I Wasn't Born With Enough Middle Fingers

I just returned from my exciting business trip to Arizona. A lot has happened since I last blogged on Tuesday. Here's an overview.

- The Las Vegas airport truly sucks the knobby cock of Satan. With the exception of the casinos, everything in Vegas is built under the assumption that no one will ever visit or move to this town ever again. The roads are outdated a year BEFORE they're built and the airport is smaller than the one in Phoenix. There was a line at the security checkpoint which rivaled that of a brand new coaster at Magic Mountain, staffed by old people still bitter because Rosa Parks wouldn't give them her seat.

- The flight was delayed slightly, mostly due to the business-suit asshole who refused to check his giant suitcase at baggage claim. As large as that bag was, it wasn't big enough to store his bloated sense of entitlement. He sat behind me, so I had to listen to the usual cliched "corporate speak" most stupid people use to appear intelligent to other stupid people.

"I had to let her go, because, hey, I want a team player who can think outside the box."

I hope she kills him. Even if she deserved to be fired, even if she was the worst employee in the history of work, I pray to god she shoots him out of his leather chair. NO ONE WILL MISS HIM. His life is empty and meaningless. Imagine life if she slaughtered him. One less person to yell at service industry workers for problems beyond their control; one less douche screaming into his cell phone because he wants everyone to notice it's the latest model; one less ass-chapeau to cut us off in traffic; one less time I have to hear "think outside the box."

As usual, the emergency exit row, with all of its precious leg room, was occupied by three ladies, none of whom broke the five-foot barrier. I hope each of them suffers from an unexpected bout of gigantism and hover at the eight-foot mark by the end of the year. I hope creeping ivy grows from their twats.

- Phoenix, "All of the heat, none of the fun," isn't my favorite place, but the Sheraton hotel they put us in was nice. There's a lounge in the lobby, so the first night we watched part of the World Series and had a beer. The second night we went to a bar called the Library, where it was "Redneck Night". This means they put hay on the floor, because hay = farmer, and obviously the farmer who nurtures the soil and grows food isn't nearly as sophisticated as the "marketing director" of a shitty dump of a bar in Tempe. They also assaulted my ears with hair metal, which I hated when I was young and has not a fucking chance now that I'm old. The waitresses were cute and wore short shorts, but they're just as cute at Hooter's and I can get wings there.

We didn't stay there long. We went downstairs to a dueling piano bar. It's just like the one at New York-New York in Vegas, except the place was almost empty and the piano players were annoying and at best marginally talented. But aside from that, just the same.

- During the day I had to listen to a bunch of vendor reps talk about their products. To say I was disinterested would be an understatement. If my life would have depended on my feigning even the slightest bit of interest in the proceedings, I'd be dead now.

- One of my co-workers is so annoying I wanted to stuff him in a box and mail him to a foreign country. Luckily I never have to work with him. For one thing, he puts "Mr." in front of everyone's first name. "Good morning, Mr. Todd." "What's for lunch, Mr. Todd?" "I'm the most nerve-racking tool alive, Mr. Todd." Finally I had to say to him, "Mr. Todd was Abe Lincoln's father-in-law. Just call me Todd, please." Suddenly I'm the asshole. Who cares? He never talked to me again, so mission accomplished.

- My Bauhaus trip is off. My friend with the tickets has to work. I can still get the tickets, but no one else I know in Vegas likes Bauhaus and I'm not about to drive the rolling deathtrap to Los Angeles. I'll spend Halloween Weekend alone, drinking bourbon and throwing a shoe at the television when something happens to anger up my blood. I'm hoping to spend Thanksgiving Day at a greasy buffet, eating pressed turkey and all the fixin's with a plastic spork.

- In political news, Harriet Miers, President Bush's handmaiden, withdrew her name as a nominee for the Supreme Court. I hereby "Nelson" the Prez with a hearty "Haw haw!" Also, Cheney's top aide, "Scooter" Libby, resigned after being indicted on criminal charges. I know everyone deserves due process, but this is a grown man named "Scooter":

Guilty!!!

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