Your Girlfriend is Ugly

Coming to you live from the land of warehouses and gas stations!

I'll start this blog off by saying that I've been awake since 4:50 AM.That is cruel and unusual so I cannot be held accountable for any whining or spelling mistakes. 

In any case I'm here in New Jersey on assignment. I have been in an office building all day that has no windows, grey fabric cubical walls for days, floors that bounce when you walk and such intense flourescent lighting you could probably hatch eggs. I'm not entirely sure what it is about these types of office settings but everyone has a plant. There is foliage at every corner! Every person from HR to AP to IT has a mini green house.

Naturally when I arrived at Newark airport, the cab driver had no idea where he was going. As he sped off he asked, "Ok. Which way do I go?"

I had just broken ground on my second coffee of the day. I was in no mood.

"What?"

"How you want me to go? 287 or 95?"

"I have no clue," then I waved my hand around, "pop it into your GPS."

"I no have GPS, fancy lady."

"Well..."

"Where are you going? Home?"

By asking me if I was going home this implied that he thought I had arrived on the red eye since it was around 8am. This troubled me because it meant that I looked bed raggled enough to have taken an overnight flight...in a skirt.

"No I'm not going home. I'm going on assignment."

"Well I don't know the back roads and I don't want to be driving around. Can you call someone?"

"Can you?!"

"No."

We were stopped in the middle of the highway right before the deciding point to take 287 or 95. It was at this juncture when I realized that my non-camera phone Blackberry has GPS. I tapped in my end location and up popped the directions. I waved it at the cabbie, "Take 287."

"Thanks fancy lady."

"You're welcome."

I arrived at the location of my assignment.

"Total is sixty-nine dollars."

I handed over my card and he looked at it like I was handing him a placenta. Then he threw his hands in the air and said," You are paying with a card?! I don't take cards. Cash ONLY!!"

"What? I don't believe you.It's 2008. All cabs take cards. Get out your voucher or something."

He gestured towards his dash board, "I don't have the card machine and no vouchers."

Of course I had cash but cabbies always lie and say they don't take cards. As it happened I had exactly $70 for my $69 cab ride. I was calling his bluff and he wasn't bluffing. He took the cash and chucked my bags on the ground.

"Have a good one!" I called after him.

I'm staying at the Hilton Garden Inn at the Raritan Center and there isn't a whole bunch to do here. I needed to get some cash and being sans vehicle, walked up to the drive-thru ATM. Its about as crazy as you can get.

I did get to see Puma and the child though. He's so adorable. I was holding him at Starbucks and was secretly pretending he was mine. The jig was up though when he did a mini barf and I looked away and just said all snervy to Puma "Uuuuhm...I think he puked."

At present time I am lounging in my bed with my polyblend 4 count sheets and a view of 287. Get this: I called downstairs and asked for a room service menu so I could get some breakfast in the morning...no room service for breakfast! How bogus is that? Not only am I in New Jersey, but I can't even enjoy some well done scrambled eggs at the hotel. I'd like to say I'm just going to get drunk but there isn't a mini bar.

My tour de tri-state area continues tomorrow and goes on through Sunday. Stay tuned.

Tales from a conference. PART I: The Flight Down

Bloggers Note: After re-reading this blog I decided to add a little disclaimer. You may read this and think, "Wow. Lisa really hates kids. Geez she's a meany." Quite the opposite in fact. I plan on having enough kids to field my own baseball team some day. I just really feel that children should be seen and not heard. Hey that's how I was raised. I was never the source of any entertainment and after Looney Toons it was bed time. I turned out pretty damn great and I just feel that if your kid jumps on the nice ladies jacket for the third time, maybe you should get up off your ass, grab him and have him sit next to you.

Enjoy the reads!

So as you guys know I was attending a conference in Florida last week (p.s. every time I go to type Florida, I type Floriday. It's getting to be really annoying.) The show focused on packaging and how we as packaging sherlocks can save the earth by using recyclable and "sustainable" (buzzzzzzzzzz word) materials and (nerd alert) biopolymers. It was actually pretty interesting and when I'm finished with my report just email me a request and I'll send you a leather bound copy.

Anyway, my flight took off out of Logan. I settled in with my carry on luggage, and opened up my work lap top (which I have dubbed the "Tank Top" because it's pretty much one of the first lap tops that was ever put on the market. It could muffle the strongest land mine I tell ya.) Anyway, with twenty minutes until boarding I looked around and surveyed my gate: an annoying girl on the phone, but that would be turned off once we were airborne, and a few spring breakers who looked too tired to function. Excellent. It's shaping up to be a child-free flight.

"DADDY! DADDY! HERE WE ARE!!! GATE TWENTY-FWEE!!!"

Fuck.

A herd of little Croc-clad feet stomped over to me. See I was sitting near the window and what better place to suction cup your little face to the germ infested glass.

"DADDY WHAT TIME DOES THE PLANE TAKE OFF?'

"In about a half an hour."

"DADDY WHY HAVEN'T THEY BOARDED US YET?"

"Because the plane isn't ready."

"DADDY WHEN WILL THE PLANE BE READY?"

"Soon."

"DADDY WHEN IS SOON?"

I was contemplating hailing a donkey for the ride down there.

Finally we boarded and like I did in this gem I snuck on the plane early with three carry-ons to boot so I could secure some overhead compartment space.

I was in a two-seater row. I was shellacked to the window and my row mate was about 6'8'' and was a spitting image of Robert Redford.

For real.

As is my custom I passed out right before take off and continued to remain pretty much passed out the entire flight. Occasionally I'd wake up from the screaming child behind me or the family of six including four boys under the age of eight to the left of me, or I'd be rattled by the twin girls three rows behind me hollering and screaming about God knows what. Maybe Hannah Montana tickets were sold out. I don't know but how I managed to get any shut eye remains a mystery. God help my future children who are screaming to be changed and I'm sleeping soundly clutching a pillow with a DIVA sleep mask covering my face.

We began our descent to Orlando International. By this time I was kind of OK with the hooting and hollering. I mean, it was the first time these kids had seen Disney and I didn't want to be the Grinch That Stole Mickey. So I let it go. That and I heard one of the kids yell, "DADDY! I THINK I SEE THE FIELD WHERE THE RED SOX PLAY SPWING TWAINING!!!" My heart melted right there.

"Ladies and Gentlemen we are beginning our initial descent into Orlando International Airport. Please return your seats to their right position and make sure your tray tables are in their full and upright lock position. Please fasten your seat belts. At this time we ask you to discontinue the use of all electronic equipment..."

As the clan next to me whirled around and continued to bound around the plane I began to remove my iPod ear buds from my ear when a shadow was cast over me and Robert Redford.

I looked up and it was a Stewardess who was waggling her finger at me. She then made the slicing motion across her neck and goes, "YOU HAVE TO TURN THAT OFF! WE'RE LANDING."

I stared at her, then looked from her to the family treating the Boeing 737 like a jungle gym and then back to her."

"Ok. Yes. I'm turning it off right now."

I glanced over at Robert Redford who was looking at me.

"Geesh!" he replied.

"Effing Brutal!"

As our flight twisted and turned in the air I welcomed the swampy heat of Florida, anything to get off of this plane.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!!! AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!! (insert more blood curddling screams) THE PLANE IS TIPPING! IT'S TIPPING. WE'RE GONNA DIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIE! WE'RE GONNA DIE!!!"

I looked over and indeed it was my six year old travel companion to my left. The parents were too weary to deal with their brood and simply told whatever his name was to be quiet and that we were not going to die.

Um. The kid is six and the plan looks like it's about to nose dive into a warehouse below. Maybe explan why we're not going to die and that it's just how a plane lands? Honestly, at that point I had twenty years on the kid and even I was feeling nervous.

Finally. Touchdown.

After mowing down the family next to me to get my bag first, ("Have a great time!" was what the wife called out after me, a little too snotty for my liking, as I hustled down the aisle of the plane and nearly rolling over one of her children), I made my way to find a taxi. Now, raise your hand if you've ever been in the Orlando International Airport. It's a little confusing no? Especially when you're sweating and carrying three bags plus a huge winter coat (why I didn't stuff it in my suitcase is still troubling me today). I finally found the elevator to go down to the taxi stand. As I shuffled my way to the line-free stand, I noticed a guy walking to the line. I arrived a few seconds after him and the taxi lady who gets you the taxi (what is the proper name for this job? It's on the tip of my tongue...merrrr...) handed him his receipt and I sidled up and said, "Royal Plaza Hotel." The guy who was just in front of me turned around, spread his arms out and goes, "I'm going there too."

"Ok..."

"Do you want to share a cab?"

I surveyed the guy. He looked like Doug Savant:

was wearing jeans, a white button down a tie and a blazer. Totally from New York and works for a big company.

We hopped in the cab and off we were to the Royal Plaza Hotel.

I spoke first, "So are you here for the packaging conference?"

"Yes."

"Where do you live?"

"New York."

"And who do you work for?"

"A big company."

Well there you have it.

Doug Savant and I rode the twenty-five miles to our hotel located in Downtown Disney and I briefly remember rambling on and on about how I always forget my car keys. Which isn't even entirely true. I've lost them like twice and I found them under a pile of bras and tights so I don't who slipped me the "awkward conversation starter" pill but I got it in abundance that night.

I checked in before him so we shook hands and I hauled myself into the elevator. Being an all mirrored apparatus, I was able to see that I looked like hell and a half and actually yelped when I saw my own reflection.

Part II: Days Two and Three coming right up after a few words from my sponsors (up and to the left).

Here I am!!!

Hi guys! Sorry I've been MIA. I've actually been in Florida attending a packaging conference. Oh yeah, I was nerding out big time with my fellow packaging colleagues.

Naturally I have stories and they'll be coming to you via YGIU tomorrow.

But right now I smell and I need to do a serious mask on my face.

So have a good night and TGIF tomorrow!!

Xo

Airport Observations...the best kind.

So I was in Baltimore this past weekend visiting Zing, the bride-to-be. Considering her wedding was planned a week after she got engaged there really isn't that much left to do on her end. Basically it now comes down to me to plan the party stuff. Which I'm completely cool with and quite frankly can't wait to get down to business!

The weekend actually isn't what I'm blogging about. We had fun. We shopped and I punished H&M. Jen got me up at 8:30 this morning which was lovely considering our 1a.m. lights out. It was relaxing and low-key and as my sister said, "I think its nice that you and Jen visit each other." So there you go.

What I am going to comment on are my two flights.

Boston to Baltimore

Now. When I travel I am not really a carry-on type of gal. I usually check my luggage. Not because I can't fit 3oz bottles into a zip lock bag the size of a coaster but because I am that person who brings her entire wardrobe with her. Or should I say USED to be that person. That's right folks. I actually brought a carry on suitcase for my entire weekend in Bmore.

My flight was scheduled to take off at 4:30 on Friday and at noon I found out that it was delayed by one hour. So everything got moved to 5:30. No problem. I arrived at Logan and began my walk down to the Air Tran terminal. But not before totally wiping out in the middle of the United Air ticketing counter. Oh yeah. I totally ate it as I was trying to walk in my very smart outfit with my very smart boots and my carry on luggage. I landed in a sort of kneeling position so if one were to look at me it would appear as if I was about to propose to someone. As I hoisted myself up off the floor, right knee throbbing, I realized that no one came over to see if I was OK. Some touristy woman hollered, "YA ALRIGHT??" but that was it. Where's the sympathy? Where, I ask, is the love? DON'T THEY KNOW WHO I AM??!!!

I continued to security. I handed the guy my boarding pass and ID. He regarded it for a second and then his squirrelly looking cohort came over and took my license in his hand.

"Oh look. It's Lisa."

Uuuuuh...

The squirrelly one then continued, "Born in 1981!" he exclaimed while shoving my ID in the other guys face.

"Um. Yup. That's me."

The original security guy I handed my boarding pass over to then looked at the cohort and said, "Yup. That's her," and handed me back my pass and ID.

Odd. I didn't know whether to stay where I was and let TSA drag me away or to just continue. Obviously I continued.

I proceeded on up to my gate where there was no where to sit. Sweet. This flight was going to be packed tighter than a crabs asshole. I squeezed between a man who looked like the Unibomber and another dude who looked like A-Rod's really ugly brother. And it always amazes me how miserable people are when their flight is delayed. It really shows how little you travel when you flip the fuck out because your flight is delayed a half an hour.

Try being delayed for four hours at Logan waiting for a flight to take you to the most awful place on earth (Las Vegas). A half hour is a cake walk.

This is where the Carry On vs. Checked Luggage debate comes in.

The classy Air Tran boards by Zone and I was in Zone 6; the second to last row to board. Now mind you I am not a seasoned carry-on traveler so I didn't realize that once I got on the plane there would be no where for me to put my luggage. What is wrong with people?! Do they find it necessary to put their jacket up in the overhead? Put it on your lap you idiot. And what's with the luggage all willy-nilly?? I had to physically remove the contents of the overhead, two rows down from me to fit my bag and the rest of the belongings in there.

The upside of my flight there was that I was seated next to a really really skinny girl who slept the entire time and shellacked herself to the window.  So I was free to  wave my arms and legs around like a  wild Octopus. 

Oh and I did notice that the guy sitting in the row that had my luggage was super hot. Married but hot none the less and we kept making eyes. When we landed I gave him my best smile and said, "Can you do me a favor?"

He inched forward like I was going to ask for his number, or if he was really.

"Can you grab my bag? The red one on the right. Thanks."

Baltimore to Boston

Well my flight started off being a half hour delayed. Meh. No problem. I was really OK with it because it allowed me to hang out with Jen longer and watch  "My Big Redneck Wedding" on CMT.

After arriving at BWI and pulling up a prime spot on the floor I began to people watch: a cute guy sitting on his luggage, two couples who were on the plane with me coming down here, heading back to Boston, the creepy guy who walked around with just a book and no other belongings.

Then the guy announced that our inbound air craft had landed and we'd be leaving on time. *Yahooooo!!!*

I meandered my way up to the front. I had the unfortunate luck of being in Zone 6 again and I was not succumbing to the same dubious bag fate that I did on the flight down here. I was going to be a renegade. I was going to sneak on early and with three carry-ons to boot!

"Ladies and gentleman I have some unfortunate news. Due to weather Boston is only landing planes on one runway so we won't be taking off until at least 7p.m. tonight."

Sweet. I went to Hudson News and got some pretzels and rag mags and posted up at the terminal next to a blind girl.

Can I just say how annoying high school kids are? Like, goddamn they are so effing annoying! The don't shut up, they're loud and they snap their gum with such ferocity you'd think they were training for Beijing '08. (I know I have some HS readers out there. Please don't be offended, but maybe take what this older sage has to say and think about it. Us foggies need our quite time.)

As many of my friends know, when I am severely displeased with someone or something I stare and I give a look that is indescribable (if I had a camera phone I'd take a pic for you. But let's not bring that up.). In any case I was giving these teens the stink eye big time. But it didn't stop one of them from coming up to me and asking me if I wanted to play spoons.

"Huh?"

"Spoons! You wanna play?" She stared me eagerly, her double pierced ears and slight acne urging me to play what I'm sure was once a game for the times when we did not have electricity.

"No. I don't want to play spoons. But thanks." I went back to tapping away on my non-camera phoned Blackberry. Shockingly enough the game was fucking annoying and I had to move with all of my luggage to another area of the terminal. Thank god we boarded shortly after. Boston had decided to let us poor plebs in Baltimore get home. Weather and gale-force winds be damned.

So my boarding goes a little something like this: The guy called Zones 2 & 3. Me being the stealthy ninja I am, slide in line, and covered up the Zone on my ticket with my finger. He scanned it and off I went. Holler. Plenty of carry-on space to spare. Except. Oh dear. My luggage won't fit. It's bowing out too much.

Fuck.

The girl behind me is trying to help me but I just kind of bark at her to go by. I try to wedge my suitcase up above but it's not happening. In my rage I sort of shout out, "IT FIT ON THE WAY DOWN!!!" to no one in particular.

I yank it back out and in doing so take a HUGE chunk of skin out of my right pinkie.

"AAAARMMMMMMMMASDLALDJKSFLFKJALDFJSDFJRRRRGHHHHHHHOUCH!!"

My hand was seriously dripping blood. Again. No one was concerned that I was staining the cabin with my own blood.

Somehow I got the suitcase to fit and I plopped down. No sooner had I taken my seat that my row companion shuffled along. A woman in her mid-60's who waggled her finger at me alerting me to the fact that I needed to get up so she could get to her window seat.

She shimmied her way in and started to blow up her balloon pillow.

Honestly. It's a 55 minute flight. You really need your pillow for this? God some people are just so not hardcore.

The final piece in our row 20 jig-saw puzzle arrived. A tall German dude. Poor guy. Had to sit in the middle seat. If I didn't hate my arms so much I might have switched with him but that's what you get for not changing your seat online.

My finger hurt like a son-of-a-bitch. Even with the Band-Aid and Neosporin I wrapped it in. (Yeah. I carry those things with me. So If you ever pinch your pinkie you know who to call.)

We prepared for take off. Now here's something I realized recently about myself. I pass the fuck OUT during take off. I don't know what it is but I am like a coma patient the second that plan starts to back away from the gate and it doesn't matter the time of day.  Unfortunately my body is not aware that I have people directly next to me so I'm totally the person who's legs encroach on your already limited personal plane space. Or you'll look over and my mouth will be hanging wide open as I mouth breath on you.

Sorry.

In any case the German wasn't that thrilled about me being his row mate since I basically was salivating on him. But he got his revenge via annoying row woman sitting by the window.

You know how people read magazines and they flip the pages to get to the next part of the story? Yeah, this woman was basically the volleyball player of magazine reading. She'd lick her finger, serve the page up with a little push, sort of like what a volley ball player does during a serve, and then she'd THWACK it over, much like the server does to get the ball over the net. The noise was so intense and so loud and it literally sounded like grenades were being launched at my head.

*swish* *SWACK!*
*swish* *SWACK!*
*swish*.......(oh I think I'll read this article for a bit) *SWACK!!!*

And she was reading the SkyMall Magazine. Like that periodical that they keep on planes in case you feel like purchasing a recliner at 34,000 feet. She read the thing like front to back four times. I tried giving her the stink eye too but she had on the Bose-noise control-spaceship-400 horse power-built Ford tough-as expensive as a down payment on a house-headphones so nothing was getting to her.

After a bumpy ride and a few wobbly-wobblerson's mid-air, we finally landed and I was prepared to jump out of my seat and get my luggage first. But not before the old lady next to me shoved me back into my seat so she could retrieve her attache case. I elbowed granny and finally was able to stand up straight. I had on my new faux emerald ring from Forever 21. The woman who was sitting behind me goes, "Oh your ring is LOVELY! What....what stone is that?"

I looked at her and said, "Fake."

Honestly. Yes, from far away it looks like an Emerald but do you really think I'm wearing an Emerald ring the size of a dinner plate on Air Tran? In coach?

Come on.

The time finally came for me to grab my carry-on.

Oh dear. It was stuck. Uuuuh....I tugged a little harder at it. It wasn't moving.

Great. People were starting to get aggravated and I started to sweat. Damn it. I looked at the German who was not about to offer any help.

Prick.

Finally I got it out. I sat it down in the aisle so I could rearrange my other carry-ons. In doing so my suitcase fell backwards and landed on the German, who made no attempt to pick it up for me.

I reached down to grab my bag and then looked the German in the eye. "Thanks for the help, but really. I got it." And sped off.

I don't really understand why I don't qualify for the damsel in distress assistance from people. I see other girls who drop their lip gloss and someone is right there to get it for them. I fall on my face, sever my pinkie off and nearly rip the door to the overhead off and no one bats and eye lash.

Until my next flight...

Vegas check list

I've arrived in Vegas aka: the tackiest, yet can't get enough of it, place on the planet. Digs are MGM Grand. Local time is 12:40a.m. The time blaring on my lap top reminding me that I really should go to bed is 3:41a.m.

Merrrr....

Now, it's not a Lisa tale without a little dramatic flare is it? Here we go:

• 2,000,376.343,555 degree weather: check
• A twenty minute walk in front of seven drunk twenty-one year old guys because I couldn't find my room: check
• 500lb lady sitting in front of me on plane: check
• 500lb lady sitting next to me on plane: check
• 500lb guy sitting behind me on plane: check (they must have been a package deal
• Screaming baby one row over: check.
• Absence of any drugs for me to take on the plane: check

I've only been here for not even a full two hours and my burning desire to come back to Boston is scorching a hole in my bed linens. And I'm wired. I'm wired but I know I need to go to bed. I guess Vegas will do that to you. I thought about pimping around down at the casino. Maybe engage in a little computerized Black Jack. See if I can double down and win like 20 bucks. But as I passed through the casino to get to the (wrong) elevator I got a glimpse at some of the folks engaged in the night life. A steady range of under 21 year olds dressed in wife beaters serving as dresses all the way to 50 year olds with mullets wearing leather chaps and above the knee black jean shorts and Tevas.

Is it Tuesday yet?