1.31.2007

TWISTED NEWS BREAK: Still Jumpy After All These Years

So, we all know it takes 22.3 years for a tragedy to be funny thanks to South Park. However, I find it somewhat funny that our post-9/11 sensibilities drove the good people of Boston to be scared shitless by a stupid and pointless guerilla marketing campaign, which, by definition, are always stupid and pointless (Advertising Lesson #107.2). Damn, Boston, Aqua Teen Hunger Force is one of the funniest shows on TV. Isn't there a single person in your city that has basic cable? I live in Kansas where people overwhelmingly believe Evolution is just an irrelevant and silly little theory, and the TV under my rock can get [Adult Swim]. I know the world is a much more dangerous place today than it has ever been, but what kind of dumbass is going to put an LED Mooninite on their bomb? My advice, check out Invader ZIM before NickToons puts up a billboard and you think Earth is being invaded.

posted by Jim at 9:54 PM | Comments (0)

1.20.2007

Aeronausiphobia 1:3-4

After clothes, there came the in-flight entertainment decisions. I always started with the most difficult. Do I take the laptop, undoubtedly making myself the uber-geek, or leave the laptop? This trip was going to be short, but that’s exactly how email piles up in your inbox.

“Honey, should I take the laptop?”

“No.”

Sally equated the laptop with the hundreds of gadgets I didn’t need but would go into a burning building to save.

“Your porn collection will be safe if you leave it at home, Phillip.”

“The porn collection is on the desktop.”

She let out a giggle. It wasn’t as if she hadn’t seen it or I tried to hide it deep on the hard drive. No password protection, it was even marked Porn. Of course, in that directory there are multiple complex categories and file structures immensely more detailed than the Amazon catalog. Names, positions, genre, it was as if I were the porn archivist for every perverted middle-aged man that trolled the Internet for the perfect twenty-something porn star wannabe.

My final decision was a journal and ballpoint pen that I rarely use given to me by close friends that would be traveling with us. I was going to regret this decision, of that I was sure, but Sally would have made it impossible to write had I taken the computer.

“Should I take the video camera? Sal, are you listening?”

I turned. She had on a tight black dress that put the porn collection to shame. Her long muscular legs begged to be wrapped around me. Her chest heaved underneath the stretched fabric. The edge of the skirt danced as she turned, exposing the tops of her legs and barely leaving her ass a mystery. I completely forgot my question. Thousands of dirty thoughts fucked each other in my head.

“When did you get that,” I tried not to let on that I was poised to attack.

“You think it’s cute?”

“Cute? Not really. Why don’t you dress like that more often?”

She had finally caught on to where I was going. “That’s what I thought,” she said coyly staring at my crotch.

* * *

The Captain came on the loudspeaker. “We may be experiencing a little bit of turbulence ahead. So, I’m going to turn back on the Fasten Seat Belts sign and ask everyone to head back to their seats.”

I watched the flight attendants continue their conference. None of them looked scared, but their looks scared me. Russell began to stir, but settled back into sleep again. Finally, the flight attendants adjourned and headed to their respective sections. I was tempted to ask, but a passenger three rows ahead stopped our attendant before she could get to me.

“Excuse me, is there a problem?”

“No ma’am. We’re just experiencing some minor technical problems.”

The crack in the right wing was widening ever so slightly. The wind, like a small boy and his first scab, picked at the crack. More rivets twisted and wiggled loose from the wing. A horrible scream came from the right side of the plane. But none of the passengers heard it over the confusion and questions that bombarded the flight attendants inside the cabin. I watched as they danced down the aisle trying to make everyone comfortable. Trying a little too hard to make everyone comfortable.

posted by Jim at 11:20 PM | Comments (0)

1.08.2007

Aeronausiphobia 1:1-2

The problem with unassigned seating is the “schoolyard factor.” If you’re late to the airport, you end up in the C seating group, thus you end up choosing from the seats no one else would sit in. Similar to beginning of every kickball game that ends with, “Okay, we’ll take Phillip.” Fat and slow is no way to go through life, and it’s definitely no way to fly.

The week leading up to this fantasy weekend was planned carefully. My projects at work would be finished the Friday before for two reasons. One, so I couldn’t be blamed for anything that went astray while I was gone, and two, so the three days leading up to my departure would be nothing but unadulterated daydreaming. There was also the long shot hope that if all the stars aligned in my favor, I would never have to return.

By Wednesday night, the only thing left to do was pack. Sally and I had two completely different ways of accomplishing the task at hand. She would try on everything she owned looking for the perfect combination of outfits that would attract the exact amount of attention or garner the most praise from our friends. She routinely dressed in more comfortable attire, but for this trip comfort was out and a cute ass or accentuated tits was in. It was a nice change of pace. Luckily for me, this was the way most women packed when traveling to Las Vegas. Needless to say, I was excited about the prospective eye-candy in addition to my wife’s newfound slutty form of self-expression.

The lingering thoughts of long legs, well-endowed chests and round asses dressed in mere fabric swatches helped me through my packing process. Of course, this consisted of my favorite game of Is This Clean? coupled with What Will the Weather Be Like? My look for Vegas quickly became what we are referring to now as Suburban Barbecue. All I needed was a Kiss the Chef apron and I could have been mistaken for Ward Cleaver on any summer Sunday.

* * *

It was ever so faint, but I could hear the cracking metal as the wind slammed against the body of flight #9776. The steel tube pulsed and rolled slightly. It was too dark for anyone inside to see the first rivet wiggling loose from the right wing. Just below the “Not a Step” decal, the wing exposed its first fracture. No bigger than an eyelash, it slithered across the wing matching the river that passed some 35,000 feet below. The brief flash of lightning exposed the danger just long enough for me to wonder what it was. The second rivet hit the window, waking me and my husband, who rolled over and went right back to sleep. I, however, saw the crack left in the window and began to get nervous. I scanned the plane anxiously looking for the flight crew. They were huddled in the service area whispering. I knew this wasn’t a good sign. I couldn’t read lips, but I swear I saw one of them say, “What do we tell the passengers?”

posted by Jim at 11:05 PM | Comments (0)

1.03.2007

2007: FINAL WARNING

CAUTION: The next post to Twistedjim.com will be the first installment of a serial story. It is a fictitious account of people with an abnormal fear, aeronausiphobia. Google it. I do not plan on posting my feelings, politics or mundane bullshit for at least a month. I hope you enjoy the story...

jim

posted by Jim at 11:54 PM | Comments (0)