Jonesy reviews "Spirit" - Southwest Airline’s Inflight Magazine

Like most everyone else... I get bubbly and excited when I know I'm about to get on an airplane. It's not because I know in just a few minutes I'm going to be stretched out in unbelievable comfort and breathing the fresh air flowing through your typical 737 cabin... but rather that I'm finally going to be reunited with the love of my life ... the periodical wonder that is "Spirit Magazine". The New Yorker can kiss my ass. THIS, my friends, is great writing. A literary blowjob for the brain. Let's get started...

(pg 23) - Hey, look at this! It's a list of America's Greatest Steakhouses! This is one of my favorite editorial pieces of all time. It's always good to know where I can get a decent ribeye next time I'm in Sandusky.

(pgs 27,28,34,46,55,58) - Did you know Las Vegas has hotels AND casinos???? As well as the budget to hijack an entire magazine with their advertisements? Seriously, who the FUCK is Danny Gans and why should I NOT want to kick his turtle-neck wearing ass?

(pg 65) - Great, some asshole has already started the crossword puzzle and in purple ink too. "famous Texas landmark". This jerkwad put down "SIX FLAGS".

(pg 78) - I'm glad to see that Ginger Ale has lasted this long on the drink list. It's an airline standard. It goes great with a $5 whiskey that comes the same size as a finger nail polish bottle.

So, that's about it for the interesting stuff. There were some article in there about time-shares and apple-picking in Michigan. But who really fucking cares?


Next week...

I review whatever document the guy sitting next to me has on his laptop. Looks like a sales report or something. He keeps catching me looking...

-Jonesy

Do you think the people at work notice that my shirt is 2 sizes too small?

Okay, so I recently moved apartments and of course during that process my entire laundry rhythm and routine got thrown way off its flightplan. So as the days go by and my laziness shows its ugly face... I'm left with very few clothing options for my daily life.

This morning I am rifling through boxes trying to find something ANYTHING that resembles a shirt. I find one. It kinda looks familiar but the mood is definitely awkward between us. Do I know you?

I confidently throw my arms into this baby. Not bad so far. I bring the two sides together ... uh oh. We're about 4-5 inches off target. As I'm pulling, stretching, and clawing ... I can literally hear the fabric fibers screaming as if being run through a medieval torture device. I'm sorry, little buddies.

I'm now on my bed. Tossing and turning with every ounce of power I can muster. Finally, I get the buttons to hold. Well, most of them. One button buckles under the torque and shoots across the room smashing a priceless ming vase from Target.

With the aid of a portable oxygen machine, I manage to catch my breath and make it downstairs to catch my bus. By this point things are going okay. The humidity is allowing for some decent stretchability. The folks on the bus don't seem to notice.

When I get to work ... things start getting a little hairy. Wouldn't you know it I forget that we have some very important clients in the office today. I spend a good deal of my morning just rolling around the office from the safety of my desk chair. Making every attempt not to stand up and display my attire that now has the comfort-level of Saran Wrap.

The rest of my day goes smoothly. Until at the very end when my boss asks me to run something across the street to the bank. Ugh! It would be a trip to the bank ... where the tellers are all gorgeous and who most likely prefer dudes that don't appear to get their clothing from Babys R Us.

After some lamaze breathing outside the bank... I'm soon able to take in enough oxygen to enter and make my transaction. I soon realize that keeping your gut sucked in for any period over two minutes will automatically require the use of every single muscle in your body. I smile at the cute teller and hand her my deposit slips. She makes small talk but I can only manage to smile and nod occasionally as I feel my face turning purple. My abdomen is now shaking uncontrollably in a epileptic rage as it fights to contain years of chicken wings and kool-aid. "OH MY GOD, lady, please stop talking so I can leave" is all I'm thinking at this point. Okay. Good-bye. Yes you have a good afternoon too...

Ahhhhhhh. I'm out the door. Free at last. My guy falls back into place like a sack of potatoes. I pause for a cigarette. Check my pockets....

FUUUUUUUUUCK. She forgot my deposit receipt....


-Jonesy