cunctabundus

a new way to kill time.

Category: cooper

my heart, my waffle…

Growing up, my mom would make pancakes. Personally, I am a failure when it comes to making breakfast, but not my mother. She made excellent eggs, tasty taters, and bumpin bacon. But her pancakes? Her pancakes were perfect. They were round and crisp and fluffy, but not too fluffy. They were fragrant, and golden, and cooked to perfection. Truly, they were a thing of beauty.

But then again, they were just pancakes.

It wasn’t until Douglass that I had my first.

explore the subtext

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girlfriend can do SO much better…

Boarding a plane is an insane experience. There is the slight flush when you see that your row is empty. Could a girl be so lucky? Usually not. You hope for the best, but to no avail. You make the best of a situation and hope that the person next to you is either cute, interesting, or very sleepy. You hope that they don’t smell, have an ample supply of gum. You hope that they won’t roll their eyes when you accidentally start making small talk. Any hope that one might harbor is immediately dashed when a gushy couple invades your beautifully empty row. Welcome to my world.

It was 0700 hours, and there I was on an ATA flight out of LaGuardia. As I said, it’s probably too much to think that I might get an empty row. They appeared out of nowhere. Actually, that’s kind of what it felt like. I was in the exit row, and they went around the row in front and snuck to the inside seats. Like skulking Jedis. Guess you had to be there. Kind of hard to paint the word picture. Anyhow, it was not a minute before they started with the canoodling.

Seriously, get a room. It was seven in the morning, and they were being ridiculous. I try to ignore it, but they were right there. So then I took a good long look. The girl was kind of adorable. She had that slightly aged, varsity cheerleader look to her. The guy? Egads. I don’t like to think of myself as vain, but woof.

There was nothing pretty, or even slightly charming about this dude. Greasy hair, bad skin, little teeth. How on earth did he get this chick. I really don’t get it. To pad his resume of charm, he whips out a photography magazine and starts lecturing his gal pal on the pros and cons of aperture settings. Not for nothing, but half the turds flying from his mouth were totally wrong. That just made him uglier. Of course, me being me peeked over to see what magazine he was using as his prop, and he thought that he had captured another admirer. My luck, it encourages him. He starts speaking louder, in that bizarre, slightly strained tone that one takes on when they want others to overhear their conversation. You’ve done it, so don’t pretend you don’t know what I am talking about. FYI, not everyone is interested. I privately cringed and then put on my iPod. That’s right. We weren’t even at 10,000 feet! I am such a rebel!

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May 11th resolution: Tune out the ugly man. Tune in AC360.