Friday, October 30, 2009

The Beverly Hillbilly

I swear the air just smells better in Southern California. Perhaps it's the mountains, or the nearby beaches, or perhaps it's all of the GREEN campaigning they do. Or maybe a combination of all three. All I know is I'm happy to be here and as long as I don't have to run into Al Gore's porky ass, I'm in hog heaven.
Hardy har har. I'm soooo punny (see how I did it again?)

Let's recap quite possibly the most stressful trip to California I've ever had.  I didn't leave the office until about an hour after I had planned to due to some unforeseen last minute things that really needed to be done before I ex-communicated from the world for 3 hours.
Between the time I left the office and drove the .6 miles home (yes, I drive .6 miles), I had about 5 more emails and when I looked up it was 3:00.
This would have been fine for my 4:50 flight had I been going straight to the airport, but I had to go to my parents' house to drop off my car, switch my 2 suitcases to one big suitcase (thanks American Airlines for the baggage fees), then have Mom drive from there.
I hit the road.
5 minutes down said road, I realize I never picked up my prescription from Kroger.
Turn around. Get said prescription. Wait behind ASSHOLE trying to turn left with a GIGANTIC no left turn sign. I'm not a big honker, but this guy got the wrath of Courtney.
(When not in a hurry, I often back up traffic turning left from this very spot)
Hypocrisy is the new black.

It's now 3:30.
Get to Southlake at 4.
Throw shit in my bag in the most wrinkle-friendly way possible.
Haul ass to DFW.
"We're cutting it pretty close, Court"
No. fucking. shit. Mom.
Arrive 4:25. Tell check-in my bag won't make it and to throw it on the next flight.
"Sorry miss, you are too late to do curbside check-in. Please go upstairs."
Mom is chatting it up with the attendant about how he looks like Emmitt Smith.
I give her a quick hug that was probably more like a half punch and run to the escalator.
Arrive upstairs, repeat entire fiasco and then have to take my own bag to the search station.
Uh, hello?! I'm LATE I'm LATE for a very important date!
Why has the white rabbit not introduced me to some secret portal that will get me through the airport more quickly?
Grandpa checking boarding passes and photo id at security is slower than molasses and it's 4:47 by the time I get through security.

I'm running  hauling serious ass down the terminal.
my shoes, jacket, and laptop are under my left arm, air-dried hair flapping behind me, and my carry on swinging from the right arm.
I looked like the family from Home Alone when they are running through the airport.

Then I see a line. For my flight. Delayed 20 minutes because of a problem with the airplane door. I just looked like an idiot for nothing. Nevermind the flight status TVs that said my flight was on time.
At least I had time to pee and buy a water. I didn't think to buy food.
We hit some turbulence, of course I didn't notice because my stomach was too busy attempting to eat itself.
Thank goodness there was a starbucks when I got off the plane so I could buy a tiny $9 sandwich before I waited another hour for my bag to arrive.

I've never been so happy to see a 60 pound bag roll around the carousel.
Head outside to catch the courtesy shuttle. It was like an episode of twilight zone.  There were mass amounts of people outside, but I was the only one on my shuttle.

The nice bus driver man helps me haul my bag onto the bus, considering it's half my body weight.
I realize 2 blocks from the hotel that I have NO cash
I spent my last 2 quarters on gumballs in the airport. Yes, I am 5 years old and I like gumballs.

Well this is just great.
I am the only one on the bus and I can't even tip him. I feel like such an asshole.
I yell thank you as I am running away into the hotel to hide, like a dog that knows it wasn't supposed to pee on the carpet but did it anyway.

Check in, get to bed, pass the F out. God, I'm tired!
I had meetings all day Thursday, but I did get to explore the hotel a teensy weensy bit!

Cute little soap and shampoo place mat was a crowd pleaser (I'm the crowd).
Then I encountered the pumpkin carving contest!! I love pumpkin carving.
Oh wait, I forgot that politics have taken over the world and we have to incorporate them into Halloween now.

At least the last one was neutral.
Though I wasn't particularly impressed with any of them.
I like scary jack 'o lanterns. Especially when they are carved while I am enjoying hot chocolate with peppermint schnapps and toasted pumpkin seeds.

I feel like I'm always talking about booze.
But it's because I like to talk about things I'm good at.
And I am good at boozing, running, and making sarcastic remarks.

Once my meetings were over, my friend Chelsea picked me up and we (gasp) boozed more.

Headed to R&D where I got some vodka, grape, basil muddled martini that was great with my seared tuna salad. Had those delicious pumpkin candy corns for dessert.

Candy corn is quite possibly one of my favorite inventions. Right up there with the dishwasher (which Chelsea's house doesn't have) and peanut butter (which Chelsea also doesn't have).
Hey, thanks for the sugar free oatmeal!
Nevermind the fact that I obviously need copious amounts of sugar to function.
I need my lucky charms.
Thank God you have candy corn so I don't DIE.

At least I could get hopped up on coffee.
Love me some French Roast (and candy corn).

If you were a candy corn, would you eat yourself?

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