So tired of airports

Do you watch the show "Criminal Minds"?  The goofy-gangly-slightly-attractive-because-you-could-snap-his-neck-with-a-pout guy, you know who I mean, a guy that looked JUST like him sat next to me on the plane.  

But the guy was 24 (I carded him.  Seriously- A guy basically called me a cougar in Indianapolis so now I am a *liar* and very careful.) He ranted on, (cocaine binge I suspect.  strongly suspect) about liberal politics, our awesome president and all that I hold dear.  He did not get the hint when I put in my earplugs and jammed The Who as loud as a human can.  He kept going like a coke-fueled Energizer bunny.  So, I agreed.  And argued.  And accepted drinks (I AM ONLY HUMAN) from a 24 year-old extra from the show First Blood.  Apparently, Anna Paquin is super hot and has a nude (not really) scene coming up. So stay tuned.  And, apparently, I smell like vanilla.  Which is odd because I flew into Denver from an undisclosed Midwestern location that stinks of diesel fuel and abandoned dreams.  (poetic license).  No, really, I lived in a Bruce Springsteen song for 17 years. Which is why I moved to a Kris Kristofferson song coupled Rolling Stones longing with some musical theater thrown in.  After that tired of me, I moved to an Eagles song with some ironic Elvis Costello.  Then some operatic wanderlust and Rolling Stones  and Carpenters took over.  Which is where I am today.  Except for Baba O'Reilly and Memory Motel.

testy