Up, Up and Away....The ESL Squirrels Are On Attack.

Yesterday I was the hero of the flight. Our simulated flight hit volcanic ash at 35,000 ft and all 4 engines on the Airbus 340 cut out. The drama….Us in the cabin had to prepare the passengers for a possible ditching in the ocean. Putting on life vests, moving people to unmanned exits and briefing them on what to do, briefing the blind passenger, briefing the hearing impaired passenger, looking after the kids. The cocks in the pit (actually there was a cunt up there so now what do I call it?) were able to re-start the engines and the power came back. They could not see out the flight deck windows as they were covered in ash and they had to let silicone sally land the plane. We eventually landed and then had to evacuate the simulator. It was all terribly exciting. I needed a cigarette afterwards to calm my nerves but instead we got dragged to a classroom for a debriefing of the simulation. I was commended for my passenger briefings and my oral abilities to shout at people. I’m such a fucking star it kills me. This year, the training was all about life vests so I think I’ll have fun with some on the plane tomorrow and take some pictures….

After the training I went to TorontoBoi’s house for a coffee. His head squirrels tend to act up over the holiday season and today they seemed to have magically turned into beavers – with big tails. You see, he met this guy (ESL – English Second Language), they dated and they broke up and then became good friends. Now he’s totally in love with ESL. When his ESL comes over they snuggle on the couch together and sleep together but do not touch one another. No slap and tickle..nothing…nada. He has not idea about ELS’s feelings as ESL can’t understand English and just nods. (joking). Really though, ESL tends to just agree to things instead of voicing his opinion so how do we find out if ESL loves TorontoBoi?…the drama.

TorontoBoi is looking for a place to live and is having trouble finding the palace that he deserves downtown. It’s all too expensive and he refuses to live in the closet once again. The topic of “Suburban-Urban” neighbourhoods came up and we both agree that Bloor West village fits that criteria. It’s got the restaurants, the shopping, the aesthetician, the yoga studios, starbucks, liquor stores, fine food stores, etc. No night life so one would have to ride the Bloor vomit comet to the downtown core to see any action. This is my stomping ground and we both agreed that it’s much nicer then living in the gay-ghetto.

We discussed my relationship and the fact that I’ve seemed to have settled down. My squirrels are hibernating and rarely peek their heads out lately. We both agreed that the funeral of my close friend’s partner sent me into orbit and made me withdrawal a bit into protective mode. It made me realize that what I have is amazing. I love my partner, and he loves me. I don’t want to loose him. We live a great life together and I really cherish what the two of us have built. What more could someone ask for? Sure – I’m still having issues with the sexual attraction part of our relationship but I think I can work through this. The foreplay is boring and I know every trick in his bag so I find myself thinking about knitting or something to pass the time until the real action begins. I hear this is normal for couples that have been together as long as us (working on 12 years now). I know why I had my one or 2 extracurricular activities as Dr. Melfi helped me uncover these in therapy. I’m beginning to live my life the way I want to, and always being considerate to my partner’s feelings and the way he chooses to live his life. I will no longer project my feelings on him. I will not feel bad that he chooses to stay at home while I choose to go wiggle my bootie in the ghetto. I will strive maintain an equal balance of "us" and "me" in our relationship.

Tomorrow I’m off for a LAXative layover on Saturday and SFO layover on Sunday. My shopping date backed out on me so I’m off to shop on my own in Frisco. BOOO!

Here’s my flight Schedule for those of you that like to track my silver bird as I jet across the continent a few times:

Saturday – AC791 YYZ-LAX A321 service (Toronto to Los Angles)
(there had better be some celeb on this one for me to haunt)

layover 18 hours

Sunday – AC575 LAX-YVR A319 service (Los Angles to Vancouver)
AC545 YVR-SFO A319 service (Vancouver to San Francisco)

Layover for 16 hours

Monday AC758 SFO – YYZ A319 service (San Francisco to Toronto)
AC826 YYZ-BOS A320 service (Toronto to Boston)
AC827 BOS-YYZ A320 service (Boston to Toronto)

Sissy Will Save You Life

Today and tomorrow I am in my annual recurrent training. This is the annual two days of written exams on the emergency procedures of the different aircraft types in our fleet as well as simulated emergencies and evacuations in our cabin simulator. It moves to simulate flight conditions like take off, turbulence and crash landings. It gives me motion sickness and it's not equipped with logo laden barf bags. We have to do this to maintain our qualification certificates that allow us to work as air crew. Fail it and its back to 6 weeks of training at the academy like a newbie?Only your much older and you don?t quite fit in.

Today I wrote all the exams. Tomorrow I have to spend half the day in the room with the pilots trying to improve the communication between the cocks in the pit and the space waitresses in the back. Since they installed the bank vault door to the flight deck, our communication to flight has fizzed down to what they take in their coffee and when do they want to eat.

Apparently, they have no idea what we do in the back during an emergency and frankly, we know nothing about what they would be doing. In an emergency, I can expect the luggage in the back, who have been treating me like shit for the last 6 hours, to actually listen to what I say and rely on me for something more then a disapproving frown and a glass (not a can - we're bankrupt) of coke. After the announcement is made that we are all going to die, I'll casually stroll up the aisle and pat them on the head and tell them everything will be ok. I'll make my way to the back of the plane and lock myself in the bathroom to clean up my tear smudged mascara, put on some hair spray, grab my cell from my crew bag and pull and E.T. to say our planned "I love you" good bye forever conversation my partner. I'll straighten my hoop skirt and emerge looking fabulous with hair that would survive an Airport 71 landing. I will calmly tell you all how to save your asses and do that little demo that you've all paid big $$ for but never get to see. But this demo is the academy award winning demo. While we are doing all this, the boys up front will be pushing buttons and pulling on things while computers yell at them.

If we crash and they cocks make an announcement for us to get the hell out then I get that once in a life time chance to scream obscenities at the passengers and not get fired. FANTASTIC I say...and I'll look fabulous on the evening news with a little scrape on my left cheek and a tear in my uniform on my right arm. A hunky Farrell like passenger will immediately air after my interview commenting on how I saved his life. All this glory because of my ice mist, my calm & collected personality and a little waterproof mascara...oh..and my training.

Here are some of the things I get to yell out:

Bend over!
Grab your ankles!
Keep your head down!
Cum this way!
You! Go to the bottom...Pull people off!

I've practiced this with tricks my partner several times and I've successfully cleared my hotel room our bedroom in a matter of seconds. My instructors would be so proud of me.

By the way...if you are evacuating and freeze at the door in fear of jumping down the slide, I get to kick you in the knees or push you out. Why can't every arrival be like that?

I've got a potential shopping date in Frisco on Sunday (I'll bring my camera) but apparently I'm on my own in LA for coffee martinis...What's up with that?

Bottoms Up

Sunday night was going to be my night to be the star of the show. I was going tie my shoes for the second time, reinforcing my love for my partner. He was going to be so happy. I was going to put him in a place that he has only dreamed about before, the kind of place found only in Falcon videos.

It’s only been a little more then two week since I lost my virginity. As it turned out, it was nowhere near as horrible as I thought it would be. Just the thought of having a pork loin shoved up my tiny dimpled hoo hoo made me want to grab my teddy bear and run to my mothers bedside. The mixture of Mexican Margaritas and a lot of lube helped me loosen my inhibitions while on vacation.

Looking back, in a way I feel I was victim to the catholic school girl syndrome. All the public school girls were doing it and it seemed to be all the rage. Maybe I should give it a go? Truth be told that in our relationship, I am still the one who wears the pants. My partner prefers to be the passive one and I the aggressor. Sure, I can be as nelly as the next one at times but at the end of last call, I’m the bull looking for a cow.

All day Sunday I was stressing over how to prepare myself for the big W.B. Sunday Night Super Special. I never told my partner that this was my plan. I did not wan him to be disappointed if my valium did not kick in and I decided to call it a wrap before the shooting was done. After we finished the opening scene I was relieved to feel my partner was rubbing his bubble against my groin indicating that it needed to be pricked. How was I supposed to know that he was in the other bathroom prepping at the same time as me?

At the end of the evening, after he took it with my sincerest blessing, I went to bed still feeling like the hunk off beef that I am. Sure, geist put me in my place after I fell asleep but at least I knew that I’m not you typical versatile guy. I do what I have to do to eat and that’s it.

Thinking about it all now, I do realize that it’s really the bottom, of the passive that’s the star of the show, the one wearing the pants. I’m just the director. I am even more now concerned about out latest communication glitch because of what could have happened. What if I was really ready to give him some and so was he? We both be in the bedroom rubbing our buts together trying to ignite a fire with no wood. What would happen if I really did like being the bottom? Would we be end up being a double bubble couple always fighting over the dildo? Who knows…..

I’m in L.A. on Saturday night and San Francisco on Sunday night. E-Mail me if you want to take me shopping and by me coffee. :)
I’d appreciate a good laugh with a reader.

Geist is Under My Bed!

The staff party that my partner and I threw on Friday night was a hit. Between the 100% paid vacations awarded to staff that have been loyal to us for 5 or more years and Christmas bonus cheques I felt like the big ol' red. No out of hand drinking by the junior staff this year which also meant that I did not spend my Friday evening on my hands and knees cleaning up the horror film of a ladies bathroom like last year.

Saturday night my partner and I ventured back to the motherland where I grew up to socialize with my high school friends. I had a fantastic time. My partner, along with the other partners sat bored to tears listening to the same stories and jokes for the 100th time. The group of friends that I grew up with dished and reminisced the evening away...pleasantly forgetting about our spouses and kids. Such a short vacation it turned out to be.

When I was growing up I was bullied to no end in public school. In high school I was a star. My group of friends were pretty mean to some other kids and we all agreed that we feel bad about it now. Especially after being reminded that 15 years after we graduated that some of them still remember....

So my partner and I head off to the grocery store in Dundas to pick up the chips for the little get together. Nothing special there except that the aisles were like a runway show for wall mart fashion show. It was making me sick and giving me small town flashbacks. We are at the check out counter and sure enough, the check out girl is "geist", and she remembered me.

Now geist was not a pretty girl and her parents dressed her funny. She would walk the hall's of the school endlessly during every break. Never stopping to talk to anyone, to eat, to relax or study. She always had a long white dress on, flowing with the wind she created as she traversed the halls. Back and forth. Around and around the circle shaped school we went to. I would get dizzy watching her. This is why she was called "geist" - short for "Poltergeist". She was of Italian decent and had long tangled black hair. Her face was covered in acne and it looked very painful. The worst part of it all was that in class, she would sit at the front of the room and when she was bored she would pick her nose and roll the little meatballs around between her fingers, look at them and then eat them. She knew she had this disgusting habit because we would all make noises and laugh at her. "Snack time!" "Yummy - how do the dust bunnies taste today geist?" "Hey geist - pop a zit for some sauce on that meatball would ya?" She was the brunt of everyone's jokes and she actually made my day at times as I would laugh so hard my stomach hurt.

I remember when we spotter her working at the local Mc Donald's. Gave a whole new meaning to chicken mc nuggets. Need I say that we avoided her line at the cash register.

Well on Saturday she got me back. We were at the check out line and there she was. She was smiling and chatting with the other patrons as she scanned their items. When I got in front of her she looked up at me with a smile and then she frowned. She did not say a word. She picked up my chips and began to clumsily drop the bag on the ground, purposefully missing the scanner. She picked them up and grabbed them so hard, manipulating them like it was a bag pipe or something. Breaking EVERY ship in the bag. She literally threw them in the plastic bag and says to me "$2.57".

My giddy mode was ruined. She got me back, albeit in some small way, but it made me realize that we tormented this girl so bad that she has been scarred. Scarred mostly by the zits (and the poor thing still has them) but whatever -she was pissed and she took it out on my Fritos.

I just hung my head low and scurried out of the store, afraid that a fireball would be heading it's way towards my back as I walked out the door.

We all had a good laugh over this back at the party. lots of beverages and good times.

That evening I had a horrible nightmare of her holding my cat over the edge of the balcony and taunting me. She let go of my Zulu and I see her falling to her death. 15 floors. I woke up with cold beer sweats. I have a poltergeist in my room and I know she's hiding under my bed.