There were a couple of things I meant to mention but forgot in my lengthy post about my trip home, so, lacking anything more interesting to write about, I’m mentioning them now.
I was flying into Chicago at night when my iPod shuffled to the Liz Phair song Stratford-On-Guy, which starts out with the line “I was flying into Chicago at night.”
The coincidence amused me much more than it probably should have.
Male flight attendants, I learned, appear to be frustrated stand up comics who like to take advantage of the fact that they have captive audiences when making in-flight announcements. The problem is that they’re not funny. I understand that it must be monotonous to have to say the same things over and over again, but that’s no reason to take it out on us. We’re already suffering, and don’t need to have your “funny” voices or endless bread-related puns added to our misery.
In Indianapolis, on my way to Michigan, I saw a woman in a skintight black dress, a white jacket, and sexy black and white patent leather pumps that gave off the impression of some kind of retro 1950s pin-up. It was a really good look on her…twenty years and forty pounds ago.
The sight of it inspired me to create this cruel and probably misogynistic image:
Yes, yes, I know; I’m no prize pig myself, but on the other hand I don’t go around dressing as though I think I am, do I? In fact, if anything I dress to accentuate the fact that I know that I’m not.
I was going to just use an image of some random MILF-wannabe, but with Sex & The City being the number one movie in the country, this seemed more appropriate.
(And for the record, Kristin Davis? Still smoking hot, and way hotter than any of the others were even in their prime.)
After I bought a sandwich from Subway, the only source of food in the concourse I was on, I was looking for a place to sit and eat in the overcrowded seating area and noted that the woman in the tight black dress – who, unlike the ladies of S&TC, did not have the benefit of make-up artists and soft focus – was looking up at me rather expectantly from her table. I said, “Do you mind if I sit here?”
To some guy sitting at a different table.