Weight: x+18...I must be REALLY muscular right now, because other than one miniscule slice of paper-thin crust pizza that I ate last night, I have been a saint in the dieting world. This is clearly one of the greatest travesties of all time.
As I'll be making a whirlwind tour of the East Coast starting Saturday, I'm reflecting on what an excellent opportunity flights can be for finding wonderfully interesting eligible bachelors. I'll be taking a grand total of THREE flights, giving me THREE opportunities to sit next to a stud.
When picking my seat, I always consider which one will most likely have a singleton seated beside me. For instance, if it's a row of three, pick an aisle that only has the window seat full so far. Thus, you know you're not on a row with a married couple flying to their honeymoon. If possible, pick the most "normal" flight times - don't pick a red-eye when you'll be flying with business men rushing home to their families, etc. I do my best. But somehow, despite my efforts, I always wind up next to the smelly, fat, grandpa of a guy who wants to know if that's a script I'm reading so he can promptly pitch me an idea or talk about that one time he spotted a celebrity.
Will this be my lucky trip?
And yes, I know it's sad that all of this is only too true.