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Ok, I know, you are all pissed.  Get off my back.  I went on vacation.  One would think that going on vacation would allow me enough free time to keep the site updated.  Well, I will have you know that I only update this site while I am at work, so there.

So, as I said, I went on vacation.  You might think that since I live in a Middle Eastern desert paradise, that I would not need to go anywhere.  Let me tell you, 115 degree heat with wind gusts up to 50 mph may seem fun at first, but its wears thin quickly.  It's bad enough that you have to close your eyes when you go outside or risk getting sand in them.  What really worries me is I can't help but wonder how much of this dust I am actually ingesting.  I am sure tonight, when I take my scheduled 6pm dump, the experience will be slightly gritty.  At least I am regular.

Ok, back to the vacation.  I first traveled to Amsterdam, which is located in Dutchland, where I had a four hour layover.  I had never been to Amsterdam before, so I was excited, with all the marijuana and all.  I half expected there to be pot vending machines lining the walls.  Well, there wasn't, probably because of the temptation it posed to the pilots.  Damn pilots.

After I got over my disappointment, I realized that the Amsterdam airport (I think it is called Schiphol, actually, but it sounded like "ShitPole") was a normal European airport, with normal amount (roughly 98%) of weird Europeans in it.  I spent most of the time there in the business class lounge.  Why business class?  Well, when you maintain a hilariously satirical web site such as this one, the airlines automatically upgrade you to business class.  I know, I know, why not first class?  Well apparently the site is not popular enough.  After you are done reading this, I urge you to call the airlines and tell them about the site.  Do not do it for me, do it for satirical hilarity.

When it came time for me to board my plane, I went to the gate and noticed that the line there was a long one, stretching back further than I could see.  Just as I had given in to waiting at the end of the line like some commoner, an airline employee came up to me and said, "Mr. Goodmeat, you can step over here and we will take care of you."  At first I thought she recognized me from the website, but then I realized that she had seen the business class ticket I was holding.  She shuttled me to the front of the line and processed me through.  For a split second I felt guilty about cutting in front of the everyone waiting in the gargantuan line, but I quickly got over that.  They serve drinks in business class before you even take off you know, and I had to get me one of them shirley temples while they were still cold.

Soon I was on my way to Seattle, my next layover.  After a brisk 24,000 hour flight, I was on the ground at SEA-TAC Airport.  After waiting the requisite 19 hours for the people in front of me to gather their belongings from the overhead bins, I was on my way to my connecting flight.  One thing that never changes about American airports, is that everyone always bitches about the lines at the security checkpoints.  We are all aware of the changes made at airports since 9-11, I think now, almost 3 years later, we can get over it.  Apparently the perpetual bitching attitude runs rampant in Seattle (There you go Jackie, you were right, Seattle is the coolest!).  

All right, I don't mean to bitch to much about Seattle, but there is one more thing I need to get off my chest...

For some reason, in Seattle, the walking speed for airport patrons is no faster than .00064 mph.  They saunter along as if they are in a legless hippo parade.  This is frustrating to me.  I understand the hippo parade at the mall ("Ohhhh, Hot Topic"), or at the grocery store ("Ohhhh, head cheese), but at the airport?  Don't these people have someplace to be, like an airplane, or something?  Also, due to the confluence of walkman-type devices in this region,  these people cannot hear my impatient moans as I attempt to weave around them.  As we all know, Seattle is the home of Alternative Rock, or grunge.  Rock groups like Nirvana and Pearl Jam got their start here.  Seattleites are so proud of this, that they will not go anywhere without the ability to listen to their beloved grunge rock 24/7.  There are other, better things they could be proud of, such as Sir Mix-a-Lot (I like em round, and BIG!), or Rainier Beer.  

Sometimes I think the world is against me.  Think of how cool it would be if the Seattle-oids could let go of this un-natural crap-rock fascination and embrace the one-ness of west coast old skool rap combined with the 187th best selling beer in the world.  There would be no reason for walkmans, and with the walkmans gone, terrorism would undoubtedly go with it.  They could pipe Sir Mix-a-lot through the airport PA system and serve free Rainier beer on the concourses.  At least then there would be a reason for walking slowly.  Of course, the pilots would probably ruin it, they always do.  Damn pilots.

Legless hippos and drunk pilots aside, I finally got on a plane and flew to Portland Oregon.  I met up with my beloved wife and children and went home to have sex, with my wife. (It had been six months, get off my back)  After that, I slept for a while.  Not because I was tired and jet-lagged, but because I am a man and I had just had sex.  Don't blame me, it is a physiological fact that men get sleepy after sex.  To a man, sex is like turkey, and I am just following the rules.  You don't want to disobey Anatomicus, the god of physiology, if you do, you might just wake up one morning with man boobs, or as we say in the scientific world, chesticles.

Ok, I am tired, and in the interest of getting paid by the article, and since I am actually writing this while I am at work, I will end here.  Stay tuned, next week, sometime, I will tell you about the rest of my vacation.  Unless, of course, I eat some turkey and decide to take a nap.