Tuesday, August 30, 2011

TBTL with Luke Burbank, addressing the recent podcast interview.

Hi all. So my little blog seems to be getting a lot more hits than usual thanks in large part to being interviewed on the podcast 'TBTL with Luke Burbank' on August 8th. (http://www.mynorthwest.com/?nid=577&a=32163)

If you've heard it (and the following two follow-up podcasts to the feature) you'll see that for various reasons, it stirred up some mutha fuckin' emotions ya'll, and some bi-polar ones at that. I was widely hated and told to go fuck myself (they didn't get it), but then also loved and thanked by a second wave of peeps who are clearly fabulous (they got it). Basically, what I think is that a lot of stupid people whom are most likely the very passengers that inspire many of my rants drank the haterade instead of the coffee, tea, or me. This is probably because they are severely unhappy with their lives and need to get laid or take a laxative.  I'm fully aware now that in taking such an extreme stance, I gotta be ready to take on even more bullshit than I already do on the plane.

So bring it on general public. You inspire me with your stupidity and senseless humor. Without you, I'd have no material. Kisses!

Tuesday, August 9, 2011

We Do Not Have Pillows & Blankets...And For Good Reason.

Have I ever told you about the time I found jizz on an airplane blanket?

I have found jizz on an airplane blanket.

So the next time you didn't come prepared and ask your flight attendant for a jizz blanket that we no longer supply, don't huff through your shivers looking annoyed. You should be thanking us for this particular budget cut.

Tuesday, August 2, 2011

I'm not a GPS.

Surprise, surprise. I have another inflight pet peeve.

Please, do not ask a flight attendant WHERE we are at 35,000 ft in the air. It doesn't matter and you know it. Look out your window. You're lucky if you see a few cloud bunnies on a nice day, maybe a pretty mountain range, a body of water quite possibly, a crop circle even, but most of the time, it's just vast boring, brown, sprawling expanse. You don't care. You're bored and didn't bring enough to do.

I'm not a GPS fools.
If you ask me this, I pull crap out of my b-hole (as I look intently out your window peep hole) confidently spouting stuff like, "I believe we're about to cross the Bible Belt, That's gotta be uh...the Snake River...The Bermuda Triangle...Mount Midwest"... Sometimes I've been known to say (with a smile of course), "I don't know where you are, but I'm in hell" as I trot away. It doesn't matter what I tell you guys, you buy it because I'm in a hot official uniform (ok, this is debatable). It's like because I wear wings on my lapel, I'm omniscient or something. I'm a flight attendant Yo!, not a Jesus GPS or a Ride the Ducks tour guide. I'm not flying the plane guys. I drive a trolley cart in only one of two directions. I don't mind if you ask me how much longer we have left in our flight because trust me, I've been counting down the seconds until I can blow this pop stand, but the 'where?' makes we want to "accidentally" spill tomato juice on your crotch.

And no, I will not call up the pilots to verify our coordinates in flight either, they are very busy button pushing, dad joking, and looking up where the nearest golf course is to the hotel.