En Route To The Cloud

In a desperate attempt to not lose readership, I'm going to head back to the shitty, scum covered roots of the blog and write like that illiterate twat that I was before I returned to the blog in January and post something I came up with in 2 minutes. I call this type of post ; 2 minute poop posts.

We are currently en route to the lesbian cloud and a rant is necessary to pass the time on this mighty voyage. And this seems the best thing to do because they're showing that crappy Julia Roberts - Richard Gere movie on the plane and I would rather take the plastic forks in the economy class meals and gouge my eyes out while screaming the lyrics to "Bohemian Rhapsody" rather than watch that movie.

Being owners of shitty computers, our only method of passing time is to go to our rich friends houses and play Halo on their huge TVs and multiple gaming systems. This doesn't make us bad people. My computer system can hardly run Hitman 2 and I can't even get to the 4th level. Bad Ideas' computer is also shitty but he has finished Hitman 2 so his life has now lost all purpose. Sad, aren't we?

Economy class is to put quite simply an opportunity to sympathize with bombers. More than wanting to please their imaginary friend called God, they were probably just more pissed off with the crap food. ( Yes I am hoping to get hate comments from this reminding me of the evil I am relating with). I luckily have the aisle seat so I can get up whenever I want. Bad Ideas has window seat so he can stare at the clouds outside and randomly yell at the ones he doesn't like. We have a fat Albanian women in the middle. Somehow she has managed to have her side lard cross over the seat divider and steal half my seat. Like I said, the movie on the plane isn't much distraction. They ran out of peanuts because the Albanian took 20. I'm wondering how the plane is still up in the air with this earthquake-causing fatass (check the footnote as well) on board.

This brings me to one of my favourite stories I like to tell. This did actually happen to me (That Guy) a couple years ago. It was when I went to Cuba. On the way back, I was spending a week in Paris with my dad. The Indians had refused him a visa because he was dissin' them at a UN conference so he was coming back to Dhaka via Bahrain while I would go to Delhi from Paris and then Dhaka. As I went to check-in the stupid French people told me ( in their stupid annoying accent) that the plane was overbooked. I asked what I'm supposed to do to get back home (I am 15 in this story). The conversation that ensued was like this

Stupid French person: "Well, we can send you to Mumbai and you take the plane to Delhi from there".

Me : " My Indian visa expired. I can't go into the domestic airport"

SFP : "You can take the plane from Mumbai to Hong Kong. Then come back to Delhi"

Me (staring disbelievingly) : "What?"

SFP : "Or the plane to Hong Kong stops in Delhi. You can get off there"

Me : " Alright whatever."

As soon as I say this, SWAT teams rush in to the terminal and start evacuations because they found a bomb. Only in France. So they take this "bomb" and BLOW IT UP on the runway. (It was just a piece of luggage somebody left while they went to the toilet). I run to the boarding gate. The person there is Indian- French. Bad combination. He says I'm too late. I say " Well there was a fucking bomb. Not really my fault". The guy seems sympathetic and says " Come with me. You can take the plane to Moscow and go to Delhi from there." I swear I'm not making this up.

Anyways, I went to Moscow. I had no winter clothes because I was coming from Cuba. And conveniently, it was -2 degrees in Moscow airport. After we land, they bring in heat sensors. Did I mention I had 102 degree fever and it was during Swine Flu craze? Well, I ran out of the plane like a crazy terrorist who needs the bathroom. Then froze for the next 3 hours before the plane to Delhi.

My hands hurt from typing this in a 2 minute limit. There was a few more points to the story that I can't be bothered to add. Comment or send me an email (email address is at the top of the blog right below the picture.) to hear the rest of it. Fat woman is trying to steal my dessert.