On a plane to Houston. It is difficult to type as I am very crowded. I *DID* have a free seat next to me,
but this french dude decided he was going to move and sit there. He claims he was trapped between two
fat guys. He was. So what? I’ve been trapped before and had no escape. Everyone needs to experience
the fear and anguish of being trapped in a coach class seat like that. It toughens ya up. You could probably
sail through basic training in the military if you’re able to survive being squeezed between two big dudes
on a plane for three hours.


Speaking of… the big dude in front of me reclined his chair not 15 seconds after the plane had left the ground.
We were still ascending, dammit. Isn’t there a rule? Only minutes earlier the french dude next to me took a phone
call while we were sitting on the taxi way. Last time I ever did that (1998) the back of the plane threatened to
call security and have me escorted out. I claimed that I was a spy and that my phone was really a private line
to the pilot… and that everyone should sit down and shut up. I almost had them convinced until they wrestled me to the ground and
tied me up.


The dinner cart came by and one of the two big dudes in front of me said, “You got a special meal for me?”
The male stuardess replied, “Not for you!” Ha. Good one. I think I even echoed ”Not for you!” several
times out loud because I thought it sounded so funny. I got The Evil Eye from the special meal guy.
The Recliner Guy had no comment.


There is a totally gorgeous brunette with a fantastic tan not three feet to my right. I had some updates to
do for MarkWahlberg.com and thought I’d catch her eye with my expertise in Flash — plus riding the coattails
of superstar Mark Wahlberg to impress women can’t hurt. She spoke to me a little while but she seems busy
talking to the redneck seated next to her. He has the We Share An Armrest Advantage that I lack. I share the
armrest with a wussy french dude who can’t say Canada Dry to where anyone can understand him. The
“Not For You” male stewardess asked this guy what he wanted to drink and he kept replying, “Cahn Nah Dah Rye.”
I eventually translated for him and he got his drink. I can’t stand seeing french dudes suffer.


When I checked out of my hotel this morning, I noticed the three or four meals I’d ordered via room service
did not show up. I wonder what happened to them. Perhaps room service is free at the Best Western. I was
also informed that I was to receive a free night discount and 20% discounts for my lengthy stay. After all the
discounts, it is very cheap to stay at the Best Western. I’d been considering moving into a furnished apartment
but the price, $1999/month, seemed steep. I’d only get maid service every two weeks. What is up with that?
I am a neat person, but two weeks is long enough to start your own bacteria species. Whatever that means.
My coworker Will had offered his spare room when he moves in September, and the idea sounds good…
although I think my ability to bring home crazy women would be seriously hindered if I did that. Not that
I am bringing home anyone now, but you never know.


I think I have lost access to Girl On My Right to the We Share An Armrest guy. Bastard. There is a girl in the
row with me across from the french dude, but I think she hasn’t started 7th grade yet. I’m not in the mood
to discuss boy bands and how cool Carson Daly is right now.


I am peeking a look at the book the french dude is reading. It says something about Building a Domain of Love.
Must be about creating pr0n sites, right?