The "Ick"-th Sense

I am a closeted People magazine subscriber. It's not something I'm proud of. But when you're a frequent traveler like me trying to figure out how to kill the time between the nonsensical command to discontinue use of all portable electronic devices and that sweet, sweet tone notification that you've hit your cruising altitude and can whip out the Kindle, an issue of People magazine is the perfect solution. It's light-weight, full of pictures, and requires the attention-span of a squirmy four-year-old to finish. Granted it did spoil all of Downton Abbey endings for me, but the issues keep a'comin' and I keep a'readin'.

Since I'm taking a much-needed breather from work travel this month, I decided to take along the latest issue with me on my morning walk with Lucy. Imagine my horror when I stumbled upon this disaster.

This, my friends, is a scratch 'n' sniff card to accompany the premiere of the next season of what must be the biggest tragedy of television history, Here Comes Honey Boo Boo. Seriously, a Watch 'N' Sniff? Admittedly I do watch the occasional* TLC show, but this one is too gross for me to watch, even without breathing in various forms of stench as I do.

I cannot imagine anything more ridiculously disgusting than smelling a show like this. Can you even begin to guess how much money was spent on creating the scents to accompany these stupid scratch 'n' sniff cards that smell like bodily functions?

America, we are a disgusting bunch. That being said, if anyone would like one of these cards, let me know and I'll mail it to you. As a connoisseur of pretty awful reality TV shows myself, I have no place to judge.

*Ahem, frequent. Sister Wives! Breaking Amish! Four Weddings!

Why I Suck at Being Surprised

I'm probably the last person on earth to have a surprise party. Why? Because I suck at being surprised. I'm suspicious and snoopy, qualities I inherited from my mother. As a kid, I took my annual sneak peek tour of  my Christmas gifts in my mom's messy closet, and of course denied it every single time. I perfected my  pretend look of surprise when I'd open a gift that I knew I was getting.

As much as I think surprises in the abstract are fun, I really don't like them all that much when I know one is coming.  It's impossible for me to say, "Oh, a surprise! How fun. I guess I'll wait around and see what it is." My desire to figure it out ahead of time turns into a psychosis.

One Christmas I suspected my mom had gotten me a puppy (she had), and everyone in my family was in on it, except for me. I hated that feeling of being left out, even though a totally awesome thing was waiting on the other side. It's probably in part a function of being the youngest and only girl, but I hate feeling left out of whatever is going on, even if it's for me.

Weird, huh? I can manage to complain about having someone plan me something awesome. I'm such a jerk sometimes.

Needless to say, this time of the year is the WORST for someone with my snooping tendencies because now that I'm no longer five-years-old, it seems completely unacceptable to snoop around the house, looking for gifts. It doesn't mean I don't want to; it's just that now I feel totally ashamed of myself and the guilt keeps me from doing so...most of the time.

Not only do I have Christmas gifts just sitting there under the tree, taunting me, but I also have a late January surprise weekend that Carolina Man is planning. He told me about it at the end of November, and now I'm driving both him and me batty with questions about it. Sometimes he just says, "If you really want to know, I'll tell you," to which I respond with a whiny, "Noooooo! I want it to be a surprise."

Seriously, you can't please this girl.

I'll just have to suck it up, wait a few more days (or weeks), and realize that the wait will be worth it.

Scared of Flights

Are you scared of flying? If not, you should be.

You all know how I feel about leaving Georgia to come back to DC. Nothing new about that. Even though I knew I'd be coming again in just a few short weeks, I cried per usual when my mom dropped me off at the airport. If the tears weren't torture enough, I had to go through the humiliation of the full-body scan (you know some guy is totally getting off on that shit) and a subsequent left thigh groping. There was no "patting down" going on. It was full-on leg assault. I thought the whole point of going through the body scanner was avoiding the groping? Apparently it was a double deal that day. Couple that with a two-hour delay due to "mechanical problems" and an assigned seat in the very last row and having water spilled all over me...well, I was a total peach, as I'm sure you can imagine.

But see, all of this is to be expected. Flying is a miserable thing we put ourselves through to see our loved ones. If I didn't get paid to do it most of the time, I would avoid flying at all costs. I do it enough to know that these annoyances are to be expected, and when you manage to avoid them, it's nothing short of miraculous.

What I wasn't prepared for was what when I landed. I was waiting to be picked up, so I picked a quiet spot to camp out in. I was busying myself with important tasks like Gchat when an airport employee walked up to me. The guy was probably in his 60s. Nice grandfather type, or so I thought.

"Are you waiting to be picked up?" he asked.

"Yes, just coming back from being home with my family," I answered, thinking he was just being friendly.

"Well, I figured it was that or you were sitting in the time out chair."

Hmm, ok. Kind of weird, but I get it--I'm sitting alone. Old men like to relate to young women as if they're children. Infuriating, but true. I sort of laughed it off, hoping he'd go away but he continued

"People my age don't know what you're talking about when you say 'time out chair.' In my day, we just got spanked," he said.

Hmm, this is taking a weird turn. I laughed it off, this time a bit more uncomfortably, "Yeah, it's a new way of parenting for sure. Self-esteem and all that."

I really, really wanted him to fuck off. I wasn't even making eye contact at that point, trying to say, "Hey, get the hell away from me." But no, he continued. With more spanking talk. Like when he'd been spanked as a child--what the offenses were, etc. And then how he'd spanked his own children, like when his daughter had told her mother to shut up. This was an EXTENDED conversation--or, monologue I should say--and then it got even worse.

"If you'd done something like that, would you have been spanked?" he asked.

WHAT. THE. FUCK.

"I was the sort of kid that hated getting in trouble. I never would have said that to my mom," I said. All true.

But he kept pushing the whole spanking thing. He found at least three ways to ask me about being spanked, each time I avoided the question. And in the end, I suppose frustrated with my evasion of the spanking talk, he just outright asked, "Were you spanked as a child?"

"Not really," I said, completely horrified and just wanting him to leave me alone. What I should have said was, "Look, you fucking sicko, this is NOT a normal conversation you have with a stranger. I'm sure you get off on this shit, so go post a craigslist ad or something, but leave me the fuck alone!" 

Has the whole flying industry become sexualized? Anti-terrorism, my ass! That whole experience was completely terrorizing. Put this experience on the list of "why I want to live close to my family."