U.S. Scare

Too bad I didn't fly into Charlotte five days later. I would have enjoyed this. The reason U.S. Airlines pilots carry guns is they are afraid of the pissed-off passengers. I'm sure with a little Silly-Putty and Duct-Tape they will have that Air-Bus back in service in an hour. If I had a gun I'd have shot the toilet, then maybe it would drain and not stink up the plane.


This is a guarantee I found in my new The Message Bible. I find a lifetime guarantee in a Bible troubling. It should come with an eternal guarantee. "If after reading this Bible you are not born again please return the unread portion to God". I wish I could return it because I don't like the translation. I knew it was kind of an Amplified, Good News, Paraphrased translation. I owned the previous three and liked each one better than my Message bible. I traded my New American Standard for an NIV when it came out about 30 years ago. The NIV, while being the most accurate and precise translation isn't the most literary. The Message Bible is anemic. My favorite verses are not recognizable and some verses seem to just disappear. After about 500 pages of both Old and New Testaments I really think it is lacking. I'll look into the RSV and NAS in the future. There is always the Catholic Bible; I hear it has a few extra books. My translator recommended the Gnostic Bible. She told me it contained a few extra gospels. It even had a gospel written by John the Baptist. I always wondered what Jesus was up to during his formative years. This is just my scholarly
observation. I prefer my Bible not be a puff-piece.

Demon of U.S. Cellular; COME OUT!

Ever since I returned from Area-51 my cell phone is acting weird. It puts calls into voice mail after one ring, it breaks up and drops calls. I did the *228 thing to try to re-sync it, but it wouldn't sync, and the message displayed said contact Verizon. I stopped into Verizon and described what it was doing. As a joke I said it was acting like my old U.S. Cellular phone. The girl said that it was still programed for Las Vegas and was using U.S. Cellular towers. She gave me the secret *22800 code in case it ever happens again. Just a little reminder of why I left U.S. Cellular.

I'm turning into Raymond Barone

I forgot to tell the story of our getaway from Pahrump. In the mornings while my sister was taking care of the horses CP and I went out to breakfast. On Sunday we went out to Terrible Herbst Casino and had breakfast for two for $ 7.50. Then my sister told us about a new diner about a half mile from the ranch. On Mon. we went there and it was really nice. Breakfast cost $15.00 but there wasn't that casino smell. I look at the sign on the door and it says open 6 am.

CP told my sister we would see her in the morning and we left them passed out in the den after the clam-bake. Now I wake up @ 5:30 am and start my usual evacuation plan. CP says "we can't just sneak out like a bunch of gypsies", but I want that great breakfast before the 80 mile trip to the airport. So we sneak out which isn't easy because my sisters million dollar house has a burglar alarm system that chimes when you open the front door. Now the doors are never locked and all the keys are in the vehicles but the alarm came with the house and I don't think they know how to turn it off. After the rough night before I can't see waking them up. We sneak out. Carol is protesting as I pull away into the blackness that is always blackest in Area-51. I'm thinking about my plan again, so I say "We will go back to the house after breakfast". In two minutes we are at the diner. I check my watch, it's 6:15. CP says "It's dark in there" and I reply that there is a pick-up out front. I get out seeing visions of bacon n eggs and hot coffee. When I get to the door I see the guy inside scraping the 6 a.m. sign off the glass door. He opens the door a crack and mumbles "7 o'clock." By now CP is giving me looks that say "you idiot".

So I jump back in the car and speed back to the house. CP is harping at me "OK Mr. Class-Act what are you going to tell your sister". Now I know the chime went off when we left so I'm thinking maybe they are up. I walk in, my sister is sitting on the edge of the couch in her robe, half asleep. She says, "Where were you guys?" I'm thinking fast and then I just blurt out, "We were putting the stuff in the car." My sister says "I'll make coffee and there's bagels in the cupboard". CP is giving me the Debra Barone look. I'm trying to keep a straight face and not burst out laughing. I settle for the Ralphie look from A Christmas Story.

Don't Buy This @#?%

CB strikes again. Since I'm on vacation, just hanging around, I went to Sam's Club to get CP's tires rotated. That's the kind of stuff middle-aged-white-guys do on vacation. Since getting the tires took 4 hours I figured that a tire rotation was a good way to kill a day off. I was fortunate, I was the only customer, so it only took an hour and a half for the rotation. During this time I leisurely did my shopping.

I needed some Febreze. I like to spray Bo's couch and love-seat once a month. I couldn't believe they had Febreze. Usually they only have the commercial Odo-Ban; the concentrate that makes 30 gallons of spray. I'm in a quandary. Do I get 64 oz. of Fabreeze or the five quart Odo-Ban concentrate that makes up to 30 gallons? Deciding what drug to prescribe for someone is much easier than this. I tried to sniff the Odo-Ban but it was sealed under the cap. Since I couldn't smell anything I thought I was safe. I come home and remove the pre-filled spray bottle from the gallon jug and spray the couch, love-seat and my well seasoned recliner. Within 3 seconds of the first spray CP comes running out of the office choking. I continue to saturate these three pieces of furniture remaining in a state of denial.

Well, this stuff isn't a generic equivalent to Febreze. Now the house smells like a Motel-6, or worse, an airport rest-room. It's so bad that CP had to leave and went to the gym. At least it's warm out and I can open the windows. Ben's girlfriend came over and I had to tell her to wait outside. Elizabeth has multiple allergies and I thought this would put her into anaphylaxis. I will return it to Sam's. Usually I use half the product and then return it but I don't even want this chemical weapon in the house. Maybe I will wait for a rainy day, since it usually takes an hour to return something at Sam's. I was there so early I didn't even get any samples. I need some air, I'm feeling dizzy!

Clam Bake in Area 51

How do you relieve the stress of visiting relatives? Well my sister's idea is to have a clam-bake in the desert for 20 people. We start with appetizers: spicy roasted cashews, cheese puffs, and bread sticks wrapped in prosciutto.

Next, we add a dozen lobsters, a hundred clams, mussels, and shrimp. Also, there was 20 lbs. of red potatoes, 5 lbs. of Polish kielbasa, 5 bottles of wine and a case of Coors.




We had a little logistical problem getting all this stuff done on time. Hopping over the two mastiffs sleeping in the kitchen did not help. You don't see that on the cooking channel. It seemed like we couldn't get the water to boil well in the big lobster pots. The lobsters were so big only two fit in the pot at a time and it was hard to get the water back up to a boil. It wasn't the fast steaming it was suppose to be. Going by the clock and taking the lobsters out in three minutes caused me to serve a live lobster; technically it was almost dead. Team Carousel Farms was saved by one guest who actually knew how to cut up and serve a lobster. Desert was authentic New York miniature cannolis. What an ambitious undertaking. I would have served buffet style and wouldn't consider such an illustrious menu. When I entertain I always fall back on old trusted dishes. There were about eight more guests than were expected but everyone had their fill. We left my sister and brother in law at 10 pm and sneaked off to bed. They were both passed out in the den with the two English Mastiffs: Sherman and Mack.

Fear of Flying: Epilogue

We made it to our Phoenix connection where we found a psychotic gate attendant. Our flight was delayed because there weren't any flight attendants. The gate lady tries to get the mob's attention but the microphone doesn't work, even when she bangs it against the door jamb. She starts screaming at us, saying we have to get up and quickly get in our seats and get our stuff stowed. "Hurry, Hurry, Hurry!" I thought I was going to hear "mach schnell," and see the German guards with their dogs.

In Phoenix, we made our connection to Charlotte. We had seats on different side of the plane. However, the counter help in Vegas told us the person next to us shouldn't mind switching since they are both aisle seats. Of course CP and I are in different zones, so I have to load first. I told CP I'd look at the person across from her and then decide whether to ask her to change seats.

I see this 50-ish plump lady in the seat next to me, so I hesitate but then I ask her if she wouldn't mind sitting on the other side so I could sit with my wife. She paused and then, with a mild put-off look, said "OK." I failed to realize that she didn't just sit, she built a nest. She pulled two books and magazines out of the seat pocket, then got out her lumbar support, two bottles of water, a small cooler, blanket and cervical pillow and moves all this crap across the aisle to the seat I pointed to. In a little while, another passenger got on and told the flight that someone was in his seat. The attendant told the lady I moved that she was in the wrong seat and I'm trying to explain why she is there (because I'm a moron). Anyway, she had to move all her crap up one seat to CP's assigned seat. I am mortified. But then again, she got moved up to a bulkhead seat with plenty of leg room.

The in-flight movie was "August Rush," which was enough to cause air sickness. The Captain put on the seat belt sign and announced turbulence ahead for about 20 minutes. Well, in a bit I decided to use the lavatory before the movie ended since it didn't seem to be to rough.

I'm walking the whole length of the plane and was just getting to the back when the plane turns into a roller coaster. I'm being bounced around the bathroom like a Keno ball. I'm thinking, I can't stay in here forever, so I make my way back, grabbing every seat back, trying not land in someone's lap. Then, the captain came on the P.A. and announced, "Everyone, remain in your seats and if you have small children, make sure they are securely buckled in." I know the captain was really talking to the idiot in seat 10D.

If you ever fly on an AirBus 321 don't sit in rows 20 0r 21, as they are across from the potty. The girl next to CP was trying to make a connection to Hilton Head after she was bumped because her seat was broken. We got home about midnight. But I got back at US Air. I took three mussels that were left over from the clam-bake and left them under seat 10E.

Leaving Las Vegas, Maybe?

Here we are at the airport. Hopefully, I'll be on a flight to Phoenix in a couple of hours and then on to Charlotte. My US Air direct flight to Charlotte is canceled. The plane has to be checked out because of a vibration in the engine. The flight out had all sorts of vibrations. It was creaking like an old house in a hurricane. That plane was an Air Bus. Maybe that's why it stank so much. The Europeans can't smell the lavatory above their own BO. If I knew I was flying on a bus I'd of bought a bottle of Muscatel and sat in the back.

Flight From Hell

This was the worst flight of my life. Behind me sat three women, probably nurses, who talked constantly for the whole 4 hour flight. I'm not talking about normal voices here. I mean you could hear them four rows away. They were so loud I couldn't hear the movie or my i-Pod. I'm not sure what model plane we were on but in the middle of the plane right across from us was the lavatory. I don't know if all the passengers had Mexican food before boarding but about an hour into the flight it started to stink like an outhouse. Someone must have complained about the septic field odor because they sprayed some citrus air freshener that was sickening. It was like being in a cesspool of Tang. Thirty minutes out from Vegas the Captain requested all passengers return to their seats and buckle up for a rough ride. It was really turbulent and after a few good dips I realize I'm getting air-sick. We landed at the airport with my face in the barf bag; how embarrassing. Now I have flown dozens of times in little propeller planes and never got sick. I even survived Mesa Airlines in New Mexico which was known as "the vomit comet". I was able to regain my composure a bit before exiting since it was another 25 minutes before they opened the door. One of the cows sitting behind me pushed in front of me to get off a milli-second sooner. When she got to the door she told the stewardess it was the most pleasant flight she had ever been on. Perhaps if you are talking constantly at 85 decibels for four hours you can't smell the poop. No more US Air for me.

Still @ Airport

Still at the gate. Now there is a lady next to me blowing her nose every 30 seconds; there are tissues everywhere. Across from me is this huge guy sleeping on his belly, sprawled out like a dead guy. I wish I had a can of spray paint to trace his outline; new regulations won't permit a spray can past security. There is a lady across the isle with a hefty bag full of Animal Crackers for the trip. I hope I'm next to her. I need to use the restroom. I'm praying I don't run into some toe-tapping Senator from Idaho.

The Friendly Skies

Here we are at Charlotte International Airport waiting for our non stop flight to Vegas. The only thing missing is the plane. It's on the tarmac in Jacksonville, Fla. with mechanical problems. What happened, did the rubber band break? Put a can of Stop-Leak in it and let's take off already.

So, I have another two hours to sit here. It gives me time to look at all the rabble waiting at the gate with me. Who will sit next to me? Oh, there is the 700 lb. couple just across from me. It's not very warm in the terminal , yet sweat is dripping off them. And there is Bambi, she's wearing a white body stocking, I feel the urge to go over and pants her. Over there are the gang bangers, each one of them must weigh 400 lbs. There's a couple of DINKS sitting over there watching their mutual funds implode on their BlackBerry. Every 31 seconds the gate guy announces the new arrival time in some foreign dialect.

CP insisted we take the mini-laptop. (CP here: Babba told me it was a dumb idea.) I'm glad we did because now you can get live uncut Babba. I just keep telling myself that sometime tonight I'll be in Area-51 looking for UFO's with the rest of the residents at the home.

Babba may be in danger!

Ruth Sandy CP

Today CP went out with the neighborhood girls for coffee at the Ugly Mug. I asked her how it went and CP said, " We had a great time, lots of laughs except me being the only married one didn't have much to say when they started talking about men". Tonight I start sleeping with one eye open. Tomorrow I'm going to change my will. So if you hear that Babba drowned in the bathtub or got hit by a falling recipe book you know it wasn't an accident. We all know CP hates to be left out of the conversation!

Bo saved by Heimlich Maneuver

We had a little excitement here last night. At 8 pm I gave Bo his raw-hide chew and we got our decaf and were settling in for the next Survivor episode. Bo is behind the couch enjoying his chewy when I hear a yelp and he goes running into Ben's room. I go in there and he is jumping around like a bucking bronco and violently shaking his head back and forth. He would do this for about 10 seconds and then he would sit perfectly still with a terrified look on his face for a minute and then do it all over again. I guessed he had the rawhide stuck in his throat. Now Bo being the pig that he is usually inhales his raw-hide chew and then spits it up and chews it a little more and swallows and repeats the cycle a few times. It's real pleasant to listen to.

Now Ben and I are in the room with him trying to calm him down. I'm thinking "he's breathing; I should let him work it out himself." After about twenty minutes he runs out into the living room. CP, who is engrossed in the latest immunity challenge on Survivor, asks if everything is OK. "It's not", I say as Bo goes into another psychotic episode. I'm afraid I'll make it worse if I try to examine him. Then I remember our neighbor is a veterinary assistant so we call her up and she comes running over. She looks at Bo who is in his sitting phase and then sees him start bucking and says "this is not good". We grab Bo and she opens his mouth and reaches in and removes the chewy. It was wedged against is soft palate like a denture. I was so excited it took me an hour to fall asleep later. I know everyone is tired of Bo stories but this was freaky. Does anyone want a newly open bag of beef-basted raw-hide chews?

He's Still Alive!!!!!!

Who is John Galt?

Last night I watched another depressing foreign film. "The Death of Mr. Lazarescu", is a film that chronicles the last three days of an elderly Hungarian widower under socialized medicine in Hungary. Anyone who thinks a state sponsored single-payer plan is the answer to the U.S. private insurance system should watch this film.

I think I'm seeing the scenario of Atlas Shrugged played out before my eyes. I'm starting to see Who is John Galt? graffiti. I read Atlas Shrugged as a young adult and if there was an abridged version I'd read it again. Thirteen hundred pages, and very verbose, it is a must read at least once. I've linked to Wickipedia for those who want more information about John Galt and Ayn Rand. For now I'm keeping my eyes peeled for Who is John Galt bumper stickers around Asheville.