Thursday, January 31, 2013


We have a six year old boy.  Hence, we watch alot of Phineas and Pherb cartoons.  In case you are not in the loop on this one, their pet platypus, Perry, is actually Secret Agent P with O.W.A.C.A. (the Organization Without A Cool Acronym).  How sad for Perry the Platypus.  However Pilots have plenty of cool acronyms to fall back on. 

I have spend almost two decades listening to PilotHusband spout off acronyms.  It started with how its VFR or IFR, then it progressed to talking to ATC.   Now we discuss DMEs, PIREPs, MDAs, CPDLCs, and SATCOMs.

I have news for you, Boys.  AngryPilotWives have their own acronyms!  Here's a brief list of acronyms to look out for.

FOA: First Officer Asshole (a pet name for my PilotHusband).
DGAS:  Don't Give A Shit; as in our child has the Chicken Pox, so I don't give a shit about your last overnight.
CA:  Captain Asshole (a pet name for senior PilotWives).
GOMC:  Get Off My Couch.  As in, you've been home for three days, so get ff my couch and do something!
FUPH:  (pronounced "fuff")  Eff you, PilotHusband.  Do you really need further explanation?
UTMeTSA:  You Told Me That Story Already.
SDUJuST:  Seriously, Did You Just Say That?
W, URAJ:  Wow, You Are A Jackass.

Now that we all speak the same language of acronyms, maybe we can communicate more effectively.  But I doubt it.


Thursday, January 17, 2013


We live in the Piedmont region of North Carolina, USA.  As such, we rarely get snow... and when we do; you'd think the Zombie Apocalypse was upon us.  We are just not equipped to deal with it.  If the local news reports, even a slight chance of snow flurries, the local residents storm the grocery stores, stripping them of milk, peanut butter, jelly, sliced bread, and beer.  We don't have snow plows, salt trucks, snow tires or chains.  Hell, I don't even own a snow shovel.  If it snows, we resign ourselves to being stuck at home until it melts.

Given that we are currently under a "Winter Storm Advisory", I thought I should review how to prepare for a snow storm like a real pilot.

STEP ONE:  Leave town. 

STEP TWO:  Just kidding!  There is no step two!

At the first suggestion of snow, PilotHusband jumps on a plane to his base to "get into position".  That leaves AngryPilotWife to prepare for Snowmageddon on her on.  So... here's how to prepare for a snow storm, like an AngryPilotWife.

STEP ONE:  Empty no less than three closets, looking for your child's winter weather gear.  After an exhaustive search, yielding only one mitten and one glove (both for the left hand), resign yourself to going to Walmart and buying new mittens, boots, a hat... and a new sled.

STEP TWO:  Steel yourself for combat, and hit the grocery store.  Be sure to get the essentials... a case of wine, a 12 pack of Red Bull, toilet paper, dog food, cat food, chocolate, and snacks.  Forget the beer; PilotHusband has left the building.

STEP THREE:  Even though ice pellets are now falling from the sky, and the winds have exceeded 35 miles per hour, go to the pet store to buy crickets to feed the... (flock? troop? herd? gaggle?) of fire bellied toads that live in a tank in your living room.

STEP FOUR:  Finally come home, only to realize that PilotHusband used every last piece of firewood last week when it was 70 degrees out, and now you have no means of keeping your family warm if the power goes out.  Go back out in the storm, load your truck full of wood, drive it home, and unload it all by yourself.

STEP FIVE:  Listen to PilotHusband bitch, whine, and moan, when he calls home from his hotel room, as he eats room service in his underwear.

As for us, we're going sledding tomorrow!  And perhaps a little snowman building.  Keep warm, stay safe, and "let it snow, let it snow, let it snow". 

Wednesday, January 16, 2013


Are you a pilot?  Are you thinking about settling down, getting married, and starting a family?  Well just like the Pilot Operations Handbook or an ALPA contract, there are rules people!  Here's how to be the ultimate PilotDad....

1.  Pregnant chick stuff is icky.  Yes, you need to accompany your pregnant, hormonal, emotional wife to the OB/GYN office at first.... or she will bludgeon you with a blunt object while you sleep.  But pretty much, once you see the ultrasound picture of your baby... you're done.  Especially if the sonogram shows a weenie.  Oh yeah!  You not only planted your "seed", but you created yet another "penis person".  Hooray, you.

2.  You will, inevitably, piss off your pregnant wife.  You can't help it; you are a Pilot.  The self-confidence, brashness, and ego-mania that she used to find so attractive, will make her want to scratch your eyes out.  When this happens (and it will), simply throw a chocolate bar in one direction, while you run in the opposite direction. Go to Costco and buy Hershey Bars by the case.  Do not ever run out of them.  Your life depends on it.

3.  Having done your part, you really don't need to show up until about month 9 or 10.  But do NOT drink the Kool Aid.  You are a Pilot!  You are not going to sit in a kiddie pool, massaging your wife's back for a water birth.  Hell!  You ain't gonna' be in the room at all!  No my friends, you will be pacing in the waiting room with a box of cigars like its 1955.  Real Pilots don't want to see all that.  They just want to know when its over.

4.  While your wife is breast feeding, continue to drink beer for breakfast, and Makers Mark for lunch... and dinner... while smoking Marlboro Reds.  This is critical.  You need to clearly define parenting roles now or you'll be that guy wearing Birkenstock sandals and a baby Bjorn at the check out line at Whole Foods.  Don't be that guy.

5.  When it comes to changing diapers, f%#$ it up royally from the start.  If you have a little girl, don't wipe front to back.  If you have a baby boy, don't put a washcloth over his weenie and let him spray the room just once.  You will never have to change another diaper again.

6.  After distancing yourself from the day to day, hour to hour, minute to minute, drudgery of child care, sit back and micromanage what your wife is doing.  Be sure to question her every move and decision.  You are simply helping her to be a better Mom.  You are just utilizing Crew Resource Management.  After all, you are a Pilot.

Children are a blessing.  PilotHusbands?  Eh.  God bless them; they try.

Friday, January 4, 2013


Have you seen all those wise-ass Birthday cards that mention setting off the smoke detectors with all the smoke from the multitude of candles on the birthday cake?  THAT ACTUALLY HAPPENED TO ME.  Sad, but true.  I have become a joke in the Birthday section of the Hallmark Card Store.  No, really!  We were seconds away from PilotHusband putting out my cake with the fire extinguisher.

My wonderful 6 year old son was so excited about Mom's Birthday!  He begged to be allowed to put the candles on my cake all by himself.  Of course I said "yes".  Then he asked me how old I was, so he could be certain to certain to have the right number of candles on the cake.  Yeah, about that...

I am a woman of a certain age.  How old I am, does not come up in polite conversation.  In truth, there are CIA operatives who don't have the top secret clearance to know AngryPilotWife's age.  Oh sure, some people have their theories.... but just like the existence of Extraterrestrials or the Yeti; they can't prove it.  I explained to my son that since we had a very small cake, it may not have room for a lot of candles.  I told him to just put enough in so that it looks pretty.

When I returned to the kitchen, my cake looked like a porcupine.  There were candles all over the top and protruding (cruelly) from the sides.  When it came time to light them, they combined into a large fireball.  As we blew out the candles together, I realized that he had used sparkler candles as well as the kind that relight on their own.  After 5 minutes, those suckers were still burning.  Then it happened.  The unmistakable piercing shriek of the smoke detectors.  Worse yet was having to explain what happened to our Alarm Company when they called.  Even worse than that was the uncontrollable laughter from PilotHusband as I explained to the Alarm Company Operator that there was no fire, rather the smoke from blowing out all the candles on my birthday cake triggered the alarm.  Middle age is not for the faint of heart.


Tuesday, January 1, 2013


(The following rant does NOT apply to my dear friends and neighbors, Jill and Melissa.  I love you gals and I think your Christmas letters are very sweet!)  It DOES apply to the 16 other Christmas Family Newsletters we received.

PilotHusband and I have one strong holiday tradition.  We do not open any of the Christmas cards we received until PilotHusband has finished his Christmas flying and we can go through them together.  We pour ourselves a few cocktails/glasses of wine, and tear into them.  We especially enjoy the ones that contain an Annual Family Newsletter.  Oh how we enjoy them!

Here are a few observations about the Annual Family Newsletter....

1.  Hello?  We've actually met.  I know you people, AND YOU ARE NOT THAT INTERESTING!  No one, and I mean NO ONE should send 6 pages of single-spaced text about your family adventures/achievements over the past year.  Christiane Amanpour, George Clooney, and Anderson Cooper are WAAAAY more interesting, and they manage to keep it to 2 pages, max.  I'm just sayin'.

2.  You people are capable of more propagandist spin than Josef Geobbles.  Seriously?  I've babysat for your children.... when you describe them as "bright and active" what you really mean is lagging behind grade level and Attention Deficit Disordered.  You've got more spin than the final cycle of my washing machine.  (yes, FrontierPilotWifeFriend, I mean you!)

3.  Please don't tell me about the wonderful second honeymoon trip you and your spouse took to Nice.  In 2012, each of you felt the need to run away from home and crash in my spare bedroom for a few days until the dust settled (yes, I am talking about you, FedExPilotBuddy and ReallyPissedOffFedExPilotWife).  And, AND, AND you confided in me about the affairs that BOTH of you are having!

4.  Let's be honest.  If we are good friends, then we have spoken over the past year, and I know what you and your family have been up to.  If we only communicate through Christmas Family Newsletters, then we are not that tight AND I DON'T GIVE A SHIT ABOUT WHERE YOU VACATIONED LAST SUMMER!

5.  Your child is eight years old (Oh yeah, I'm talking to you, AlaskanPilotBuddy).  Do not include a resume for him as if he is seeking Nobel Laureate status or he is applying to the US Naval Academy.  HE'S EIGHT FRIGGING YEARS OLD!    I'm not that impressed.  "...Johnny continues to excel at building things with Legos".  Really? 

AngryPilotWife does not do a Christmas Family Newsletter because APW has no filter and always tells the truth.