Mile High Club

This post isn’t about that mile-high club, but I was trying my hand at a little SEO.  How do you like them apples?

Moving right along; in the not too distant past, I had the occasion to travel by air, which means one thing: airports.   And that’s loaded.  I haven’t had a chance to brush up on airport scholarship in the latest issue of The American Journal of Sociology, but it doesn’t take a PhD and team of grad student slaves to prove that airports are a fascinating microcosm.  First, there’s the sketchy airport-lech: Bluetooth headset, check; blazer over t-shirt, check; Egg McMuffin, double check.  What is it with this wandering-eyed prototype?  Perhaps the anonymity that airports offer?

And then there’s Sky Mall, with its inviting offer emblazoned across the front cover:”FREE COPY – TAKE IT.  WE’LL REPLACE IT!” Done.  Because I wanted to share these nuggets with you, noble readers:


The Humane Society should use THIS in a campaign because now I want to get a cat just to warrant the purchase of this bad boy.

Because credit card debt is temporary, but your dog’s genealogy is forever.

I won’t lie.  I was unfamiliar with this homage to sloth until a few months ago; my friend Mary explained to me the phenomenon that is a Snuggie.  So incredulous was she of my lack of Snuggie awareness that she shared my naivete with a woman at the thesis review board.  They bonded over my apparent alien heritage.  But Sky Mall takes the Snuggie to the next level with The Slanket Siamese for Two.  I’m in.  Because Two for the Road Couch is a classic.

“This person is able to sleep comfortably in any seat!  Can you say the same?”  In fact I can.  It’s called Tylenol PM, and it’s sold over-the-counter at a drugstore near you.  Who is this guy, anyway?  Couldn’t they have gotten a washed-up supermodel for a spokesperson?  Janice Dickinson, perhaps?  Hell, even a reality TV star would be better than this poor dude.

At long last!  An incredibly tasteful planter that’s actually a … litter box?  And it’s in the “Value Emporium”! As if we couldn’t smell this elastomer monstrosity from the gated entrance to the subdivision.  “Wait, no, that stench is from the Paperwhites in the centerpiece…”  “A” for effort, though.

In conclusion, for my future wedding registry, let’s skip the Limoges and Lucite trays.  You know what’s up.

Aight.  Off to read the April InStyle that I pilfered from the recycle bin.

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