After a bl*gworthy giddy up and the subsequent near-death beating from preserved beaver pelts and Moosehead bottle caps, your humble narrator is on to the second leg of what will come to be known as, “The International Incident-Laden Holiday That May Have Ultimately Ruined Youth Day, Broken Hearts, Embarrassed My Mother, and Brought New Meaning to the Phrase. ‘I Wonder What It Feels Like With a Di*k In It.’”
Remind me to follow up in a few months to see how many times that phrase was Googled and led you here.
I’m sensitive, ya’ll. I’ve become unable to quietly digest airline food in socially acceptable fashion. A part of me secretly hopes I pass this trait onto my future daughter and it lies dormant until around the time she starts dating. Anyway, as a diplomatically firm response to my Business Class seat not being able to recline last night, I spent the latter half of the 11-hour flight exploring the Economy cabin. Not only because I think it’s funny, really, really funny, but because when you’re superior to someone, you can do that sort of thing. It’s like when you and Dad used to play the Fart Game and he always won.
As the sun inched its way over the horizon,
And we inched our way down into Johannesburg, reality began to set in and it became clear that skills like these won’t help me here.
I’ve been here 10 hours and have already come down with food poisoning. Guests are advised not to leave the hotel property and security is literally visible around every corner. And I sit here, struggling with which stereotypes to cling to and which ones to do away with. But as the sun is now gone, I’ll heed their advice tonight. For I fear the natural camouflage of the night is evolutionarily superior to my visual acuity and ability to make a South African man giggle.
Remind me to follow up in a few months to see how many times that phrase was Googled and led you here.
I’m sensitive, ya’ll. I’ve become unable to quietly digest airline food in socially acceptable fashion. A part of me secretly hopes I pass this trait onto my future daughter and it lies dormant until around the time she starts dating. Anyway, as a diplomatically firm response to my Business Class seat not being able to recline last night, I spent the latter half of the 11-hour flight exploring the Economy cabin. Not only because I think it’s funny, really, really funny, but because when you’re superior to someone, you can do that sort of thing. It’s like when you and Dad used to play the Fart Game and he always won.
As the sun inched its way over the horizon,
And we inched our way down into Johannesburg, reality began to set in and it became clear that skills like these won’t help me here.
I’ve been here 10 hours and have already come down with food poisoning. Guests are advised not to leave the hotel property and security is literally visible around every corner. And I sit here, struggling with which stereotypes to cling to and which ones to do away with. But as the sun is now gone, I’ll heed their advice tonight. For I fear the natural camouflage of the night is evolutionarily superior to my visual acuity and ability to make a South African man giggle.
