Soon, a matter of six hours in fact, I will be leaving for Boston. The nice thing about flying out of Austin is I don't need to fret about people getting a free looksies at my bits. The Austin-Bergstrom airport is a nice, compact airport. I love it for its simplicity. There's just one, long, gently curved area that all traffic arrives and departs from. If you are inclined to always run late, this is the airport suited for your needs. The nicest part is it being a second-floor terminal, the floor cannot support the weight of the full-body scanners. Brahahahaha! It's a relatively new airport (opened in 1999), and its fancy, modern design is getting in the way of asinine terrorist-prevention efforts. Score for people like me who cannot stand the idea of scanners.
On a recent return trip from Florida, Meggles was forced to not only endure the scanner, but also a pat-down, because apparently, the scanner isn't enough to detect if a woman wearing a tank-top, leggings and a wrap-around skirt is smuggling something underneath her clothing. Her husband had to go through the same thing, and even had his wallet rifled through (he was holding it above his head during the full-body scan just as he was instructed to do). So my lovely got a dose of radiation and a pat-down. Please prepare to see me on the national news Tuesday evening. I will cause a scene if this happens to me. I will be opting out of the body scan at Logan, and going straight to the pat-down; thus, chances for a scene are slightly decreased. I refuse to get upset thinking about it right now.
I'll send out a note if I am about to get arrested. Then I'll send out another one when I escape from the handcuffs (Note of full disclosure: I kind of want to get arrested just to see if I can actually slip out of the handcuffs--the bones in my hand are practically collapsible). The only thing left to determine is if I will go running around the airport trying to evade the cops. Which will entirely depend on how terrible my allergies are that day--my death wish being directly proportional to the amount of snot in my body.
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Texting with Nauticalina:
Our Thoughts on A Boy
N:...Annoying. Oh, well. He's probably bad in bed...Too bony and self-conscious.
G:...I bet he doesn't go down on a girl. Or, if he does, he surfaces within a minute all proud of himself.
Our Thoughts on My Ass' Cash-Value When Determining Oral-Sex Pricing
N:...That's good. You don't want to freeze off your massive donk.
G: No kidding. How would I bring all the boys to the schoolyard without it?
N: Offer them your world-famous $5 BJ
G: I can charge $10, though, with this ass.
N: Yeah, but $15 would be pushing it.
G: I know. Sniffs.
Our Thoughts on Days-Gone-By
N: I picked up a few tricks during my short film-making days.
G: Of course. While I just picked up tricks.
Our Thoughts on the Necessity and Direct Availability of Rubber Sheets
G:...I'm pretty confident he'll be really awesome and a good house guest. Unlike you and all that peeing in the bed you do.
N: I do it on purpose.
G: It never occurred to me that it could have been accidental.
N: You are wise to lay out the rubber sheets.
G: I'll just borrow them from your bed.
N: You can't. I've currently got your mother handcuffed to the bed posts.
G: I'll just take the sheets out from underneath her. It'll be no trouble at all.
On a recent return trip from Florida, Meggles was forced to not only endure the scanner, but also a pat-down, because apparently, the scanner isn't enough to detect if a woman wearing a tank-top, leggings and a wrap-around skirt is smuggling something underneath her clothing. Her husband had to go through the same thing, and even had his wallet rifled through (he was holding it above his head during the full-body scan just as he was instructed to do). So my lovely got a dose of radiation and a pat-down. Please prepare to see me on the national news Tuesday evening. I will cause a scene if this happens to me. I will be opting out of the body scan at Logan, and going straight to the pat-down; thus, chances for a scene are slightly decreased. I refuse to get upset thinking about it right now.
I'll send out a note if I am about to get arrested. Then I'll send out another one when I escape from the handcuffs (Note of full disclosure: I kind of want to get arrested just to see if I can actually slip out of the handcuffs--the bones in my hand are practically collapsible). The only thing left to determine is if I will go running around the airport trying to evade the cops. Which will entirely depend on how terrible my allergies are that day--my death wish being directly proportional to the amount of snot in my body.
__________________________________________________________________
Texting with Nauticalina:
Our Thoughts on A Boy
N:...Annoying. Oh, well. He's probably bad in bed...Too bony and self-conscious.
G:...I bet he doesn't go down on a girl. Or, if he does, he surfaces within a minute all proud of himself.
Our Thoughts on My Ass' Cash-Value When Determining Oral-Sex Pricing
N:...That's good. You don't want to freeze off your massive donk.
G: No kidding. How would I bring all the boys to the schoolyard without it?
N: Offer them your world-famous $5 BJ
G: I can charge $10, though, with this ass.
N: Yeah, but $15 would be pushing it.
G: I know. Sniffs.
Our Thoughts on Days-Gone-By
N: I picked up a few tricks during my short film-making days.
G: Of course. While I just picked up tricks.
Our Thoughts on the Necessity and Direct Availability of Rubber Sheets
G:...I'm pretty confident he'll be really awesome and a good house guest. Unlike you and all that peeing in the bed you do.
N: I do it on purpose.
G: It never occurred to me that it could have been accidental.
N: You are wise to lay out the rubber sheets.
G: I'll just borrow them from your bed.
N: You can't. I've currently got your mother handcuffed to the bed posts.
G: I'll just take the sheets out from underneath her. It'll be no trouble at all.
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