A Life on Reserve

I totally and completely look like this at work.

As many of you know, I am a flight attendant. If you didn't know that, we clearly don't talk and we should really reconsider our obviously surface Facebook friendship. Let's get real; I just want to see if you're still making questionable dating choices (This one seems good, but gurrrllll didn't they all?). You are just periodically checking in to see if I'm getting fat (HA! I'm NOT though not for lack of trying). We should probably call a spade a spade and make healthier life decisions. Comparison is the thief of joy or something. Jealousy is bad. Your boyfriends suck. Whatever.

My job isn't really a job. It's a lifestyle. And most of the time, I like it. It's never the same which keeps things interesting because even though its variable, I know when and what I'm doing.  But then reserve pops up. And then I think about dying.

Reserve means being on call. So there are days that I'm good to the company, and they can call me up at the drop of a hat, and send me anywhere. Which is cool. Except when it's not because it's terrifying. I figure the only way for you to get the full experience, is to imagine it. Come fly with me friends, that is, if Crew Scheduling gives you a trip....

1. Waking up after 9

They didn't call you at 3am! You're up with normal humans! You're already winning! SO the question now is, do you change and commit to making breakfast? Because the minute you do either of those things scheduling is gonna call. They can sense it, you making plans as you crack eggs for your labor- intensive fritatta. They don't get a fritatta. They don't want anyone to have one either so the minute you start making one, they're gonna send you on a 4 leg trip to Dallas. Is that what you want? I didn't think so.

Just put on some new pajama pants and eat some saltines. Get decadent. Throw some peanut butter on them. "The View" is on. There ya go.

2. Surviving phone calls

Sometimes, because you're not a friendless hermit, people will call you while you're on call and it will make you dry heave. Below, is an exchange you might have with a parent, if you are able to answer. Then again, you might be busy buying some Depends in preparation for the next non-scheduling call that might pop up.

Terrified you: WHAT MOM?
Mom: Honey, are you alright? You sound terrible!
TY: I'M ON RESERVE MOM. I told you NEVER to call me and that'd I'd call you if I went anywhere!
Mom: Well, I haven't heard from you for a while and I just wanted to check in and see how you're-
TY: OH how am I doing? EVERY TIME YOU CALL ME I HAVE A MINI STROKE. You are KILLING your baby girl! Do you like that?? Do you like killing me??

Then call waiting will beep and you'll frantically say you have to go only to be greeted by an automated message that your prescription is ready. After which you will weep bitterly and curse god.

The call is coming from inside the house.

3. Scheduling finally calls

I don't know why this event is as scary as it is. You know you're on call; this is not a surprise. You know what that means. You know that they can (and will) send you anywhere, anytime. You've been here for a while. You can hold your own, 9 times out of 10.

Also, they're calling you for a job you know and like (most days)  to do. It's not like they're gonna call you up and be like, "Hey! Flight attendant so and so! Great, we need you at the airport in two hours to do some open heart surgery. Bring your own scalpel. Also if you could find us a goat that be swell. We need a goat. Do both things for us or you're fired and we'll steal your firstborn someday and keep it as an office pet. Awesome, thanks so much."

Most of the time, the trips are pretty decent* and contrary to that irrational voice in your head when you see "scheduling"  pop up on your screen, they're not going to eat you. They'll probably be very nice, and give you a trip that's at least ok, and you'll know what you're doing which will be a welcome change from sitting around in your flannels watching reruns and surviving off of toast.

But you'll still almost cry when you have to talk to them. I don't know if this ever goes away with time. I hope they can't tell. Cause you answer with that breathy whiny "I'm almost crying so maybe I'll go up a few octaves because for some reason I feel like that will cover up that fact" voice. And it's awkward. And they're giving you a trip, not skinning an orphan. Calm. Down.

4. You just got Newark-ed*

NO

There is ONE little catch when it comes to getting "decent" trips. You see, you happen to be a New York based flight attendant. Which means that you fly out of LaGuardia, and JFK, and yes, sometimes Newark. Yes it IS in a different state. Yes it IS at least 3 hours away. No you have NOT lived until you've paid $50 round trip to get to and from work. I'm not going to sugarcoat it. It's the worst thing ever, but it's just part of the territory.

You'll swear a lot after you get off the phone with the very apologetic scheduler. They know we hate it. But it's the FAA's world and we're all just living in it. You'll say every swear word you know, and some that you'll invent.

Your roommates will tell you they're sorry about your Newark trip. They could tell because of the swearing. They'll come in to watch you as you run around frantically packing last minute items since you now have to leave immediately because it's SO FAR AWAY. Then you'll say your goodbyes...

"Friends, comrades, roommates, it's with a heavy heart I tell you I have received orders to trek out to Newark Liberty Airport. Liberty, they say? A cold harsh irony that name seems to me, as my journey there will soon make me a prisoner of the New Jersey transit.

My provisions should last until nightfall, however, if I leave now I should be able to reach the first rest stop while there's still daylight enough to water my oxen and hunt some small game. The weather is fair, and the Hudson is low this time of year, so let us hope I will be able to ford my suitcase without incident.

Scheduling has given me five hours, so as long as the Jersey Airtrain isn't down for the 8 millionth time, and I don't succumb to cholera or the Holland Tunnel, I should be able to make it in time. The way is long and the path winding, but carry on I must, with naught but a Travel Pro and my work ID as companions. Godspeed my friends. I hope we meet again. If we should not, I know one of you stole my toothpaste. Also there is chocolate under my bed that's fair game. Fare thee well."

Sure, sometimes reserve is scary, and it might age you prematurely, but at the end of the day you get to tell people at dinner parties you're a flight attendant and have a really cool looking FB life (look at that, brought it FULL CIRCLE in the this post cause I'm cool like that) so it's really totally worth it.

"Bang, bang. You're dead." Life lessons gleaned from excessive viewing of I.D's "Deadly Women"

Do you watch Investigation Discovery? If not, you should. Not just because now that it's getting more popular there are official T-shirts, but also because it's the best of the worst television out there. Its melodramatic campy reenactments of various murderous felonies  have not only kept me entertained for hours on end, but have taught me many things about life.

Let's begin:

1. Never take in a lodger/tenant

Sure you might need the money. But think, do you need that money more than you need to be alive? Because in my "Deadly Women" experience, if that tenant is a girl, she's gonna kill you and your wife for $300 of petty cash and your Jeep Wrangler. If that tenant is a guy, he's gonna start sleeping with your wife, and they're gonna slowly poison you while taking advantage of you in your confused poisoned state by drafting numerous expensive new life insurance policies.

They're plotting your demise while you sleep.

They will laugh and make out a lot while they mix together your ice cream and arsenic, and then when they feel like you're not kicking the bucket fast enough, she'll convince the new guy to smother you with a pillow. They'll get caught but you'll be dead, so really, it hardly seems worth the trouble.

2. Also never take in a wayward granddaughter 

Grandchildren need love and sometimes, a firm guiding hand. Especially if they're young ruffians raising all sorts of heck. You might think you're the one to provide your grandchild with the loving guidance to help her get back on the right track.

You don't know what you're doing. Granddaughters are evil. Run.

Cause she will inevitably meet a boy. She'll be between 13 and 15. He'll be at least 25. Because this all needs to be as creepy as possible. He'll turn her into a goth and or a jerk, you'll fight a lot and forbid her to see him. She'll sneak out anyway. You'll probably slap her.

It's all fun and games till she starts dating that Satanist.

Then she and her cradle-robber will come over and push you down some stairs. I told you. Run as fast as your orthotics and bum hip will allow.

3. Apparently, based off numbers 1 and 2, the world is just teeming with crazies willing to team up to kill people.

Maybe I'm wrong, but I feel like if I turned to anyone in my life and was like, "Yo, this person is super annoying and irritating, and they wronged me so I'd like to kill them. Busy Saturday? Want to help?" their response would be "Nope, I'm gonna leave now, after I call 911. Bye."

But apparently, according to "Women" this is not the norm. No, the world is full of crazy women, who somehow find even crazier men, who like to join forces and whack people. I mean I like to bond over episodes of "Extreme Couponing" and spooning, but maybe I'm an old-fashioned gal.

4. Everyone in the world is apparently secretly Austrailian

So on this show they like to re-enact the events of the murder. The actors are always significantly more attractive than the actual perpetrators. This is about all the have going for them. Frankly the people in the Goldbond commercials have more acting skills.

Also, I can only guess that the show is produced in Australia, since, no matter where the case is set, from Indianapolis to Houston, the actors are all clearly Australian. Their accents are terrible. They all sound like they have peanut butter stuck to the roof of their mouths. It's like a Canadian who maybe moved down to Memphis when they were 12 is talking. And it's perfect.

5. Candice DeLong is god.

She's a retired FBI profiler. She's been growing her hair out over the past few seasons. It was rocky for a while, but now that she's out of the initial "my hair isn't long but it isn't short" awkward phase, she's looking pretty good. And she occasionally spits out the best one-liners in the world.

My favorite has to be, "There are many things you need to make s'mores. A hunting knife isn't one of them." Preach Candice. Preach.


In conclusion, all I can assume from the lessons I've learned on this show is that pretty much everyone is an Australian faking an American accent who would like to to go on a murderous rampage.

Yep. Everyone ever is a murderer. Sleep tight!

Flirting: A Guide Part 2

So let's be real. That last flirting guide was to be taken in jest. If any of you were naïve enough to take it seriously, well, I'm really very sorry. Up next, however, I thought I'd help you all out, like, for real.

Below you will find some of my many cautionary tales. I can't list all of them because I'm assuming you want to finish reading before you die.

Without further ado:

1. A line that probably won't get him feisty:

So there was this kid in my poetry class. Voluntarily. POETRY amiright?? Cute AND had a thing for Wordsworth. And I knew he was straight (I was 75% sure he was straight). It was like winning the lottery. We lived in the same dorm and he had come over a few times (He had come over to stand in the doorway and borrow notes a few times).

Needless to say, I thought things were progressing nicely. So this one time after class, we're walking back to our building when out of nowhere, this happens:

Ted*: Hey so, since it's Friday and all I was wondering if you wanted to maybe hang out or something?

Jordan:............

Ted: Or are you busy?

Jordan: ......NO. No, I mean not really. I mean I was gonna Skype-watch a Jane Austen movie with my best friend tonight, but I can totally just do that on Saturday.

Ted: Um, yea, so I'll just be by around 7 then?

He was not around by 7. Or 8. Or ever again. "Pride and Prejudice" was however, just as magical that 137th time as it was all the others.

Why participate in life when Keira can do it for me?

*Ted wasn't his name. Neither was Frank.

2. How to identify what was not, in fact, a line at all:

So there was this other kid in my American Lit class, and he was blonde and beautiful and this one time he came in carrying a CD I had JUST DOWNLOADED AND LOVED so clearly we were meant to be together. He sat right in front of me. Every MWF. So I decided I could finesse this situation. Eavesdrop a little. Find out what he liked and stuff. I had nothing but time.

Then one day, I decided that was it. I was going to do it. I was going to say "hi" to plaid-shirt-dude and let fate take it from there. And I did! Ready for it?

PSD: ACHOO
Jordan: Bless you!
PSD: Thanks.

And here was my fatal mistake: Here I thought, job well done. Contact made. Spring wedding it is. But as for him? I think he called me Jenny once.

Does dinner and a movie work for you?

My point is this my loveless friends; "Bless you" is not a line. Neither is "Excuse me".

3.This one would've been a disaster anyways, but it really wasn't my fault:

Once again we find ourselves in a classroom. A history classroom this time. Gen eds, you understand. I had been sitting next to this super cute guy for half a semester, and we were actually talking. Not just "responding to natural bodily nose functions" talking either. Really talking. And he was so so nice. And I knew it wouldn't be long. Subtext will follow in () because everyone knows that as girls there are always at least two conversations happening at once;

Ben: Hey so that test was way hard. I thought I'd do a lot better. Crap.

Jordan: Yea, some of those questions were totally worded badly. It was confusing. (He is going to ask me to study with him.)

Ben: Hey, so can I borrow the notes from last Friday when I was out? I didn't feel well. I promise I won't make it a habit to skip and just mooch off of you.

Jordan: Um, well, that depends. See cause I like to outline the actual book as I read it, and then I also take notes in class during lecture. And then I like to go home and cross-reference and type out a final outline based on the most important parts from each outline. So if you wanna wait until I have the final one all typed up I can give it to you the next time I see you? (Should I bring him soup? Airborne? He's so considerate. I bet he'd plan nice dates.)

Ben: Wow, geeze, you're thorough. You wouldn't want to study for Friday's quiz would you? I could totally use the help.

Jordan: Um, sure! (It's happening. It's all HAPPENING! I'm baking cookies.)

Ben: Great! 8ish? We can meet at my dorm. It's in St. Joesph's.

Jordan: Wait...is that the...(Cling to hope. Cling to it!)

Ben: Seminary? Yea! I take my vows in like 2 more years. I'm super stoked. I just wanna get my degree first.

Jordan: Yep. Cool. See ya then. (He's not getting cookies. I'm going to hell).

Hot and "Collared"

Game. Set. Match. Praise God.

And that, dear readers, is all the advice I have for today. If you take care not to follow my example(s) you will be in no way closer to having a successful flirting life. You will, however be closer to NOT not having a flirting life. Doing what I did above probably brought me to level -3 in terms of flirting skills. Who are we kidding? -5. Learn from my mistakes and you'll probably break even.

That's all I can give you.

Transportation; A Plebeian Account

Good God I'm back! After the incredibly sorrowful and tearful (on my end) death of my beloved pink laptop, I was left utterly bereft and frankly felt like using a new computer was a huge betrayal. However, I now know that my dead laptop has no feelings, however if she did, she would be like the world begging Selina Gomez (aka me) to move on already. So here I am.

By the way, this laptop is black, and as I type I'm becoming increasingly certain that any ability of mine to be funny is actually possessed by crazily colored computers. So we'll see how this goes.

After seeing a passenger get smacked in the head by the foot of a child pole dancing on the subway while he should have been in school (This happens all the time. Like, ALL THE TIME.) I began reflecting on the strange beast the subway really is. This was made all the more possible thanks to the music I had blaring from my iPod in an attempt to drown out the couple screaming Hungruspolian or whatever terrifying language that was. And so we have a playlist, a musical narration if you will, for all of the experiences that await you on one of New York's, nay, the world's, strangest modes of transportation.

1. When the train is super full...

...or perhaps (even more disturbingly) when it is not.

2. When you see that homeless person sleeping on one of the benches and it's like 2 degrees outside and you don't understand why life is so damn unfair? This is also the night you not only went out to eat, but ate 1/4th of your food and refused a box because carrying it just seemed... Really. Really. Hard. Like that cold plastic seat that man is now sleeping on. You monster.

Anne gets it. Sure you relate more to Eponine, but what girl doesn't? Seriously, what girl because her life was obviously a lot easier than mine and that's not fair.

3. When you suddenly stop feeling bad because then you smell the poor homeless man.

I'm sorry you're homeless. If I give you a dollar can I breath again?

4.When you finally manage to fight and squeeze and endure gropings enough to get a seat....and then a million nursing home residents and kids on field trips and pregnant women get on.

But you do. You do move. Because you believe in decency. And because you need karma points since you didn't feed that homeless guy who is still out cold.

5. That horrific moment you accidentally make eye contact. Or emote. 

No! Wait! You want to live!

6. What to do after you've smiled/ you feel like you've been on here far too long.

I'm glad you wanna run, since you had better, now that the whole train knows you're a big, smiling, softie. Also, while  the streets do have names, they might as well not since there's a 90% chance you have no idea where you're going.

It's cool. Let Bono be your guide.

Things I will miss about watching "Little Women" with my sisters on Thanksgiving

Well, friends, it's almost Thanksgiving, and while I will most likely be crying into some cold leftover French Fries tomorrow evening, I thought I'd reflect on one of my favorite parts of the holiday; either buck myself up or make myself more depressed. Guess we'll see by the end of this post.

In the past, every year whilst indulging in the great American tradition of over-eating, and much to the chagrin of my brothers-in-law, my sisters and I watch a haunting classic  that inspires, gladdens, and reminds us that if you don't have sisters you really don't have much. Sorry only children. You lost at this game called life the minute your parents decided you were gonna roll through it solo. Go nab some more turkey as you realize that you're doomed to trek through this world alone with the entire mantle of your parents' happiness  on your tired sad shoulders. Happy Holidays.

Anyways. "Little Women." We always watch "Little Women." Can we quote the entire movie? Yes. Do we? Yes? Does it make everyone in the family want to pop open another bottle of red? Yes. Do we care? No. Because we love it, like we love each other and if anyone tries to stand between us and that love, we will burn off their hair with a curling iron in a Josephine March kind of move.

Confession: I teared-up just finding this picture. So sue ue me for feeling.

Now, some specifics of the things I will miss during this experience:

1. Winoa Ryder talking

Does she have cotton balls stuck in her mouth? Did she lose part of her tongue in an unfortunate skiing accident? We'll never know, but what we do know is that it makes me want to giggle and hulk-smash ornaments at the same time and it's wonderful.

2.Baby Kristen Dunst

It's so weird to see her like that. Tiny and not malnourished.  Possessing a personality. Keeping her top on. Really takes you back.

3.Wishing Marmee was your Marmee

I love my mom don't get me wrong. But my mom doesn't really walk around saying quotes that sound like a Walt Whitman poem and a Hallmark card got married and produced a wise quote-baby that will talk you through any crisis you are having in your life. Susan Sarandon does. Cause she's Marmee. And she's reading from a script. 

I hate real life.

4. The dresses

I mean, what if we all just started dressing like they did in the 1800s again? Bet it wouldn't be weird if we all did it. They all look so pretty and like they're having so much fun in those hoop skirts. Come on guys. "Hoops" with me?!?!

5. Christian Bale is Theodore Laurence?

What? Batman was around back then? NO! Before he became (in my opinion) a really creepy version of Batman with a creepy scratchy "disguise" voice to match, he was sensitive, sweet, Byron-esque, Teddy who had eyes only for his music and Jo. 

(And later Amy the little one, when she grows up, but it's still weird because she was like his baby sister but you're willing to look past it because this movie is a GOD DAMN TREASURE) 

6. Watching this after too many old-fashioneds with my sisters

Because we quote it badly and it's never not funny and once they kill off the one sister (spoiler alert!)  there are three of them just like us. And we love it. And I miss them. That's all.

Thoughts on Hell; A Narrated Street Encounter

So. As it's a reasonably nice day outside, you decided to forgo the bus and walk, since 3 miles really isn't that far and Kelly Ripa told America to exercise more this morning. While you find her to be a hyperactive shrew-elf, it's good advice.

That's actually someone's face.

It's not until you're deep into your T.Swift iPod reverie, when you sense it, the way models sense the food trucks they must flee from.

You look up and to your horror, you see them. The fancy clipboards. The over-enthusiastic smiles that say, "We're halfway through undergrad and totally unskilled so, here we are", and the overall peppy infuriating audacity of it all.

They are those kids who accost passersby on the sidewalk for any number of charities they probably made up.

And you've just made eye-contact. You beautiful fool.

Get away you green-vested freak.

You pray that maybe because you are jamming to Taylor, they'll let you be because you know that like the rebel armies they are fighting against on behalf of Amnesty International they DO take prisoners. Dear God they're about to take you.

The words "Do you have a minute to save the planet" rain down with a sickening thud like the horrible punch dubbing of a "Walker Texas Ranger" episode and you know you're caught. Let's not lie: you're on your way to Payless. You do have a minute. You can't run away. That would make you a monster. That would make you one of them.

As the snot-nosed brat launches into statistics about how the world is basically dead (much like your will to live) you briefly consider telling him something to end it all. Something like, " Oh, you know, actually I'm on my way to pick up some tile for a house I'm building on protected precious marshland. Yes. My house is actually being made out of bamboo and rare trees from the Amazon. Once it's built my family of 20 and I plan to take multiple hour long showers daily before we feast on seared Polar Bear and baby Panda."

But you would never. You have a soul, whereas this man, he has a World Wildlife Fund hat and a quota.

So you listen politely, give him a smile at the close, and turn to be on your way.

It's then that he scoffs judgmentally, jeering as he says that's great, and he's glad you have sooo much compassion for the dolphins.

Tears prick your eyes as you almost turn round to retort, " 'Flipper' is my favorite movie, you tree-hugging monster. And I DID give you something today. My soul. Isn't' that enough? ISN'T IT?"

But you stare straight ahead and walk on. Because he doesn't get to win. Not today. 

Not about dolphins.

Not about life.

I never promised you a hash-brown casserole

I think we all know what time it almost is. It's almost casserole season. Let's get pumped. Oh wait...I'm in New York now? Well crap.

Le sigh. Sometimes I forget what a novelty casserole type foods are. For in the Midwest they are a staple, like collegiate state T-shirts or making sure your offspring knows the catchphrase to monitor corn's growing progress ("How tall must the corn be to be a marketable crop, Jimmy?" "Knee high by the forth of July?" "Good job son, here's a butter cookie.")

Ah casseroles. Hearty. Filling. Full of many different foods combined to bake well at high temperatures. Expect one if your husband broke his foot or your dog died. Your neighbor will bring it over and tell you he/she made you some tuna noodle casserole because it reheats like a dream. They will then express sympathy for your hardship and remind you of the proper cooking duration and temperature. They will make sure to mention this several times in conversation, passive-aggressively make a dig at you decor, and leave.

It seems there are many differences between the two regions I now identify with, especially when it comes to food. To clarify, I now present to you, a summary of a typical Midwestern Family Dinner or MFD. We begin:

My sisters and I indulge in some idle gossip while my mother bemoans such talk and then proceeds to tell us all about the lesbian neighbors' latest row. She then tells us to set the table. We down our old-fashioneds, and, obnoxiously quoting "Little Women", obey. Because that's what we do in the middle of the country. What we're told.

We say a before-meal prayer, made awkward by the fact that two out of the three of us daughters are at least agnostic; we might live in the Heartland, but times are still a'changing. But like our love of the word "pop" our Midwestern moral compasses endure, don't you worry. 

We spend a moment inquiring about the origin of the potatoes comprising the three to four starch-filled dishes that come standard with any dinner in the Land of Heart. We settle on Idaho and Wisconsin and bemoan those states for not being Illinois. The Mars Cheese Castle at the Illinois/Wisconsin boarder is the next topic, and my sisters and I mock it while we are secretly heartbroken that we have never actually stopped there on our way to the Wisconsin wilderness. 

Wait they serve cocktails?? Why have we never stopped here???

My mother will talk about distant family that we don't know being dead or close to death as my sisters and I get seconds. My father will get frustrated at the dogs as they climb on chairs and tables in an effort to eat some chicken and rice bake. He will swear and go get a beer. One brewed in either St. Louis or Milwaukee because other beer simply doesn't exist. He will be taciturn and morose the rest of the evening until he falls asleep in a chair by 7:30.

Dessert follows and is either a banana pudding, or a Duncan Hines cake mix with too much frosting. As "Wheel of Fortune  comes on the TV, we know it's time to leave, and after making sure we help clear the table, we depart, with tupperware full of leftovers in our arms. Because after all, in case you weren't aware, casserole is easily reheated. But god help you if you stick it in an oven set higher than 350. God. Help. You.

 Ahh yes, I miss it already.