I’m back!
After a hellish three-plane mission, fraught with rude stewards, savage turbulence, and endless screaming babies- I’m back.
To be honest there was only one screaming baby, but it was the worst screaming baby I have ever heard. For the entire five hours between LA and New York last night (the final leg of a mind-bending 30 hour jaunt) this one baby shrieked it’s blood-curdling cry non-stop. It was like Hervé Villechaize was being burnt alive in the seat behind me. It honestly sounded like the child was being tortured. I had to look back a couple of times just to be sure the father wasn’t holding a cigarette lighter under it’s feet.
I’ve heard babies cry before, lot’s of babies, but none have made my skin crawl like this one. It was this kind of sickening, burbling, grating, ear-stabbing wail that made you want it to stop immediately at any cost, even if that meant death. Yes. That’s right. I just said I wanted the baby to die. After three hours of this thing’s unholy caterwauling I actually thought that the best thing for it, and certainly the best thing for everyone else on the plane, would be it’s passing and subsequent return to hell.
I can’t really blame the baby though. It was the negligent-ass parents that should have met the firing squad. What a pair of unqualified, wooden-headed imbeciles they were. I don’t have any children of my own but I’m pretty sure you pass a distressed baby back and forth between you a bit in these situations. Not these idiots though. Not a chance! Instead they used the old ‘Dad incessantly saying Ssssh for five hours’ technique. Fucking morons. The only way I could get any sleep was to listen to Pantera at maximum volume, and even then I could still hear the evil little bastard screeching in the background.
Why didn’t I just drug myself? I’ll tell you why- Because my girlfriend was controlling the drugs is why. She gingerly doled out the Xanax in halvsies, just enough to make you feel a teeny bit sleepy, but not enough to actually knock you out. I tried to reason with her that I was twice her size and therefore needed twice as much. She insisted that I was a “druggy” and needed to chill-out. I’m not sure what’s worse- An ‘enabling’ drug-user girlfriend- OR- the irreproachable Sister Mary Nicey-Nice I’m shacked up with now.
Just kidding, my little squirrel-paw. XXX

Anyway, I’m back now, and, after two weeks spent languishing in the pure country air, I’m ready to kick some ass… starting tomorrow. Way too weird today.

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