Wednesday, October 6, 2010

If the art school children are our future...we're fucked.

I have this ongoing problem at school…
Night classes are a mix of younger and older students. I am not OLD but to them I might as well be 79.
The intellectual difference between the two groups seems slightly disturbing to me. And honestly makes me fear the future of the United States.

1st day of English II:

Instructor: Let’s get to know who you are. Please introduce yourself & tell us what your background is? Hobbies/interests? Career goals? What is an interesting fact about you? Easy enough right?

So I jot down what I am gonna say…
Me: My name is Maria D’Angelo

Background: I have a degree in Production Art & Graphic design, almost 15 yrs experience in SAP Software in IT, Finance & Sales/Distribution.

Hobbies/interests: I have been creating & selling my artwork for about 7 yrs and am working on growing my business.

Career goals: I already work in a corporate environment and hope to use BA of Fine Arts Degree along with my business experience to switch careers from IT to a more art driven career.

Interesting fact: I just completed a huge art contest and I am double jointed as fuck.

The class starts their Intro’s…

Dude #1 (who kept his douche-nozzle sunglasses on all class): "my dad is black my mom is Mexican" umm? Not that kinda background dude...UGH

Dude #2 (in full Columbine trench coat & what seemed to be a washed wool sweater on his head or it was his hair I couldnt tell): "I collect & sell Pokémon cards and at one time owned 27 rabbits, I used to show em at the fair"
Me, in my head: *In my brain this equals "I collect little boys in the cellar on my farm and have their pinkies in my pocket right now" Your going to kill me, dont make eye contact, dont make eye contact, dont make eye contact...want a candy bar?Umm excuse me, Mr. Columbine; is that HAY in your hair? I have been staring at the back of your head for about 30 minutes and yup! I definitely think its HAY. And your face is making me ITCH.

Chick #1: in a straight valley girl voice “Umm, I like just opened a Wet Seal store at the mall, ya. And I wanna do fashion merchandising”
Instructor: What program are you in?
Chick #1: “like the fashion one, ya know”
Instructor: “The Fashion Design-Bachelor of Fine Arts Program or the Fashion Marketing & Management-Bachelor of Fine Arts Program?”
Chick #1: “Ya, that one”
Instructor: “ok…NEXT”
Me: ya teacher, you got it right. She wants to work at the slutty club clothing store and make stuff look prettttttty. Don't you understand?

Chick #2 (wearing a hoodie covered in DG logo's, skinny jeans, open toe stiletto boots covered in brass BALLS, a fake coach bag, leopard case on her blackberry and fake "Juicy" sunglasses on her head): "I aspire to work at DOTS, ya know the clothing store, cuz I really like fashion and trends ya know, like brands names"

It took everything I had not to stand up and say:

My Name is Maria, people call me Maria, but my family calls me Shinauvulva-qay but the F is silent.

Background: Moms Norwegian, like you know from the Nether-land, or is it the Nor-Way? Dads Sicilian, its little island by Mexico.

Hobbies/interests: I like to collect urinal cakes, then ya know like carve characters out of them, ya. Like Pooh, Mickey, Donald Duck…I make eco-friendly maxi-pads, in fun fabrics like puppies & ice cream cones, then selll them on etsy...Oh and I also have a special box that I keep all my toe nail clippings & dead skin in.

Career goals: I wanna work at the mall, like a Orange Julius or like Auntie Ann’s Pretzels. Not like Starbucks I think you gotta pass a test or something there. And I love brand names like COACH; those bags with the C’s all over them are so cool. I like to look like a Chinese market puked on me. I dont know why I am in college, LOLZ hmmm LATE!

Interesting fact: I’m a cutter, I slap my grand-ma, only shower on Thursdays, wipe back to front, I love Hello Kitty and I my favorite band is Gym Class Hero’s. I like loooove that song about my girlfriend. Wanna fuck? Like Umm, Ya.

WTF! I am in class with DEGENERATES, Probable serial killers & oh excuse me chick; I hate to tell you but YOU CAN WORK AT DOTS RIGHT NOW. They don't require a degree! I don't think you even need a social security number to work there! Leave class right now, run to Woodfield Mall across the street & live out your FUCKING DREAMS!

God help us.

Saturday, April 3, 2010

Timmy from the 3rd strikes again! “You got real purdy hair lady. Purdier than them rabbits who had to go away”

I  posted the “Please don’t pee in the hallway” note on my door. I did this to address the owner of the light bladder leakage DOG. Who knew it would spark TIMMY from the 3rd floor to pop up again? Even after I have made it clear DO NOT TALK TO ME, STAND ON MY PORCH OR TOUCH MY MAIL. Since my last run in with him, it appears he has taken it upon himself to become some sort of hall monitor! He lives on the 3rd floor as he mentions every fucking time he talks. I live on the 1st floor. He really has no reason to be on my end of the 1st floor hallway…which means he walks the halls…
He must have seen the note on my door, and I can only imagine how long he was standing outside my door reading all those W-O-R-D-S on my letter. I came home yesterday and in true Timmy from the 3rd floor fashion I found this taped to my door. Read it like 4 is completely insane...
"Hello my good friend from 303L" No TIMMY YOUUU live on 303 NOT ME!...
Click to enlarge...
"See the good I do"
I ripped it off and SUNK into my couch….WHYYYYYYYY? And WHAT THE FUCK DUDE! I have called the association on him, told him to stay off my porch, told him we will never be “friends” or “more” & please don’t touch my mail. What else do I do people?

ANNNNND yesterday I am sitting on my porch smoking a cigarette and dee da dee here comes TIMMY! He says out of nowhere totally unprovoked! “Ya the hallway smell bad, I spray” I just stare at him. He walks away and comes right back…”Are you going home for Easter? I am having brunch, ya there’s a lot of food, so much food…your hair looks pretty” I just stare.

All I could think of for the rest of the night was Lennie from Of Mice and Men….Here is my version of how it is gonna go down.
Since I was a child my luxurious hair has always been a source of admiration and envy.

One day I took a wrong turn and found myself on the 3rd floor. “Oh shit” I exclaimed as I spotted Lennie from Of Mice and Men walking towards me in his Jewel Osco hat and tube socks. “Hide, hide before Lenny sees your wondrous mane” my brain shouted at my body. But it was too late. Lenny immediately sensed the presence of me and my prized ringlets. His heavy, unwieldy legs bounded over to where I stood.

“Lady, I never seen anything like it” he said

“You got real purdy hair lady. Purdier than them rabbits who had to go away”

“Please, I must get going now” I said

“I gots to pet it” he said

“Nooooo” I shouted as Lenny’s hairy hydraulic paws grasped at my tragic bouffant. His petting was as thorough and invasive as Steinbeck had suggested. And yet, and yet… I was still alive. “I might make it” I thought.

This proved to be premature. As I wriggled uncomfortably and ruminated on the possibility of surviving the ordeal of becoming his human hug machine/pet.

I fell, as limp as a stringy puppet. Lenny scuttled away, to a whole new floor and a whole new petting-related nightmare. I lay lifelessly: a lonely corpse with exquisite hair.

Gruesome I know but…after my friend Greg told me how he used to work for the special Olympics and his job was to greet the special runners with a hug as the crossed the finish line, and one kid hugged him so hard he crack 3 ribs and broke 1…I now know they may mean well but sometimes they can squish you to death LOL. Greg hasn’t been right ever since!

Fuck this…I have to out smart Timmy from the 3rd floor, before Slingblade Lennie kills me like a mouse.

Monday, March 22, 2010

Did I just get dumped by a jewel bagger? OH HELL NO! (long story but TOTALLY worth it)

Anyone who has lived in a condo building or apartment building knows there is always “that weird guy” in the complex. His name usually ends in a “Y”, like my name is Bobby, Robby, Jimmy, Mikey, Ronny, Billy, or Kenny… Well I have my own weird guy. We’ll call him Timmy. I met him as soon as I moved in while I was packing my truck to go to Michigan,  he walked right up to me and introduced himself. HI I’m TIMMY; I live on the 3rd floor!

Me: Holy fuck where did he come from! Hello, I am Malina.
Timmy: I live on the 3rd floor! Where do you live?
Oh Jesus Christ…I look at him a bit closer and realize he may be “special”

 Safety orange Jewel-Osco trucker hat
 Backpack
 Tight t-shirt
 Too short running shorts
 White tube socks pulled up to his knee cap
 Velcro tennis shoes
 Talking WAY too loud
 Looks remarkably like the dude in Slingblade

Yup…he’s special. Since I used to work with mentally challenged people I was nice to him and didn’t treat him any different. He told me he works at Jewel across the street as a bagger, lives on the 3rd floor and is epileptic. He asked me where I was going and I explained to visit family. I smiled and say ok it was nice meeting you and go inside. Byeeeeeeeee!

I have 2 very dear friends who have epilepsy and it has never made them behave or dress that way!
Like my good friend "Kenny" here...see he is TOTALLY NORMAL. (love you, your hair looks pretty)

So a couple days later I am unpacking boxes in my first floor condo and OH HELLO there’s Timmmmy! Face plastered to my screen door.

Me: Umm Hello? Are you ok?
Timmy: Hi Malina! It’s me Timmy from the 3rd floor! What are you doing?
Me: yes I remember you. I am unpacking boxes. (Which he should have known because god knows how long he has been watching me)
Timmy: Oh do you need help I don’t work on Wednesdays I can come help you
Me: Oh thank you but I think I can handle it. (Why does he still have his face on my screen dooooor?)
Timmy: Ok, well if you need help I am just up on the 3rd floor, right above you. Byeeeeeeeeeeeee!
Me: ok byeeeeeeeee (I don’t ever want this dude above me)

So several of these screen door episodes go on….and now I am getting pissed. If he can hold a job and live alone he understands boundaries!
One day me and my friend Nicki are enjoying pizza on my couch and guess whoooo? Yep. Timmy pops up on my screen door.

Timmy: hey Malina! It’s me Timmy from the 3rd floor!
Me: Hi Timmy, how are you? This is my friend Nicki.
Timmy: Who’s your friend?
Me: this is my friend Nicki
Timmy: is she your sister?
Me: no this is my friend Nicki
Timmy: So she’s not your sister?
Me; no, first name “friend” last name “Nicki”
Timmy: oh ok (still standing there like I am going to ask him in)
Me: Ok Timmy we are gonna go out now.
Timmy: Ok byeeeeeeeeeeeee!

Nicki has now seen what I have been talking about and is tears, Fuck you Nicki. I will send Timmy from the 3rd floor to your house! LOL

One time I saw him coming to my screen and I hurled myself into the other room and hid for like 5 minutes and came out and he WAS STILL THERE!!!! Now he is officially a peeping tom and is freaking me the fuck out. So I act like its not beautiful summer weather out and close all blinds and turn my A/C on. Hoping this would deter him….

Then it happened…I came home one day and found this letter under my door.
(Click picture to see larger)
Awww come on man! Don’t be any weirder than you already are! WHAT THE FUUUUCK! Slingblade has a crush SWEEEET. Here is his hot picture....shirts? fuck shirts?
Its me TIMMY from the 3rd FLOOR!
 MMMM HMMMM its TIMMMY from the 3rd Floor! I like mustard and biscuits...MMMHHMMM
My response via email: “Timmy, I am flattered by your letter but I am not interested in you like that. Also I would appreciate it if you would respect my privacy and not come up to my screen door."

Timmy’s response:
Dear Malina,
OK I am terriblely sorry about that!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!I will promised to leave you alone for your privacy and not going to your screen door all the door ok.Is just that it surprised me that I found you on ok.I will leave you alone ok.If you feel comfortable to talk to me email me anytime ok.

Timmy your friend
Ok now I think we have this settled…Slingblade isnt gonna crush my head or use me as a doll WHEW! He will leave me alone and I don’t have to worry about him anymore right?
I got this email a few days later…
 Dear Malene,
Hello and Happy Fourth of July to you.I just wanted to let you know that.You have pick up delivery from UPS that I found out by mailbox today. They told me you are not listed?I do not know why?Please find out about it ok on your way out from work.

WTF! Leave my mail alone! And you forgot how to spell my name all of a sudden? eghhhh…I ignore this email and the fact that he is messing with my mail…giving “special dude” yet another break.

Then I get this email…
Dear Malina,
Hello and I am so terriblely sorry about the letter that I have given you last couple of weeks or month or so.Hey good news is that,I found someone from Yahoo messanger and her name is Suzie Holtz, she is hearing impaired and lives in Racine,Wis, she used to live in IL.She has two sisters, one in Palatine, one in Berwyn.I just wanted to let you know about it sinced I found someone I truely liked ok.You have great week ok.

Alright…that’s fuckin it! Did he just DUMP ME in some weird guy kind of way? Set me free to see if I return? I am happy deed da dee “A” found dee da dee “B”! good for you two! It’s bad enough I am single but this fucktard found someone, and is rubbing it in? That’s it. If you want to find me I will be the crazy lady with scruncie in my hair, standing in front of the pet store in my housecoat, with used Kleenex in my sleeve and an old TV guide in my pocket. FUCK THIS NOISE!

Ok, ok I got it together…and knowing I will get him back in a fabulously passive aggressive way someday. Wait for it……wait for it….

That day came yesterday when I saw this taped to the mailboxes in my building. (Click pic to see larger)
I’d recognize that CraYon SeriAl KilLeR handwriting anywhere! And who else would take the time to TRACE OUT THE LOST KEYS? TIMMMMY!

So here is what I taped to the mailboxes today.
Godspeed Timmy! I feel slightly better about dealing with his crazy ass.

Saturday, March 20, 2010

He likes seafood ok ok I GET IT!

This is an email I got from a guy on I have never spoke to him before and never once had mentioned SEAFOOD in my profile.
I am pretty sure he is a freak, socially inept, or seafood is code for some weird sex shit I am not aware of.
6 references to SEAFOOD is not the way to woooo a woman into dating you Jack...

Friday, March 19, 2010

Jes allo welcome to El Fuego McDonalds would jew like try balue meal tobay?

So one sunshiney day I am driving from Illinois to Michigan. I get hungry so I decide to stop at my favorite oasis (now that I am not scared of them anymore) I pull up to the drive thru and say:

Me: Hello
No answer
Me: Hello? Hola?
McDonalds Girl: Jes allo would jew like to try balue meal tobay?
Me: Ah no, just an ice mocha and a small fry please
McDonalds Girl: Jes ok would jew like to try a new wrap?
Me: Ah no, just a ice mocha and a small fry please
McDonalds Girl: Ok small fry ice mosha
Me: jes, Hello?
No response…..
At this point I am still sitting at the speaker and no one is answering me. I hear fire trucks but don’t think anything about it. So after a few minutes I pull up to the pick up window. No one is there.

Me: Hello? My fries? Hello? I smell smoke…they are burning my fries!
Me: Medium Ice Mocha please? Hello?

Now my inner fat kid is freaking out a bit. The fire trucks are AT the oasis.
A small Mexican girl comes to the window and literally throws fries at me. And runs away.

Me: Hello? Ice mocha please? Like Milton from Office Space
Me: Are you on FIRE? Hello? ¿Hola? está allí fuego?
Me: ¿HAY el FUEGO? is there El FUEGO in EL MCDONALDS?

10 minutes of this and it still hasn’t dawned on me that the MCDONALDS IS ON FIRE.
Soooo, no ice mosha then? I took my fries, didn’t pay and got back on the road. I look in the rear view mirror and see the smoke billowing out of McDonalds behind me. I GOT FREE FRIES WEEEEEEEE! LOL Adios Mikey D’s! and godspeed!

Wednesday, February 24, 2010

DUDE...yup, Its weird work guy, everybodies got one...

Ok, I used to work with this guy, everyone works with one of “these guys”. This one was EXTRA SPECIAL, VERY SPECIAL….and WEIRD.

Let me clarify some things for you before you read on…
Here are some of his special qualities -

• We don’t require a “Disclaimer” on the bottom of our emails. He did this ON HIS OWN.
• He wore only sweater vests.
• Him being Pakistani had NOTHING to do with his weirdness.So don’t send me hate mails! He was born here and I work with 6 other Paki’s and Indians in my department, and love them. It was just him, and the feeling was group wide.
• He was THAT GUY, he used a million words when he could have just used 2. Words like “absquatulation”, “anti-disestablishment” & “innuendo”…NONE of these words have anything to do the line of work we are in. They should not be applied in any situation! “innuendo” seriously? We work in IT Finance, at multi-billion dollar company! But he found a way…
• He was a suck up…bad. I assume to over compensate for lying on his resume and getting into a position he was not qualified for. (yes this is verified)
• He was very irate; he would yell and act crazy in the middle of office, then not hear a peep from him for days.
• We didn’t get along…yes I know how could someone not get along with me, right? but it wasnt just me. I ignored him and didn’t even make eye contact for over a year and when I did have contact with him it didn’t go well.
• He got fired. And now that I feel enough time has passed that I won’t get shot in the parking lot…I share this with you.

Because I am NOT TOTALLY retarded I have changed his name (although still similar) and all address and reference’s to my workplace.

So – this is the chunk that would be attached to EVERY single email he sent.

Naathim Shirshirchandra
Business Analyst II
1600 Amphitheatre Parkway
Mountain View, IL 60012 (ILLINOIS)
United States of America (e-mail address)

*If we don’t know what state that is or know that’s an email address we probably are not qualified to be operating a computer or work in the positions we are in.

And here is his personalized unnecessary disclaimer:

“IMPORTANT: This e-mail and/or any attached document(s) contain information that may be confidential, legally privileged and/or otherwise protected from disclosure to anyone other than its intended recipient(s). In the event that you are not the intended recipient, you may not read, copy, distribute and/or use this information. If this message is received in error, then immediately notify the sender via reply e-mail and delete the message without disclosure. Electronic-based communications cannot be guaranteed to be timely, secure, error or virus-free. Nothing authored in this e-mail from
Mr. Naathim Shirshirchandra shall constitute an Electronic Signature or give legal effect under 44 U.S.C 3504 § 1707.”

Mr.? Really? And where the F did you find this nonsense? You stole it from someone else’s email that doesn’t work here didn’t you! DIDN’T YOU!

Here is the email I sent to my co-worker notifying him of myyyy new disclaimer for emails.

Hello Coworker,
I, BigButter Heysus (no middle name it’s a family thing, just ask me and I can send you another email where I referenced myself priory to not having a middle name on November 11 of the prior year to this year (2009) on the 2008) *Please reference here for an explanation of calendars.
Nevertheless, I have instituted a new disclaimer for my email. When I speak of email let me clarify my clarification, I mean correspondence between myself and other co-workers here at WORKPLACE INC. located at 1600 Amphitheatre Parkway, Mountain View, IL 60012 U.S.A (the UNITED STATES OF AMERICA)

IMPORTANT DISCLAIMER: This email is intended for the use of the individual addressee(s) named above and may contain information that is confidential, privileged or unsuitable for overly sensitive persons with low self-esteem, no sense of humor or irrational religious beliefs. If you are not the intended recipient, any dissemination, distribution or copying of this email is not authorized (either explicitly or implicitly) and constitutes as an irritating social faux pas. Unless the word “absquatulation” has been used in its correct context somewhere other than in this warning, it does not have any legal or grammatical use and may be ignored. No animals were harmed in the transmission of this email, although the Yorkshire terrier next door is living on borrowed time, let me tell you. Those of you with an overwhelming fear of the unknown will be gratified to learn that there is no hidden message revealed by reading this warning backwards, so just ignore that Alert Notice from Microsoft: However, by pouring a complete circle of salt around yourself and your computer you can ensure that no harm befalls you and your pets. If you have received this email in error, please add some nutmeg and egg whites and place it in a warm oven for 40 minutes. Whisk briefly and let it stand for 2 hours before icing. Nothing authored in this e-mail, on this day in history from Ms. BigButter Heysus (yes you must preface my name with Ms.) shall constitute an Electronic Signature or give legal effect under 44 U.S.C. 3504 §1707 sucka face. *Repeatedly using the word “innuendo” instead of “suggested” or “implied” may result in a beating to the face and neck area & being sent back to the 8th grade to re-take Grammar in the English language. *Yelling at Ms. BigButter will only result in you looking like a complete psycho, and will cement the fact that no one will befriend you. EVEN if you run up to the new girl and say “Hi I am Naathim, you should be friends with me, not them, do you know where the vending machines are? No, ok it’s ok you don’t have to find them, I have snacks in my drawer”. This is not only NEEDY, INSANE and UNSTABLE behavior but a bit scarey to small Indian women.

Thank you,
BigButter "No Middle Name" Heysus
1600 Amphitheatre Parkway, Mountain View, IL 60012 (ILLINOIS, it’s the state below Wisconsin)
U.S.A (UNITED STATES OF AMERICA, it’s the country below Canada)
619-555-0000 (phone number) (email address)
Mother maiden name “Ain’t Proper”

Tuesday, February 23, 2010

So ya say your a germaphobe.....I see your germiness and raise you 1

Cohabitating with family is always a treat. My cousin Ekim is one of my very best friends and has always amused me. Our moms, Aunts & Grandma are always nervous when we are together…WHAT WILL THEY GET INTO NOW.

So I have complied a series of Ekim & Err (that’s what he calls me) short stories…

The “Dead Foot Skin Towel” incident triggered a slew of pranks within our apartment.

Here is one of many…We always had this battle with the laundry. Ya see, Ekim is a bit of a germaphobe. This is where the problem started. He didn’t mind taking the clothes from the washer and putting them in the dryer BUT would leave all my freshly washed and CLEAN underwear and bras in the washer to rot. Because he didn’t want to touch them! We have gone around and around about this.

Me: Ekim! Don’t leave my shit in the washer to rot! I have to wash it all over again!

Ekim: I can’t touch it.

Me: They are CLEAN! They are in THE WASHER!

Ekim: I can’t.

Me: Put a sock on your damn hand and put them in the dryer.

Ekim: I can’t.

Me: They were in the washer WITH YOUR STUFF mingling around!
Ekim: NOPE, I can’t.


I work a 7am – 4pm shift. Ekim is working from about 3pm – 7am LONG HOURS. At this freight place.

So one day I get home from work, go to the washer and find a picked through pile of soaking wet underwear and bras sittin in the washer….I’ve HAD IT.
Knowing he is a germaphobe and won’t touch my girly garments, I decide I will MAKE HIM.
I take every bra & underwear I own, and stuff them in his bed, deep in the sheets, in his pillow cases…EVERYWHERE. Giggling and feeling satisfied that I have created a fabulous prank, I go to bed. Dreaming of how funny it will be when he gets home tomorrow morning and he will HAVE to touch my undies to get in his precious bed after his long shift.

I go to work the next day, didn’t hear from him…weird….I come home…his room is clean…no undies…no bras…what the BEANS & FRANKS IS GOING ON!?

I go in to my bedroom…and realize I have lost my battle. This germaphobe freak has put on rubber gloves; pick up every garment, and TAPED THEM TO MY CEILING! Along with TP’ing my room in 4 rolls of paper.
The mirror has “GERMS” written on it in blue tape and he has left the rubber gloves on my bed.
Ok ya haa haa, he got me. So I try to pull a pair of undies down from the ceiling…I can’t! They are not dangling so I could REACH them OH NOOOOO. He thought this out! He knew my short ass would try to stand on my bed and get them down so he didn’t put any in a radius around my bed.
He won’t be home until tomorrow morning…so I have to go across the hall and ask my lovely neighbors to “help me”….they laughed so freaking hard and we have been great friends ever since.
Repercussion to this coming soon…..

Sunday, February 21, 2010

I only hook up at 1ft - 4ft in the air, I get more points that way...

I don’t make a habit of talking to people much on flights after my experience on a 6am New Year’s Day flight several years ago. I was sitting with an older couple from Green Bay, WI. They were covered head to toe in Green Bay Packer paraphernalia; they shared their excitement with me about this being their first time on a plane…EVER. I was hung-over, BAD. I could smell the vodka seeping out of my pours but they didn’t seem to mind that I had not slept all night and just partied until I got on the plane at 6am. Still drunk, Guido hair still done up and a layer of makeup that did not seem to make sense with the sweat pants and hoodie I was now wearing. I was still covered in glitter and a nights worth of bad decisions but, I stayed awake while they showed me pictures of their 4 kids, grand kids and pets.
While sharing a pb & j sandwich she had packed from home in wax paper, I learned they are retired, she likes to knit, collects dolls, she loves her new lawn ornament that her husband made in his workshop, bakes treats, still enjoys the lost art of letter writing, he like likes sports, Letterman, recently got a John Deere….all on a 2 hour plane trip. They were a super sweet Midwest couple and I hope I will be that happy when I am old. Lesson learned – You can get drunk and do stupid shit but god and the airlines know each other and will make YOU PAY one jelly sammich at a time..
So when I was about 26 yrs old I was on a red-eye, Southwest flight from Las Vegas to Nashville. The flight was less than half full and this super dorky guy kept trying to talk to me. He looked like every other middle-aged guy traveling for business. He had what I call the “IT Guy Body” (orby middle section, slumped down shoulders and skinnnny arms because they just look at porn and play games never getting movement beyond their wrists) the work logo windbreaker jacket, polo shirt, khakis, appropriate shoes and an overall look of “I hate my life”…

We were flying over an unbelievable thunderstorm and I just wanted to look out the window and watch the storm from above the clouds, but he kept bugging me and moved into the seat next to me. He was asking me stupid questions and I was trying to be polite but was just answering yes, no or oh. Hoping he would go away. So I am half ass listening to him, then, not caring that he was talking to a woman who wasn’t really paying attention…He leans over all pervy like, put his hand on my arm and whispers to me:

“Soooo…are you a member of the mile high club?”

To which my response was “No, I normally fly Northwest” dead serious.
He giggled like I was kidding…I wasn’t. I had no idea what he was talking about. Why does this dude care if I collect frequent flyer miles? Idiot. Thennnn it hit me…wait! What the hell did he just ask me!?

Me: Are you married? (Looking at the ring on his left hand)

Him: well ya

Me: Is your wife picking you up from the airport?

Him: Umm, why?

Me: What the fuck are you doing talking to me? Seriously? Get back in your seat over there or I will make this the worst flight of your life, and will be sure to introduce myself to her at baggage claim.

It’s amazing…A) how completely oblivious and ditzy I can be sometimes and B) how fast a dude can get back in his seat when he realizes I am not as cool as I look.

We give him 1.5 Truck Nutz...for the effort.