough "gay and interesting" for one week.  This step goes on to suggest that we wives should work out and diet to keep our "boobs up" and our "buttocks rounded".  If that doesn't work, we are encouraged to "go under the knife".  Hmmmmm.  That might just work except for the fact that our son has decided that, for Halloween, he will be Luke Skywalker, Mommy will be Princess Leah, and Dad will be Jabba the Hut.  "Quid Pro Quo, Agent Starling"!

Rule 3:  "Give it up".  In this step, FTB encourages us to "be open to new ideas or bedroom opportunities".  Oh!  Where to begin?  We are TOTALLY open to new ideas... they just don't involve you.

Rule 4:  "Clear away the clutter".  Okay, cool... I agree.  When you are gone, we party like the love child of Guns and Roses and Led Zep.  We always put things in order before you come home.  I have no problem with that one.

Rule 5:  "Prepare the children".  In this step, we are supposed to scrub our children clean and tell them that Daddy is always right.  Okay.  Put them in clean jammies, spray them with Fabreeze, and ask them NOT to use their karate class num-chucks on their father.  Just be sure to set a little bit of money aside for therapy later.

Rule 6:  "Minimize all noise".  This is effing HILARIOUS!  PilotHusband makes the most noise when he comes home.  The noise issue is not the dryer, washer, or vacuum.  Its PilotHusband talking about how he crossed the frozen North Atlantic, or how he greased on his landings, or the blare of "Hitler's Henchmen" coming from the Military Channel.

Rule 7: "Some do nots".  This step encourages us to NOT complain or discuss problems.  Really?  I think we know that already.  If something breaks, we fix it before PilotHusband returns.  If we have a problem, we don't share it with PilotHusband... what would be the point in that?

Rule 8:  "Make him comfortable".  This step is a homage to Mad Men.  We should pour him a drink, take off his shoes, and let him relax in his LazyBoy chair.  What FTB fails to recognize is PilotHusband has already had two "tall boys" on his way home, he not only took off his own shoes, but he stripped down to his man panties in the breakfast room, and he is now laying on the sofa, watching the Military Channel.  I think he's got the comfort thing perfected.

Rule 9:  "Shut up and listen".  FTB remind us to let him talk first.  I hate to quote Alanis Morrisette, but "Isn't it ironic?".  PilotHusband talks first, second, third, forth, fifth.... and last.  All he does is talk about his perfect landing and his inept Captain (or F/O, depending on Seniority).  I could say something, but what would be the point in that?  He won't hear it, or remember it.

Rule 10: "Make the evening his".  We need to understand that he is coming from a world of stress and needs the sanctuary or home to decompress.  Are you Effing kidding me?  Stress is NOT sitting on your ass for 4 days; your only exercise being walking around an airplane.  Stress is baking 36 cupcakes for the PTA bake sale, getting the dishwasher fixed, mowing the lawn before the next round of rain, dealing with bat-shit-crazy in-laws, my lunatic mother, and the Homeowners Association meeting.

Rule 11: "Make your home a place of peace and order".  Hey, FTB, to truly do that would require changing the door locks and throwing all of PilotHusband's shit onto the front lawn (that I just mowed).

I have nothing but respect for you, Forgot to Bid.  I know what you posted was meant to be tongue-in-cheek.  But still.... you didn't think I'd let it slide without an AngryPilotWife response, did you?  To all my Pilot Boys.... keep the blue side up, beware the bunny boilers, and straighten up and fly right.

Much Love and Respect,

Wednesday, August 21, 2013


Some men have a hard time getting it up.  I get it... I've seen the commercials.  Blood pressure medication, low testosterone, stress, a wife who has let herself go... many factors affect a man's ability to "get it up".  Thankfully, PilotHusband does NOT have that problem (the capitals are used at his request).  However, PilotHusband has a huge problem getting it in... and I blame Mother D!

You see, once upon a time, PilotHusband used to be a 737 Captain, flying to tropical islands and resorts in South America.  His aircraft had a tiller on both sides of the cockpit, allowing both the Captain and the First Officer to taxi to the gate.  But at Mother D, the tiller is only on the Captain's side.  Given that PilotHusband is a First Officer, he can bring a wide body home from Europe (over the frozen North Atlantic) and land it (greasing it on every time), but he cannot bring it all the way in to the gate.  Therefore, he has developed a significant problem with "getting it in". 

Late last night, PilotHusband finished drinking a gallon of milk (straight from the container).  Rather than put it in the trash can, he left it on the counter.

When he got home from his trip, rather than put his dirty clothes in the laundry basket, he dropped them on the floor, just 10 feet away.

After PilotHusband finished his dinner, he left his dirty plate on the counter, rather than putting it in the sink (or, God Forbid, the dishwasher).

PilotHusband is very anal about oral care. (I only phrased it that way to see what sort of freaks would find this site after a Google search of those two words)  Anyway, he flosses his teeth several times a day, but can never get the used floss in the trash can.

Given that we usually enter the house through the garage door, I built an elaborate cubby system to store our shoes.  Sadly, PilotHusband cannot get his shoes in a cubby.  Instead, I find them in front of doorways, under the coffee table, or strewn about the house.

Sometimes I wish PilotHusband had a problem "getting it up".  Then all it would take is a little blue pill to fix the problem.  Sadly, there is no cure for a man who cannot get it in.

Tuesday, August 20, 2013


All Pilots have their routines.  PilotHusband follows the same format when he returns home, whether he has sat short call/ready reserve/quick call with no assignment, or has come home from a 4 day trip to Europe (over the frozen North Atlantic).  Follow my PilotHusband's routine if you want to return home like a real Pilot.

Step One.......  Greet your child as soon as you walk in the door.  Present your child with the "very special treat" Daddy brought home for him: stale hotel cookies and crushed breakfast muffins from First Class. Continue to do this after every trip even though your child looks at you like you're a total douche bag, and gives your "special treats" to the dog as soon as your back is turned.  Ignore the fact that the dog looks at you like you are a total douche bag, too.

Step Two.......  Pour yourself a drink.

Step Three.....  Ignore your Wife who is busy in the kitchen, preparing your dinner.

Step Four......  Pour yourself a drink.

Step Five......   Empty your suitcase of all the dirty clothes.  Dump them in a pile in the middle of the Dining Room.  Walk away.

Step Six.......    Pour yourself a drink.

Step Seven.....  Take a shower.  Change into the same stained sweatshirt and cargo shorts with the huge hole in the crotch that you were wearing just before you left on your trip.

Step Eight.....  Pour yourself a drink.

Step Nine.......  Finally greet your Wife by grabbing her ass and sticking your tongue down her throat.  Act surprised when this is not well received.

Step Ten.......  Pour yourself a drink.

Step Eleven....  Spend the next hour, ignoring your family, while you catch up on the latest gossip and wisdom on Airline Pilot Central forums.

Step Twelve....  Pour yourself a drink.

Step Thirteen..  Spend the next hour whining about how hard your trip was (even though you are sporting a new sun tan) and bitching about your Captain (or F/O).  Be sure to talk about how you greased on your landings, over and over again.

Step Fourteen..  Pour yourself a drink.

Step Fifteen...   Decide that your wife is overcooking the roast.  Turn the oven off when she is not looking (even though it still has an hour to cook).

Step Sixteen...   Pour yourself drink.

Step Seventeen.. Act hurt and surprised when your Wife yells at you for screwing with the oven (and ruining the roast).  Retreat to your office to see how many people you can piss off and alienate on Face Book.

Step Eighteen..  Pour yourself one shot for every person who has "unfriended" you after your last Face Book rampage.

Step Nineteen..  Act surprised that your Wife and child have gone to bed.  Lay on the sofa and watch the Military Channel.  Tell the dog to stop looking at you like you're a douche bag. 

Night. Night. Sweet Pilots.  So glad you're home!


Saturday, August 10, 2013


In any relationship, misunderstandings, resentment, annoyances, and expectations can build up and create tension.  From time to time, its a good idea for couples to sit down and "clear the air"... or remove the turbulence, so to speak.  Any time I have tried to do this with my PilotHusband, he just turns up the volume on the Military Channel to drown me out.  So, I shall clear the air right here.  Perhaps he will read it, or someone on Airline Pilot Central will read it (and give him shit for it), or he will ignore it just as much in written form as he does verbally.  Regardless, I will feel better for getting it off my chest.... and it just may apply to some of you, as well.

1.    You do not get a gold star for doing your job.  That's what you are supposed to do.  I do my job every day, and no one gives me a smiley face sticker.  Thank you for transporting 300+ souls safely to Paris (over the frozen North Atlantic).... now will you PLEASE mow the effing lawn?

2.    If I call you while you are on a trip, its not because I want to talk to you.  If I call you, it is to express annoyance that you haven't called me.  Okay, I admit it... that probably doesn't make much sense.  Its a "chick thing".  I can view your schedule.  I know you had a three hour break in NYC; but you didn't call.  I know you got to the hotel on Day 2 at noon; but you didn't call until 7:00PM.  I know you didn't leave the hotel until 2:00PM on Day 4; but you didn't call until the end of your rotation.  I want to feel like, checking in with your family, is the most important thing to you.

*Please note, even if you did call at every soonest opportunity, I would still be short, curt, snippy, and dismissive, because I'm still pissed off about that thing you did/said/didn't do/didn't say, before you left.  Deal with it.  I went through LABOR... I win!  Pick up a damn phone.

3.    I know you want our son to follow in Daddy's footsteps and be a Pilot... for your Air Line.  However, if you keep nagging him about going to Annapolis or the Air Force Academy, and becoming a Carrier Qualified Pilot... he will rebel.  If you keep this up, he will end up majoring in Musical Theater at NC School of the Arts (not that there's anything wrong with that).  HE'S SEVEN!  Right now, he wants to become a "Toy Designer" and live at the North Pole with Santa, where he can design cool robot toys for the elves to make.  Chill a little bit, will ya'?

4.    I know you are a "stick and rudder" guy, but will you PLEASE get the stick out of your ass?  Contrary to popular belief, you can be friends with people who don't fly airplanes.  APW has lots of different friends, all of whom have something unique to contribute.  Heavily inked biker friends, militant lesbian friends, neo-hippie Renaissance Festival friends, redneck farmer friends, plain old redneck friends, uber-yuppie executive friends... and they all enrich my life and make me smile in their own way.  Pilots are not the Master Race.  You watch  Military Channel... you know how that turned out for the Nazis.

5.    Please stop deleting important emails and then dumping the computer trash, only to turn around and tell me there's an important email that I need to address.  How exactly am I supposed to do that?
Okay... I feel better now.  Don't worry.  I intend to be fair and balanced.  PilotHusband comes home today.  I'll make notes as to all of his complaints and post them here as well.  (This could get really interesting)


Friday, August 2, 2013


It has been said that you cannot serve two Masters.  I believe this to be true, especially when it comes to Pilots' Unions.  Evidently, the Sky Gods over at "Mother D" are coming to that realization. Personally, I have never understood how a union can negotiate a contract for a commuter / feeder Air Line, seeking more flying and expansion, and then turn around and negotiate a Legacy carrier contract, addressing scope and growth for them.  At the very least, it seems a bit disingenuous.  So, it looks like the Uber Aviators of Mother D may dump ALPA in favor of creating a new, Air Line-centric union.  If DPA gets voted in, I have one suggestion.  When contract negotiations roll around, we need Union Reps, Management, AND some AngryPilotWives, sitting at the table.

Let's face it, as PilotWives, we drop off and pick up their uniforms from the dry cleaner each week.  We do the laundry; we pack the suitcase; we fill out the bids; we keep track of the schedule; Hell, we filled out the damn application that got him the job in the first place.  Technically, we should be on payroll.  So when it comes time to negotiate a new contract, I want some input!  So, here is my list of "must-haves" for the next Pilot Contract.

1.     Pilots will be banned from having an overnight at the airport closest to their residence.  If you live in ATL, but are based in NYC, you will be banned from any trip that includes an ATL overnight.  If the Pilot can come home while on a trip, that defeats the whole purpose of getting him out of the house!

2.     If the final segments of a trip are canceled, the Pilot will be given other flying, or other duties, to ensure that he will NOT return home, sooner than expected.  Give him an out-and-back; make him dust the LazyBoys in the crew room, but DO NOT send him home before we expect him.   We need time to restore the house from Rock Star Debauchery to Squared Away Pilot Neatness. Do not screw with my program.

3.     All Pilots will be provided 6 new uniforms per year.  Pilots are cheap.  They will not buy new uniforms on their own.  Instead they will make us touch up the threadbare portions of their pants with a Sharpie marker, let their middle-aged gut hang over the waistband, and force us to bribe our Dry Cleaner with baked goods to constantly put a "rush" order on his clothing.  Please give a PilotWife a break.  A few extra uniforms would help.

4.     All Pilots will have a mandatory off day for their wedding anniversary.  This will leave them no excuse.  They will have to show up with a gift, or plan a night out with us.  Okay, its not a deal breaker, but it would be fun to watch them squirm as they are left with no excuse to avoid celebrating the day.

5.     All Pilots shall be required to fly over Thanksgiving.  Remember, PilotHusband got his love of aviation from his mother.... who has been flying around on a broom since you met her.  If our Pilots were off on Turkey Day, we'd have to entertain people that we don't like.  If all Pilots have to work on the holiday, we get a hall pass from dealing with horrible relatives.

6.     Pilots will be REQUIRED to take Xanax, Midol, Paxil, or Haldol during all Advanced Entitlement or Mandatory Displacement bid periods.  Every time APW has to fill out another bid, I have to spend weeks listening to the gloom and doom predictions of PilotHusband, even though he had held his position on his aircraft for 6 years.  More medication... less drama.

7.     Along with Medical, Dental, Vision, and Life Insurance, Pilots will be compensated with a "Handyman" benefit, allowing PilotWives to enlist help in the maintenance and repair of the home.  I don't know about you, but when something needs fixing around here, my Uber Aviator tells me to "Call Maintenance... I'll be at Starbucks until it gets done".  Pilots won't get on a ladder to paint or clean gutters because they don't want to fall and "lose my Medical".  Pilots don't do electrical repairs because they don't want to get shocked and "lose my Medical".  Pilots don't want to use a circular saw, rototiller, lawn mower, or any other power tool, because they might "lose my Medical".  Given how responsible Pilots are in protecting their First Class Medical status, I think the company could provide a little help here.

I have many more suggestions, but I don't want to put all of my cards on the table... just yet.  Hey DPA, I'm rooting for you.  But be advised, the AngryPilotWives want a seat at the table too.


Saturday, July 27, 2013


I got a call last night from a fellow AngryPilotWife.  After 30 minutes of marital complaints, she announced, "All Pilots are dogs!".  Given that I really like dogs, I wasn't sure that was a fair assessment.  It got me thinking... are Pilots and dogs really that similar?  If not, how are they different?

When it comes to greetings, Pilots and dogs are very similar.  Both have their rituals to get a sense of the other person... or canine.  For dogs, this starts with smelling each others' butts.  Then whichever one growls first, is the Alpha.  For Pilots it starts with, "Who do you fly for?" and dominance is established by one's answer to the question, "What equipment are you on?".  However, it would probably be less socially awkward if Pilots just smelled each other and growled if they flew a wide-body.

Dogs are, inherently social creatures; longing to be part of a pack.  In her youth, we took our Rottweiler / German Shepherd mix to the local dog park to run with her posse of dog buddies.  Now, she naps on the front porch, waiting for neighbors to walk by with their canines, who inevitably stop by for a while to frolic.  Pilots aren't much different.  They to, are very social creatures.  However they fulfill this need by spending hours reading and posting on Airline Pilot Central forums.

As a rule, dogs are loyal.  Pilots... well... some are.   Dogs are ALWAYS happy to see you.  They bark as soon as they hear you pull in the driveway.  They wait at the door for you to enter.  They jump.  They wag their tails.  They are soooooo happy you are home!  On the other hand, Pilots will ignore you when you walk in the house; especially if you are carrying in groceries or there's something good on the Military Channel or Fox News.  Big effing difference!

Here's another similarity.... Dogs love to play fetch.  Our dog, Ava Garner, will drop a stick at my feet, over and over again, just for the chance to retrieve it.  Pilots love to play fetch too.  However for Pilots, the game is more like "Fetch me a beer" or "Fetch me a sandwich" and they never give it back.... until its empty.

Another difference; dogs have NO concept of time.  If I go in the bathroom, and shut the door, when I emerge, the dog greets me as if I just returned from 2 tours in Afghanistan.  PilotHusbands are acutely aware of time.  This is especially true if they have to get up early for a trip.  If PilotHusband has to catch the 6:00 flight into base, he starts announcing how much time is left before he must rise, about 24 hours ahead of time.  Like some Doomsday clock counting down, you are CONSTANTLY reminded of PilotHusband's concept of time.

Finally, there is a HUGE difference in the way doggie transgressions, and Pilot transgressions, are dealt with. Depending on your Homeowner's Insurance and your neighbors' tolerance, dogs only get two chances to screw up before they are carted off by the big evil Animal Control truck.  Hell... Ol' Yeller only got to get cranky one time, before they put a bullet in him.  If I shot PilotHusband every time he got sideways, I would have run out of ammo a long time ago.  When it comes to dog's; there's a "two strikes-- you're out" rule.  PilotHusbands seem to have more lives than cats... but that's a whole different blogpost.

APW and Trooper: our "rescue" Pitbull

Friday, July 19, 2013


As an AngryPilotWife who has had to use single-ply toilet paper thieved from PilotHusband's last overnight, and whatever crap shampoo comes out of those teeny tiny bottles for the better part of twenty years, I understand that, as a species, Pilots are cheap.  But mine takes it to a whole new level.

Over the years, I have seen him save the good liquor bottles that he brought home from the duty free shop, and refill them with bottom shelf rotgut.  I have seen him line the front of the refrigerator with bottles of Leffe, only to fill the rest of the rows in with Budweiser.  And yes, I have watched him open 127 little bags of peanuts to fill a serving bowl for a cocktail party I was hosting. 

As if that were not bad enough, a few months ago he achieved a new low.  After weeks of demanding that he take me out for a nice dinner, he finally relented.  We drove to Outback Steakhouse.  But when we got to the parking lot, he told me to wait in the car.  I did, thinking he was running ahead to put our name on the waiting list.  Sadly, no.  That was not the case.  A few minutes later he emerged with two plastic bags containing plastic cutlery and Styrofoam boxes.  Oh he got his Shrimp on the Barbie, I got my Petite Sirloin, and we even got a Bloomin' Onion to share.  PilotHusband figured out that if we got the same food that we would have ordered in the restaurant, but ordered it to go, he would save 15% on a tip!  THEN he pulled out a small cooler from the backseat and produced beverages, saving us even more money.  He tried to say he was being romantic... like taking me to a drive-in movie... only without the movie.  Yeah right.

But just when I thought he couldn't get any cheaper.... he has outdone himself yet again.  Lately, PilotHusband has had a lot of LAX overnights.  When he returns home, he always brings a copy of the LA Times back with him (that he got for free at the hotel).  This seemed strange to me.  He's more of a Wall Street Journal kind of guy.  One day I noticed he had thrown the LA Times in the trash.  I pulled it out, thinking I could use it to line the bottom of the Guinea Pig cage (because when you think about it, that's all the LA Times is really good for).  That's when I noticed that there were several neatly cut rectangular holes in the paper.  PilotHusband had been regularly cutting something out.  But what could it be?

[Before I continue.... let's have a little lesson in cultural differences, shall we?  Here in rural North Carolina, when someone passes away, after a day or two, we have a church service followed by a reception in either the church fellowship hall, or the family home.  Everyone brings a covered dish and talks about how wonderful the deceased was.  Then we stick them in the ground between the church and the softball field.  Done.  In Hollywood / Los Angeles, popularity is just as important in death as it is in life.  Often, memorial services are delayed for weeks to secure a big enough venue, or allow people to fit it into their schedules, to allow for the maximum amount of mourners.]

So... PilotHusband has been cutting out, and saving OBITUARIES!  Why?  My cheap-ass Hubby is keeping a catalogue of memorial services so that if he gets another long LAX overnight in the next few weeks he can show up for the free food and drinks.  He thinks that as long as he wears his hat (and he always wears his hat) and shows up looking like a "Double-Breasted Van Admiral" that he will be welcomed with open arms and pointed to the buffet.  I shit you not.

If you can beat this, my fellow AngryPilotWives, please e-mail me and let me know.  As for now, I have the pleasure of being married to the cheapest Pilot of them all.  I'm so proud.

Wednesday, July 17, 2013


I don't make the rules.... I just live by them.  While I am a firm believer in shades of grey (and I'm talking about ambiguity... NOT the "Mommy porn" books), I recognize that there are certain black and white, finite, truisms in the Universe.

1.     When your Best Drinking Buddy stops returning your calls, chances are he's newly released from rehab, and in accordance with "Step 4", he's not allowed to play with you any more.  Bummer.

2.     No matter how clear and beautiful the weather is, and regardless of the time of year, if your PilotHusband flies to Europe, he will return with a harrowing tale of "flying over the FROZEN NORTH ATLANTIC".  Just roll with it, Ladies.

3.     When a previously "normal" PilotBuddy starts posting Bible quotes on his FaceBook page, it means he just got busted cheating on his wife, is going through a nasty divorce, and is trying to improve his image for the upcoming litigation.

4.     If an AngryPilotWife types "you" into the address bar on the computer, it will auto fill "YouPorn" instead of "YouTube".  Its not your PilotHusband's fault.  That's just how the alphabet works.

5.     Pilots don't listen (unless you're talking over a radio... from the control tower).  No matter how many times you tell your husband that the recent heavy rains are driving venomous copperhead snakes into the open, and regardless of how many times he has watched you hack one of these poisonous snakes to death in the back yard with a shovel (through the window, as he lays on the couch, watching the Military Channel), he will inevitably come home and announce that he heard on the radio that all the heavy rain will be driving Copperheads into the yard.  REALLY?!

6.     Pilots are good at long term goals.  They SUCK at short term goals.  This is why your PilotHusband will insure money for your child's education, and ample resources for retirement, but you CANNOT put him in charge of planning your child's birthday party or any other occasion.  If PilotHusband were in charge of Christmas, we'd have to convert to Judaism;  then at least he'd have 8 days to get it right.

7.     In the Zombie Apocalypse, you're better off picking Ving Rhames than Brad Pitt, for your team.  I'm just saying.

8.     PilotHusbands have no short term memory.  When he announces that we have enough pets and we shouldn't adopt any more creatures, just wait until he leaves for a trip.  Then you can adopt a Guinea Pig from PetSmart, and take in 4 fuzzy little chicks (that need to be incubated in a fish tank in your formal dining room).  He won't remember his mandate when he gets home.  Oh, he'll still be pissed about the zoo that you are collecting, however he won't be pissed that you defied his dictate... because he won't remember it.

9.     Happy Places are important.  When your PilotHusband starts telling the tale about how he greased on his last landing (for the 47th time), pretend to be interested and just go to your happy place.  Mine usually involves George Clooney and a bottle of Spicy Italian Salad Dressing... but that part is entirely up to you.

The Universe has been around for a very long time.  Do not fight the Universe.  Accept the finite, and revel in the infinite.  Learn to accept what IS, and explore what COULD BE.  Sorry to get all Yoda on you, but that's how I see it.

Sunday, July 7, 2013


Boys... pour yourselves a glass of Johnnie Walker Blue Label, and keep the bottle handy.  Ladies... get out a glass and keep the box of wine close by.  The good news is, I am going to save you $347.00 (plus shipping and handling).  The bad news; we might be here a while.

It has come to my attention that there are seminars you can attend, and a 6 hour (ugh!) dvd course available for purchase; all about improving Pilot/Spouse relationships.  To the best of my understanding, the theory is, the qualities that make someone a good Pilot are in direct conflict with the personality characteristics that make someone a good spouse.  Okay.  I get it.  Just do an Internet search of "Pilot personality traits" and you will get a bevy of profession articles on the topic.  Even the "great and powerful" ALPA has acknowledged this.  But the secondary point doesn't ring true for me.  The theory (again, to the best of MY understanding) goes on to say that Pilots are not born; they are trained.  If we can train someone to embrace the qualities that make a good Pilot, we can train them to exhibit qualities that make a good partner.  REALLY?

If the theory were valid, here's what would happen.  At the end of 6 mind-numbing hours of dvd lectures, we would have PilotHusbands who rubbed our feet, changed diapers, fixed things around the house, talked about their feelings, and ACTUALLY cared about what happened at our last book club meeting.  HOWEVER, after removing the "Pilotness" from our PilotHusbands, we'd have planes falling out of the skies.  Face it.  That which drives us crazy in the marriage, keeps everybody (including our PilotHusbands) SAFE.  So.... save $347 and Cowgirl Up!

Reality check, my Sisters.... you CHOSE to marry a Pilot.  Or, you chose that really cute boy in college who said he wanted to go to Law School until he took his first flight lesson and then you had to drop out of Grad school to help pay for his flight training... (Oooops. Sorry. That's me).  Anyway, I'm just suggesting that we knew what we were getting into.  Do NOT change him!  The things that drive you crazy are the very things that make him good at his job.  Instead, learn to adapt and cope.

Let's take a moment to address some of the Pilot personality traits.  Pilots are self-sufficient.  Being married to a Pilot is like owning a cat.  They do their own thing... until they are done doing their own thing... and then they want to snuggle aggressively, regardless of your schedule.  If you own a cat, or a Pilot, you have to let it do its own thing, and appreciate it when its ready to be loved on.  If you can accept that from a cat (who doesn't help pay the mortgage), why can't you tolerate it from a Pilot?

According to the research, Pilots have difficulty trusting anyone to do a task as well as they can.  This is why your Pilothusband leaves you alone for days at a time with your child, and leaves you to deal with the diaper rash, colic, and strep throat, but comes home and tries to micro-manage your every move.  When he starts to lecture you about child care, do NOT engage him in a long conversation (especially if it involves "feelings"-- that's a Pilot's Kryptonite).  Instead, just say "Roger that".  This is the most useful, beautiful, awesome phrase on the planet.  It neither admits wrong-doing on your part, nor superiority on his; it simply lets him know you heard him... and he will let it go.

Generally speaking, Pilot's are unemotional.  This makes them good at dealing with an emergency.  They analyze the data, and choose to act accordingly.  However, this makes them cold and insensitive in personal relationships.  Hello?  That's why we have girlfriends!  Feeling unappreciated?  Fat?  Overwhelmed?  Lonely?  DO NOT DISCUSS THIS WITH YOUR PILOTHUSBAND!  Get a sitter and meet the girls out for cocktails.  Can't find a sitter?  E-mail me at to get it off your chest.  But under NO circumstances are you to discuss sad/uncomfortable/discontented feelings with a PilotHusband.  No good can come from that.  You are simply setting yourself up for failure.

It is widely acknowledged that Pilots prefer to modify their environment, than change their behavior.  This is why they are willing to change bases to stay on the same equipment.  Keep this in mind before you drag them to a dinner party or a Parent Advisory Council Meeting at your child's school.  Your PilotHusband is who he is.  He will not change.  Think twice before you subject him to an environment he doesn't like.

The personality characteristics list is extensive, but I don't want to turn this into a boring 6 hour dvd  lecture series.    All I'm saying is there are a lot of qualities that any sane woman would find maddening.  But there are a lot of good ones, as well.  Separate the wheat from the chaff.  Love that which is admirable, and deal with the other stuff.  You are a PilotWife.  You are part of a sisterhood.  Rely on your sisters.  Do not expect that from your PilotHusband that he is unable to give.

Please check back to this site for my upcoming dvd series:  You Married a Pilot... Suck It Up.  Available soon for only $299.00!

Thursday, July 4, 2013


Hello.  My name is AngryPilotWife... and I am a Redneck.  There is no support or recovery group for this because there ain't one damn thing wrong with being a Redneck!  Let's get our terminology straight.  With no disrespect to Jeff Foxworthy, being a Redneck doesn't mean you live in a single-wide trailer with the first cousin you married.  Being a Redneck means you love your country, love your family, love your community, work hard, play hard, know everyone in church by name, and you are friends with at least 4 men over the age of 75, regardless of your age.

PilotHusband, although born and raised in the South, is definitely NOT a Redneck.  It got me thinking about the similarities and differences between Rednecks and Air Line Pilots.  Here's what I came up with....

Similarity: Air Line Pilots and Rednecks both have a favorite hat.  For Pilots, its the uniform hat they worked for years to get.  They spend hours, at home, drinking Scotch, watching the Military Channel, bending the hat, until they achieve the perfect look.  And sadly, for most Pilots, they end up looking like U-Boat Captains.  Rednecks love their hats too.  For us, its a ball cap that is faded from hours in the sun, stained with sweat, and (if broken in correctly) slightly frayed at the brim.  Pilot hats are useful, as they convey professionalism, authority, and rank.  Redneck hats are useful, as they keep the sun out of your eyes, the sweat from rolling down your face, and can be used to swat at horse flies or hornets when working outside.

Difference:  This one is a bit tricky.  While both Air Line Pilots and Rednecks may drive a pickup truck, only Rednecks actually USE their truck.  Pilots may drive a truck, but they don't actually use it for anything.  A redneck uses his (or her) truck to tow a bass boat, haul in a load of hay, deliver firewood, or illuminate a kick-ass party in the middle of a field.  If a Pilot's truck gets dirty, he heads off to the nearest car wash.  If a Redneck's truck gets dirty, it fills us with a sense of pride because it shows everyone that we either had the most fun or worked the hardest.

Similarity:  Pilots and Rednecks tend to be Republicans and hard core Constitutionalists.  Pilots believe in the Right to Free Speech.  Rednecks practice it frequently, saying exactly what is on their mind.  We just preface it with "I mean no disrespect, but..." or "Bless your heart...".  Pilots believe in the Right to Bare Arms.  Rednecks do it frequently.  We hunt and eat what we kill  We have target practice.  However it involves empty beer cans in a field instead of some fancy range with a cigar lounge.  If you show up at the end of our dirt driveway, we'll rack a Winchester Defender, just before we greet you warmly, just to be on the safe side.

Difference:  Pilots hire, Rednecks do.  An Air Line Pilot looks at the pine tree that fell in his yard during the last storm and calls someone to remove it.  A Redneck chunks up the pine tree that fell in his yard and hauls it off to the field for an awesome bonfire party.

Difference:  Anthems.  The standard Pilot anthem, whether they admit it or not, is Kenny Loggins singing "Danger Zone" from the movie Top Gun.  For us Rednecks; we gravitate towards Garth Brooks' "I Got Friends in Low Places" or Toby Keith singing "Red Solo Cup".

All in all, if we could get Pilots to go mudding instead of flying, shoot some soda pop cans instead of going to the FFDO requal range, and use their hands for something other than... well... that thing they do while watching You.Porn, this might be the start of a beautiful friendship!


Tuesday, July 2, 2013


Lionel Ritchie sang "Easy Like Sunday Morning". I didn't know he was a pilot.  Lionel must be, because when PilotHusband is home, Sunday mornings are super easy for him.... not so much for AngryPilotWife.  Here's the timeline for the past Sunday.  Decide for yourself.  Oh and please excuse the Zulu Time... that's how we roll.

1000Z (6:00AM)  AngryPilotWife wakes up... because that's what time APW wakes up every day.  PilotHusband is wrapped in all the covers like some mutant caterpillar and snoring like a bulldozer with a misfiring engine.

1100Z (7:00AM)  APW finishes sucking down 2 Monster energy drinks and watching the local morning news.  PilotHusband shuffles past, naked, and gets a glass of water from the kitchen.  He announces. "We are NOT going to church this morning" and he goes back to bed.

1300Z (9:00AM)  After feeding the chickens, changing the hay in their nesting box, feeding the toads, tadpoles, newly metamorphosed baby frogs, the dog, the cat, the snails, and the Guinea Pig, APW wakes the child, feeds him breakfast and dresses him.  Then we depart for church, telling the congregation that PilotHusband is on a trip.  PilotHusband continues to snore in his makeshift chrysalis.

1430Z (10:30AM) Upon returning from church, APW finds PilotHusband sitting on the sofa, watching FoxNews and drinking coffee, wearing a white terry bathrobe, looking like a cranky polar bear.  APW changes into work clothes, gets out her Ryobi saw and heads out to the back yard to start chunking up the trees we lost in the last big thunderstorm.

1530Z (11:30AM) APW comes back in the house to get a cold bottle of water.  PilotHusband is laying on the sofa, drinking a Leffe, watching "The Longest Day" on the Military Channel (for the 57th time).  He barely notices APW lugging her Ryobi paint sprayer out the back door to apply primer to 600 feet of cinder block retaining wall because its that great scene when they storm Sword Beach with Sean Connery.  Who could fault him for that?

1615Z (12:15PM) APW comes back in the house to fetch her drill, saw, hardware cloth, and ferring strips, announcing that she must repair the enclosure around the chicken coop because the bobcat, fox, or coyote, tried to get in.  PilotHusband does not notice this because he's watching Richard Burton get shot down (you know, the part where he breaks his leg and waits for the GIs and the guy has his boots on the wrong feet... cinematic genius).

I could go on and on.  Suffice it to say, the critters all got fed, APW and our son got some religion, the trees got cut, the retaining wall got painted, the chicken coop enclosure got repaired, and an acre and a half of grass got mowed.  As for PilotHusband, he drank coffee and watched FoxNews, he drank Leffe and watched "The Longest Day", then he drank Scotch and watched the "Hitler's Henchmen" marathon.  Oh yeah, then I cooked him dinner.

"Easy Like Sunday Morning"?????  No disrespect to the Commodores, but Lionel Ritchie can bite me.  For all you self-sufficient AngryWives, and you PilotHusbands who do more than fly airplanes and watch the Military Channel, please check out the link to Ryobi.  I really do own these tools, use them ("cause no one else in this house would), and recommend them.


Saturday, June 22, 2013


In truth, real pilots do not age gracefully.  So, in truth, if you want to grow older with grace and dignity, you may want to view these guidelines as a cautionary tale... and do the exact opposite.  But if you are a real Air Line Pilot, here's how to approach old age.

Step One.....  Ignore the empirical evidence that our metabolism slows with age.  Eat as much as you ever did; if not more.  Refuse to buy clothes in a larger size.  Instead, buy the same size waistband, and let your ever increasing gut hang over the top.  Chicks dig that.

Step Two.....  Even though every movie and child's toy comes with a recommendation as to what is age appropriate; that does not apply to you.  If you find yourself over 50 and single, find a girlfriend that is half your age or less.  People will look at you and think, "What a virile and attractive man".  No one will think your new playmate is a gold-digger, or  has unresolved daddy issues.  A woman's love of shiny things doesn't have to mean jewelry... it could totally apply to the sheen on your bald spot.

Step Three...  Darwin is an idiot.  Do NOT evolve!  Stay just as you are!  Rock those acid-washed jeans and that Member's Only Jacket.  Keep that HUGE Nokia cell phone... everyone knows "Snakes" is a much better game than "Angry Birds".

Step Four....  When your cell phone provider contacts you to inform you that your phone is sooooo old, it will be obsolete in a few weeks and no longer usable, finally upgrade to a new smart phone.  Spend the next two weeks unable to figure out how to answer your phone.  Spend the next 5 months harassing your First Officers into teaching you how to use your new phone.

Step Five....  Plan for your retirement.  For most folks, this means sitting down with a financial planner and addressing your IRA and 401K.  For REAL Pilots, planning for retirement means escalating your complaints about the current Administration, and threatening to move your family to Costa Rica, the D.R., Sweden, Norway, or Cuba (once Castro is dead).

Step Six.....  Do NOT go grey!  Let's face it.  You are not Sean Connery.  There is a reason the Silver Fox is on the Endangered Species List.  Slather on that Grecian Formula for Men until your hair is the color of brown shoe polish.  Deep down inside, women have been conditioned to be attracted to men with single tone, brown hair... just like a Ken doll.  If it was good enough for Barbie, its good enough for the rest of us.

Step Seven...  Finally, remember the words of that immortal song from the early days of rock and roll... "Shake, Rattle, and Roll".  You are at you sexiest when, as you walk through the airport, your belly shakes, the Lipitor, Viagra, and Cialis in your pocket rattle, and your crew bag continues to roll.  Rock on, you aging Pilots!  Like a fine wine, you get better with age.

*** I'd like to send a special greeting and thank you to my readers in Latvia.  How on Earth you found my blog, I'll never know!  But I truly appreciate your continued support!  Your country is now third in readership... behind the US and United Arab Emirates.  Cheers! 

Saturday, June 8, 2013


In Mr. Ruggerio's 6th grade class, we had to write an essay about what we wanted to be when we grew up, and why.  These were read at an assembly in front of our parents and all the faculty.  I distinctly recall sitting through (what seemed like hours) of "I want to be a Veterinarian because I love dogs" and "I want to be a Baseball Player because it would be cool".  When it was my turn, I read my essay, entitled "I Want to be a Benevolent Despot... because my way is better".  Charming, right?  I guess some dreams die hard, because I still maintain a list of rules that will be enforced when APW rules the world.  Some may seem harsh, but trust me, we'd all be better off.

1.     Twinkies, Little Debbie Snack Cakes, Big Gulp Slushies, Taco Bell drive thru food (after 10:00pm) and gas station nachos may only be consumed by Stoners.  If you are not sporting a Baja hoodie, tie-dyed shirt, or Birkenstock sandals, just walk away.

2.     All Pilots, upon marriage, shall submit to wearing a device similar to a dog's shock collar.  Said Pilots will agree to receive a corrective shock after the fifteenth time they mention their Air Line, their aircraft, how awesome their last landing was, or what a pain the Captain (or F/O) was on their last trip, within a 24 hour period.

3.     All participants of any "reality" show involving children's pageants, Bachelors, Bachelorettes, Housewives, top models, ballroom dancing,  or Bridezillas will be flogged publicly.

4.     All satellite and cable providers would be required to provide a Zombie Channel... all zombies, all the time.  How cool is that?

5.     Realtors would be banned from displaying business cards, advertisements, or for sale signs displaying their Glamor Shots photo.  (Okay, that's not really a big deal-- but it annoys me).  I know these bitches, and they don't really look like that.

6.     Perry the Platypus for President.  Enough said.

7.     All Military Channel programming will become pay-per-view.  Given that all Pilots are cheap, this will force them to decide if watching "The Battle of the Bulge"  for the 57th time is really worth $5.99.  I'm betting they say no, and let someone else have the remote.

8.     Any family seen in public with their heads buried in a tablet or smart phone instead of talking to each other will have their devices confiscated and be immediately shipped off to the nearest Chucky Cheese for some family interaction.

9.     Under no circumstances, will In-Laws be permitted to live in your home.  If you want a multi-generational experience, move to China.  This is America, and we have a Constitutional right to hate our In-Laws (okay, it's not Constitutional, but it should be).

10.    Anyone who tells a child that Santa, the Easter Bunny, or the Tooth Fairy doesn't exist, will be executed... and their family will be charged for the bullet.

11.    The Department of Agriculture will recognize wine as a serving of fruit and acknowledge cheese as a major food group.

Its only 11 items, but I assure you, if we could implement these mandates, the world would be a better place ;D

Thursday, June 6, 2013


Occasionally, PilotHusband pries himself off of the sofa, turns off the Military Channel, and takes the family on vacation.  And, yes.... we do it "PilotStyle".  I have learned that while a Pilot can take a vacation, he can't take a vacation from being a pilot.  The same quirks, habits, and desires, follow them where ever they go.  Sooo, here's how to take a vacation like a real Pilot.

Step One.... Choose the location.  Most people might go to Disneyland, a cruise, or an all-inclusive beach resort.  Not if you're a real Pilot.  When you are a real Pilot, you take your family to the most sacred of locations; the most hallowed ground; the epicenter of the Universe.  You take your family to your Air Lines' corporate headquarters.  So we packed up to take a vacation in the homeland of Mother D: Atlanta, Georgia.

Step Two....  Decide how to get there.  It is a highly accepted fact that Real Pilots do not drive ANYWHERE.  In addition, Real Pilots like free stuff.  So, no matter how close you live to "Mecca", you are gonna' have to get on an airplane and non-rev.  I can jump in my truck, and be in ATL in four hours from my driveway... but that's just silly!  Instead we drove 45 minutes to CLT, spent 20 minutes on the employee parking lot bus, one hour through security, 30 minutes of boarding, 45 minutes of ground delay, 45 minutes in flight, 20 minutes taxiing and waiting for a gate, 15 minutes to deplane, 20 minutes exiting the airport, and 30 minutes waiting for the hotel van.  Yeah, that was so much better than driving.  (I'll let you do the math).

Step Three..  Book the hotel room.  Do NOT book a hotel room in a swanky uptown neighborhood.  Do NOT get a room at a hotel close to family-friendly attractions.  Do NOT get a hotel room with a beach, mountain, or skyline view.  Instead, be sure to get a room in an airport hotel, closest to the active runways.  Be sure to ask for a room on the airport side.  Spend HOURS of "family time" sitting on the balcony, watching "your" airplane take-off and land.  Who cares if the roar of jet engines makes any conversation (or sleep) impossible?  I'm just happy he didn't sleep out there.

Step Four...  Begrudgingly agree to some sort of family friendly activity so that your AngryPilotWife doesn't change the door locks the next time you go back to work.  However, this is only required if your wife already purchased tickets for the activity (with your credit card) beforehand.  Knowing we would need a break from our descent into aviation overdose, APW purchased tickets to the Georgia Aquarium and booked a special interactive, behind the scenes, Dolphin Experience for the family. 

Step Five...  Make some time for what makes you happy.  For PilotHusband, this meant making the family go on a forced march for about 3/4 of a mile to the Delta Museum.  Given our 6 yr old son was still worn out from the Aquarium trip, this meant APW got to walk a mile and a half, round trip, with a 45 pound child on my back.  But we got to see lots of stuff with "Widgets" on it.  Cool.

Step Six...  Steal the toilet paper.  As you prepare to leave the room each day, be sure to take every roll and hide it in your suitcase.  Housekeeping will replace it in your absence.  When your wife decides to use the bathroom before heading out for the day, and comes back out to say "There's no toilet paper... I guess I can hold it", say nothing.  Wait until you get home and she finds six rolls of toilet paper in your suitcase.  Oh how you will both laugh!  (not really)

Step Seven..  After a lengthy non-rev trip home, be sure to stop on the way back to the house to run some random personal errand.  Pick up your dry cleaning, get your oil changed, or in our case, stop by the Sprint store to spend and hour picking up your new smart phone (that you still can't use).  Its the perfect end to the perfect PilotHusband family trip.

**  All snarky, meanness, aside... APW highly recommends a trip to the Georgia Aquarium.  The exhibits are awesome!  We did the Dolphin Experience (which runs about $50 per person) and it was AMAZING!  The three of us got to spend time, poolside, with a trainer and a dolphin and pet her (the dolphin, not the trainer... 'cause otherwise that would be weird).  Interestingly, even the Dolphin knew that Pilots are a pain in the ass.  We each got to give the dolphin commands to do a trick.  APW touched her nose, and she made a vocalization.  Our son touched her nose, and she made a vocalization.  PilotHusband touched her nose, and she spit water all over PilotHusband!  I guess they are truly intelligent creatures after all.
***  As much as I hate to admit it, the view of the runway from the 10th floor of the Renaissance Airport Hotel was pretty cool.  Our son loved the indoor and outdoor pools, the hot tub, and the glass elevators... and the staff was extremely pleasant.

Thursday, May 30, 2013


Okay... brace yourselves.  This one is kinda' mean. (As if soooo many other posts weren't).  PilotHusband quit smoking 2 years ago.  Good for him!  I am very proud and pleased that he made a healthy choice to insure he would be around for many years to come.  But in lieu of cigarettes, he has substituted food as his drug of choice.  And now he is.... well.... sort of.... kinda'... well...  FAT.

So, PilotHusband is so fat...

He tried to rock himself out of bed, and ended up rocking himself back to sleep.

When he says he flies a wide body... he's not talking about the aircraft.

When we go to the beach, Green Peace shows up and shoves him in the water, trying to save his life.

Golden Corral installed speed bumps to try to slow him down.

He chased down a school bus full of white kids, screaming "Stop that Twinkie!".

When he turns around, people throw him a "Welcome Back" Party.

He beeps when he walks backwards.

Because he is in the right seat, Gate Agents have to fill the left side of the aircraft to avoid weight and balance issues.

He doesn't have belly button lint... he has SWEATERS.

Bless his heart, he tries.  But, I think I need to start hiding the ice cream... and the chips.... and the pasta... and the candy.

Sunday, May 19, 2013


Thank you to all of my readers who have e-mailed and posted messages concerned with my prolonged absence.  So sorry to leave you hanging.  APW has been dealing with a bit of a health crisis since the end of March that has not left much time for blogging.  But this is not the place for medical drama; this IS the place for snarky, funny, mean-spirited PilotHusband bashing!  So lets get back to what I do best... well, second best... I'll leave THAT to the imagination ; ) 

Soooo.... Equal Time Point.  For those of you unfamiliar with the term, ETP is a calculation used when flying over the "Frozen North Atlantic".  No really.  It doesn't matter what time of year it is, Atlantic currents, or global warming.  According to PilotHusband, every time he flies to Europe, he must brave the "Frozen North Atlantic" (insert your own ominous music here). To make it simple, ETP is the halfway point of your journey.  If you are flying from Paris to NYC, for example, you have calculated your Equal Time Point.  If you have an emergency BEFORE the Equal Time Point, you turn around and head back to where you came from, and start over with a new, or repaired aircraft.  If you have an emergency AFTER the Equal Time Point, there is no turning back.  You continue to your intended destination.

Much is the same with marriage.  I don't mean to shatter your illusions of romance, but seriously?!  On PilotHusband's best day, he brings me a bottle of perfume, or box of chocolates, from Duty Free, and spends the next three days telling me how much money he saved.  On an average day, he brings me a plate or bowl that he "liberated" from hotel room service.  On his worst day, I get nothing but a lecture about how hard his last trip was, as he retires to the sofa for four days of Military Channel watching.  When you are married to a PilotHusband, you must alter your definition of romance.

Therefore, I considered it incredibly romantic when PilotHusband took the time to calculate our ETP.  PilotHusband took the number of years that we have been together, and divided it by my age.  It turns out that I have been with PilotHusband for 51.11% of my life.  Therefore (according to PilotHusband) I have no choice but to continue on this path.  There is no turning back.  There is no acquisition of a new airplane.  I have no choice but to make it work with a one engine flame out, maintenance placarded inop stickers, and questionable landing gear. 

Perhaps we could have done this mathematical exercise when I was at 49%?


Wednesday, March 13, 2013


So... one night, several weeks ago, AngryPilotWife had a few glasses of wine and decided it was time to get back in shape.  As motivation to do so, I announced, on the APW Facebook page, that I would be participating in the "Rugged Maniac" 5K run in Ashboro, NC at the end of April.  It is 3.1 miles of Navy Seal inspired obstacles... sheer walls, flooded tubes, mud fields, and perhaps a small wall of fire to jump over.  Heck, if I could survive 22 years with my PilotHusband, surely I could crawl through a little mud.  And I invited other PilotWives to join me.

HOLY SHAMOLEY!!!  My girls came through for me!  To date, we have United, Delta, SWA, USAirways,  Republic, and AmericanEagle Wives ready to run.  Some of us are very fit.   Others, like me,  think jogging is a pain because you can't help but spill your glass of wine as you run.  No matter.  We will get through this together.  As much as I'd like to kick some ass, this is really about PilotWife bonding, getting dirty, having fun, and cleaning up afterwards for a girl's night out in BFE North Carolina.

So, LAST CALL!!!  You don't have to be fit, you don't have to be fast.  You just have to be willing!  If you can't complete an obstacle, you can walk around it.  The important thing, is doing this crazy mud/water/fire thing TOGETHER.  Oh, by the way, there's free beer at the end!  And I will be providing the, first ever, AngryPilotWife T-shirts for all of the participants.

Please e-mail me at if you are interested in participating.  You can view the course for the Ashboro NC race at  Come on, Girls..... Let's do this!!!

Thursday, March 7, 2013


Okay, boys and girls... for those of you counting down, we have one week to go until Steak and Blow Job Day.  Remember, PilotHusbands; this is a reciprocal holiday.  Recognizing that Valentine's Day is pretty much a "chick thing", Steak and Blow Job Day is meant to reward you for your efforts on February 14th.  If you did NOT adequately demonstrate your love and affection to your woman last month, well... no T-bone for you!

For those of you who have no idea what I'm talking about, please refer to the blog, posted on March 12, 2012.

AngryPilotWife has a bit of a quandary regarding the March 14th holiday.  Technically, PilotHusband did order 2 dozen roses to be delivered the day before Valentine's Day, however, FedEx left them, erroneously, at a neighbor's house. Thus, PilotHusband spend the entire day, on the phone, screaming at ProFlowers and FedEx about what an important person he was. Only when our neighbor returned home from work at 6:00pm and carried the box of roses over to us, did the situation get resolved.  Yes, he (finally) remembered Valentine's Day... but was it Steak and Blow Job worthy?  I'm sort of thinking this earned him a NY strip steak and a reach around.

Just remember, PilotWives, Pavlov had a point.  We must reward good behavior to make it more likely to occur in the future.  But "Hannibal Lector" also had a point... "Quid pro quo, Agent Staring".  In life, and love, you get, in perfect measure and symmetry, what you give.

For those of you who have earned it... Happy Steak and Blow Job Day to you!

Sunday, March 3, 2013


I hate smoke detectors.  I know, I know... they save a lot of lives.  One or two are okay.  But when we built our house, County Building Code required us to place a smoke detector in each of the four bedrooms; a fifth one in the upstairs hallway; a sixth one in the downstairs foyer; and number seven just inside the garage door.  They are all hard-wired in and if one goes off, they all go off, creating a noise loud enough to tear a whole in the fabric of Space-Time.  Here's the fun part... occasionally, one starts to chirp intermittently, for no apparent reason.

Such was the case tonight.  The smoke detector in the upstairs office/bedroom began to chirp.  At first, PilotHusband didn't notice this because he was laying on the sofa, watching yet another war movie with the volume set on level 43. APW and FuturePilotSon tried to fix the problem.  We got up on a ladder and dusted for any spider webs that may have triggered the sensors.  We went downstairs and searched the kitchen junk drawers for a new 9 volt battery, in case that was the issue.  Simultaneously, we called "Uncle Red" to have him talk me through closing the electrical circuit on this particular smoke detector.

Meanwhile, PilotHusband finally heard the sound and leap into action.  While APW and FuturePilotSon were in the kitchen, PilotHusband went upstairs and did the only reasonable thing.  He began to beat the smoke detector with a broom handle until it fell apart in several pieces all over the floor.  With live wires hanging, PilotHusband declared the Beast had been slayed, and retreated once again to the comfort of the sofa, and the Military Channel.  Problem solved.

Well... at least he didn't call Maintenance and wait at Starbucks.

Thursday, February 28, 2013


A few years ago, PilotHusband and I were watching a television show about "Black Widow" killers... women who murdered their husbands.  One woman killed three husbands in a row, poisoning them with Arsenic.  The narrator went on to describe how arsenic leaves a slight almond aftertaste when ingested.  So what did AngryPilotWife do?  I went to Costco and purchased a huge bottle of Almond Extract.  For months to follow, I added it to EVERYTHING that PilotHusband ate or drank.  I mixed it in the mashed potatoes, I added it to his morning coffee, I'd even add a few drops to his beer when he wasn't looking.  What fun!  PilotHusband became very nervous, and for a time, was on his best behavior.

As I write this, PilotHusband is glued to the TV, forgoing his beloved MilitaryChannel to watch the minute by minute coverage of the Jodi Arias Murder Trial.  Hmmm... that gives me a few ideas.  Maybe I'll hack into his email, or show up unexpectedly on his overnights... over and over and over again.  Perhaps I'll suggest we rent a nondescript white car and take a road trip.  I could suggest we take racy pictures of each other.  I just might start photographing him while he's in the shower.  This is gonna' be AWESOME!

I've got to go.  I want to remove the license plate off my truck before they recess for lunch!

Tuesday, February 26, 2013


I am taking a break from snarky mockery of  my PilotHusband to salute, and pay homage to, the ULTIMATE pilot.  You Piedmont "Silver Eagles" and USAir folks know the legend, the man, the UberPilot.... Captain Jim Brown.  He was the icon, the mold, the role model, the superhero of professional aviation.

The stories about him are legendary.  They have been told and re-told countless times, at hotel bars on long overnights, crew rooms during hot reserve duty, and cockpits during departure delays.  Each time a story was repeated, no doubt, it became more fantastical, more mythical, more unbelievable... or maybe not.  Perhaps the stories I heard were as accurately told as the morning after the events unfolded.  Maybe, just maybe, Captain Jim Brown was the real deal.  If that's the case, we must all bow down and worship him, as the one true God of Aviation.

I've seen photos of the man.  He sure looked like the perfect Air Line Captain; pot-bellied, unkempt, graying, smiling, and a yellowed uniform shirt with mustard stains on his necktie... and oddly magnetic.

The stories... oh, where to begin?!  There was the one about him playing poker while overnighting in the Bahamas.  Out of cash, but with a pretty good hand, he threw the keys to the Boeing into the pot.  Unfortunately, someone at the table had a better hand.  So next he did the only reasonable thing.  He called operations and told them he needed $10,000 wired to him immediately if they ever wanted their airplane (or their crew) back.  In this day and age, that might be called piracy, but back in the day, it was just Captain Jim Brown having a good time.

Then there was the one about the crew hotel in London.  The rooms were never ready when they arrived, forcing an exhausted crew to mill about the lobby for hours, waiting to check in.  Capt. Brown fixed that situation.  When told the rooms were not ready (again), he stripped down to his stained undershirt, black socks, and jockey shorts and laid down on the sete in the middle of the lobby to take a nap.  After a few minutes of his snoring and farting (simultaneously), he was awoken by the hotel staff with the news that all the crew rooms were ready.  And they never had that problem again.  In this day and age, that might be called indecent exposure, but back in the day, it was just Capt. Jim Brown taking care of business.

My favorite story was about his paycheck.  Piedmont Airlines paid Pilots and Flight Attendants twice a month.  The check on the 30th was small, covering just half a month of guarantee pay.  But the check on the 15th was much larger, covering the other half of guarantee, hours flown above that, per diem, night differential, and international pay.  Somehow, Capt. Brown convinced his wife that his ONLY compensation was the small paycheck at the end of each month.  Then one day, she discovered the check stub from the 15th paycheck.  She was furious!  But unphased, and slicker than "Cool Hand Luke", he looked at his wife and explained that the 15th paycheck was used to buy fuel for the aircraft, pay the Flight Attendants, pay for the crew's hotel rooms, and the caterers that stocked the plane.  After all that, there was nothing left of that paycheck.  In this day and age, that might be called withholding marital assets, but back in the day, it was just Captain Jim Brown making sure his family didn't live above their means.

I think Heaven looks like the dive bar at the old Airways Hotel.  When I get there, I hope to be greeted by Captain Jim Brown, telling stories, holding court, and ready to share a pitcher of beer and a plate of hot wings. 


Monday, February 18, 2013


Being married to an Air Line Pilot is unlike committing yourself (and I use that term specifically) to any other subspecies of Man.  For you Newlyweds out there; fasten your seat belts.  There's turbulence ahead.  For you Senior Wives, sit back, pour yourself another glass of wine, and find solace in the fact that you are not alone.

You know you're married to an Air Line Pilot when.....

the mother of your child's classmate invites you to her church's "Divorce Care" meeting, having noticed the absence of a husband at every field trip, recital, award ceremony, field day, and class party.  This forces you to politely explain that you are not, in fact, divorced.  You're just married to a Pilot.

your six year old can identify tank silhouettes, Hitler's Henchmen, every WWII aircraft, and knows all the words to "The Halls of Montezuma" due to his constant exposure to The Military Channel.

you check the browser history on your computer and the first two sites are always YouPorn and AirLinePilotCentral; in that order.

you tell your PilotHusband about something that needs repair around the house he tells you to "call Maintenance".

within 5 minutes of your PilotHusband returning from a 4 day trip, (to a pristine, polished, and scrubbed home) you find a pile of dirty socks, undershirts, and man panties in the middle of your kitchen floor.

after he returns home from a red-eye flight, you are not at all phased by the sight of a pot-bellied man, clad in his underpants and black socks, sprawled out on the sofa, drinking beer, and watching Band of Brothers, at 9:00 in the morning.

you hear about the unfortunate demise of a fellow Pilot, and your first question is, "Was he senior to you?".  (Don't hate the messenger... we've all done it.  And if you haven't; you will)

your PilotHusband has more conversations with you on the phone while on overnights, than he does face-to-face when he is at home.

you don't have to worry about stocking up on cranberry juice, Coca-Cola, 7-Up, or Tonic Water, because real Pilots drink their liquor straight.

he never surprises you with what he's wearing because you are the one who purchased his clothes, laundered them, and hung them in his closet.  Otherwise, he'd still be wearing the same underpants and cargo shorts with the HUGE holes in the crotch that allowed his "dangly bits" to hang out.  There's a reason the UPS delivery guy doesn't ring the doorbell anymore!

So, celebrate your strength and independence, fellow PilotWives!  And try to hide your smile when your PilotHusband asks your child, "Who's the Boss of this house?" and he immediately replies, "Mommy is".


Friday, February 15, 2013


Believe it or not, after 22 years of total failure, PilotHusband remembered Valentine's Day.  PilotHusband planned in advance.  PilotHusband ordered a lovely gift to be delivered the day before the holiday. Yes, February 13, 2013 is the day Hell froze over.  But we are talking about my PilotHusband.... so you know that instead of finally getting it right, it all went horribly wrong.  Maybe some men just aren't cut out for Valentine's Day, no matter how well intentioned they may be.  I call it, Charlie Brown Syndrome.

Evidently, PilotHusband called ProFlowers and ordered 2 dozen roses to be delivered on Wednesday, as he was leaving on V Day to go to work.  This was going to be the year that he actually came through on Valentine's Day.  This was going to be the year that AngryPilotWife wouldn't be able to blog about what a tool he is.  But alas, here we are... again.

When PilotHusband checked his e-mail, late that morning, he had a notification from FedEx that his order had been delivered at 10:30.  He went to the front door to check..... no package.  He called FedEx tracking, and was told to check the garage, back door and "any bushes around the house".  This displeased PilotHusband.  However in an attempt to, finally, not be that guy, he did as he was told.  Still no flowers.

Meanwhile, AngryPilotWife called home from work and offered to leave early and take her PilotHusband to lunch.  He was in a pissy mood, and flatly refused.  This displeased APW.

I left work just in time to pick up our son from the bus stop and returned home to find PilotHusband on the phone screaming "DO YOU KNOW WHO I AM?".  (Unless you've been on Entertainment Tonight or the Sunday morning political talk shows, please don't ask that question.  It just makes you look pompous, delusional, and silly).

After 6 hours of distracted, bad-attitude, pissy behavior, having royally annoyed both his wife and child, PilotHusband explained that he had ordered flowers that were supposed to have been delivered, but were not here.  He had already been in contact with ProFlowers (who were kind, gracious, and helpful) and they would be re-sending the order on Friday.  I assured PilotHusband that all was good.  I was thrilled with his attempt, and understood this was not his fault.  That, however did not dissuade PilotHusband from calling FedEx back... again and again and again.  He called the tracking department, he called the distribution centers (in the surrounding 4 state area).  He yelled, screamed, and threatened every minimum wage cubical dweller with whom he spoke.  The last thing I overheard was "This is why I only drink with UPS Pilots!". 

Meanwhile, the flowers HAD been delivered.... to our next door neighbor's house.  Our neighbor's wife discovered them at her side door, and opened the box.  She was THRILLED that apparently her husband sent her 2 dozen multi-colored long stemmed roses... until she read the card and realized they were meant for APW.  At 6:30, her husband rang our doorbell, with the box of flowers in hand.  All was (finally) good in the Universe.

There's just a bit of fallout from this whole debacle.  Poor NextDoorNeighborHusband had to go out and spend a ridiculous amount of money for 2 dozen roses on Valentine's Day so that his wife wouldn't be disappointed.  Most of Wednesday was ruined by PilotHusband's drama and then he left the next morning.  And I'm pretty sure FedEx has taken out a restraining order again PilotHusband (I guess they shouldn't have rejected his application back in 1997).

Last time I checked, ProFlowers is still supposed to send out a duplicate order today because PilotHusband never let FedEx or ProFlowers know that we finally found the order.  You know how much Pilots love free shit!

(PS  ProFlowers is an AWESOME company.  The product that arrived was beautiful, and they were very tolerant and kind with PilotHusband during his multiple meltdowns.  APW highly recommends them!)

I hope everyone had a great Valentine's Day!  Just remember, its the other 364 days of the year that count much more.

Monday, February 11, 2013


(Thank you, Morgan V. for the inspiration.  You rock!)

When deciding what to get your PilotHusband for Valentine's Day, you have to take a moment to examine the unique characteristics of the Sky God.  What do they love?  What do they hate?  As a rule, Pilots love; (in no particular order) themselves, war movies, beer, sex, liquor, watches, boats, and anything that reminds them of when they were still young and cool.   Pilots hate; (in no particular order) dressing up in anything that isn't stained or torn on a day off, the theater, concerts, anything that costs them money, anything that requires getting off the sofa, any anything that fails to acknowledge their supremacy as a species.  Given all that, here are a few gift ideas.

Embroidered Towels  No, not the kind with his initials that color coordinate with your bathroom decor.  That would be emasculating... and gay.  I'm talking about big plush towels that match the accent color of the upholstery on his boat, stitched with the name of his boat and "Capt. (insert his name here)" on one towel, and the boat name and "First Mate" on the other towel.  While you may be tempted, do not put your name on the other towel.  First of all, if your PilotHusband is on the boat with another PilotBuddy, it would be embarrassing to make him dry off with "Shirley" emblazoned on his towel.  Secondly, if your PilotHusband is out on the boat with someone other than his wife, or a buddy, we don't want it to appear as if we are marking our territory.  We are not German Shepherds, ladies.

HBO's Band of Brothers DVD boxed set  The men of Easy Company were true American heroes.  There are planes, tanks, guns, explosions, and Nazis.  If he already has that one, create your own WWII movie collection for him.  Be sure to include all of the classics; A Bridge Too Far, Twelve O'Clock High, Battle of the Bulge (no ladies, that is not a workout video), The High and the Mighty, Where Eagles Dare, Kelly's Heroes, The Longest Day, and Patton. Your husband will spend hours on end, laying on the couch, in guy movie bliss (oh, wait!  He does that already.).

Beer  I'm not talking about the beer of the month club, or some silly home brewing kit.  This one requires some planning and effort on your part.  If your husband flies domestically, find a specialty shop like Total Wine, Wine Maestro, or the Pipe and Pint.  Select microbrew beer from each city that he travels to.  Tie a decorative tag to each bottle, naming its city of origin, and place the bottles in a large gift basket.  If your husband flies international routes, do the same thing with beer from the countries he flies to.  Just ignore the lecture about how he could have bought it cheaper from duty-free.

Liquor  Because they are cheap, pilots hold onto this belief of "quantity over quality".   They love the finer things in life, but have a hard time prying open their wallets to pay for it.  They would rather buy a half gallon of Johnnie Walker Red than a fifth of Johnnie Walker Blue Label.  So, this Valentine's Day, buy them the top shelf liquor.  Get them Remy Martin, JW Blue, and the most expensive bottle of anything.  Do not be disappointed when they don't drink it.  They are saving it for when a PilotBuddy shows up and they pull it out of the bar as if it is always there, as part of the bread, milk, and eggs, weekly grocery list.

Sex  This is a no-brainer.  Pilots like sex.  But give them what they really want-- not what you think they want.  Drop the kids off at Grandma's house and then forget the lacy, frilly, Victoria's Secret crap.  Go to Adam & Eve and buy the naughty catholic school girl outfit, the sexy french maid outfit, or the leather clad dominatrix attire.  Forget the champagne and chocolate covered strawberries.  Cook him a medium rare steak and get your freak on.  Men are pretty basic; pilots, even more so.  Remember, Harlequin Romance novels are written for women, by women.  Porn is made for men, by men.  Don't give him romance... give him porn.

Led Zeppelin / the boxed set  I don't care if your PilotHusband is 32 or 62.  Chances are, at some point in is life, he listened to alot of Led Zep, and he thought he was cool while he was doing it.  This is a male right of passage.  Give him his coolness and youth back.  Let him jam out to Traveling Riverside Blues, or Stairway to Heaven.  Just keep those Bose noise-cancellation headsets handy for your own sanity and let your man rock on!

As for me, after 22 years of Valentine's Day disappointments, I don't get PilotHusband a gift.  I consider resisting the urge to beat him with his own golf clubs while he sleeps, gift enough.

I've said it before... don't freak out over Valentine's Day.  The other 364 days of the year are much more important.  Of course if your PilotHusband pisses you off on those days too...... well, just keep his 9 iron handy.

Friday, February 8, 2013


Oh.  It must be about a week before Valentine's Day.  PilotHusband has already started his drama.  Every time we see a 1-800-FLOWERS commercial, my Uber-conservative husband bemoans the plight of Ecuadorian rose pickers and spouts on about how the US consumption of long-stemmed red roses fuels "the oppression of third world migrant farm workers".  The same man who makes Rush Limbaugh look liberal the other 51 weeks out of the year, spends this week criticizing US price point markets for floral products versus the average wage of floral, seasonal, migratory, farm workers.  Thanks for the input, Che Guevara.

Then we saw a commercial for Sherry's Berries... yummy chocolate-covered strawberries.  Pull up a chair, boys and girls, and enjoy the lecture about how industrial agribusiness is killing the family farmer.  PilotHusband actually pulled out our old VCR from a closet and hooked it up to the television so he could show me a tape of a FarmAid concert, circa 1985.  Wow.  John Mellencamp used to be pretty hot.

Oh, then we had to endure the Hallmark Greeting Card commercials.  My PilotHusband, who shops for vehicles based on the HIGHEST average highway mileage per gallon (just to piss off all the tree huggers out there), has begun complaining about the excessive use of paper in greeting cards, and the collateral death of the poor innocent tree. 

After 22 years, I know what comes next.  Not since McCarthy, has there been a bigger forum for accusing people of communism.  If you are a singer of love songs; BEWARE.  Michael Buble, Blake Shelton, Josh Groban, Barry White, and Lionel Ritchie.... you are formally put on notice!  Your insipid, sappy, seemingly heartfelt ditties will NOT be tolerated.  You create unreal expectations and should be summarily shot (while charging your family for the bullet).

Sooooo.... this year, for Valentine's Day, I think I'll ask for an NRA membership, a subscription to "Rush 24/7", and maybe that Ted Nugent Hunting Newsletter.  I an DEFINITELY not asking for flowers, or chocolate-covered strawberries, or a card!