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.

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