I was on a plane this past Sunday. I always think this may be my last time on earth if we crash. Who would I mate with if we ended up on Gilligan’s Island? (Of course, nevermind the fact, I have never flown over the ocean or any where near a tropical island.) Hmm, that one guy with the spiky blond hair is kinda cute. Looks young and nubile like the guy from Blue Lagoon. Or, maybe that big strong almost biker type. He could definitely fight off some scary animals or build shelter. That old guy with the male-pattern baldness. Well, if he’s the only one left. Did I mention I’m very rude and snobby. I was in the south (I mean the real south people) and everyone keeps speaking to me in that irritating southern accent and saying hello and how are you doing. I don’t know you people and I don’t want to get acquainted. I’ll never see you again, what IS the point? There were a lot of nice shops, but, of course, I didn’t find one thing. The hot, hot sun made me grumpy as hell. I wish I lived where it was always about 68 with a slight breeze. The sun makes me sick. I may need to move to the west coast. Of course I’ll have to lose lots and lots of weight first, dye my hair blonde, get a weave, veneers, & breast implants just to fit in, but the weather will be nicer. This bum stood by me while I was on the phone talking to another county prosecutor and said “excuse me” about 200 times in the course of about 8 minutes. I ignored him the whole time and he finally went away. Get away from me, you bum! I’m just as broke as you. At least you have freedom, I’m an economic slave.
*This rant brought to you by the FJN Center for Bitterness & Hostility. Special thanks to The Aggression Think Tank and The Malice & Venom Group, Ltd.
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