Stephan Pastis's Blog, page 28

A Report From the Front

Got to fly in a Blackhawk helicopter over country X yesterday.

All was okay until the gunner on my left opened fire, followed by the gunner on my right.

This was unusual for me because on most of my prior commercial  flights, no one has shot .50 caliber machine guns.

The good news is I did not cry like a little girl.

I did, however, scream like a little girl, which is much different.

Jeff Keane ("Family Circus") was also in the helicopter.   I was significantly braver than he was.

My Priorities in the Middle East

Spent all day lying in the sun at the edge of the Persian Gulf.  Was going to solve all of the Middle East's problems, but decided to get a tan instead. 

Tomorrow I go to a new country.  I'd like to name it, but I'm not allowed to identify it until I get back home.   I'm like James Bond, but without the nice car.  Or fancy clothes.  Or hot women.  Instead, I'm with a bunch of pudgy, middle-age cartoonists.   

Stay tuned.

I Will Solve Everything

I'm in Germany on my way to the Persian Gulf.  I'm going to settle all of the problems there.  Will let you know how it goes.

B & B Bliss: The Conclusion.

With wasps everywhere, we had no choice but to run inside and shut the doors.  It's odd but pool time can really be affected by 300 wasps.

With the doors closed, the 102 degree room was now even more comfortable.

We drank warm beer and stared at the walls.

Eventually, with nothing to do and nowhere to go, we went to bed.

That's when we heard the scratching.

Above our head was what looked like a rain gutter.  It ran just below the ceiling around the entire perimeter of the room.  Inside it were...

I Came, I Saw, I Made This Week's Edition of Reader Mail

We take a short break from the B & B saga for this week's edition of REEEEADER MAILLLLL.

Just click HERE.

My Wife's Idea of a Vacation, or, The Horror, The Horror: Part II

We arrived at the Bed and Breakfast.  It was an old Victorian house.  It was dusty and creaky and crumbling.  A review of it on Expedia would read like this:

"Crap."

There was no one inside.  Just a big statue of an elephant.  Not sure what that had to do with a Bed and Breakfast in the wine country, a place not renowned for its elephants, but I had bigger problems.

Like why had I paid $300 to be in the house from Psycho.

Staci looked over at me.

"What should we do?" she said.

"Steal the elephant...

My Wife's Idea of a Vacation, or, The Horror, The Horror: Part I

Staci made me go to a Bed and Breakfast.

For those of you who think a Bed and Breakfast is a quaint little 19th century abode where you drink lemonade on the veranda, let me give you a more apt description of what it is:

Some shithead's house.

If you want to know what the experience is like but perhaps can't afford it, just walk across the street to your neighbor's house, hand him $300 and sleep in one of his spare bedrooms.

If that isn't evocative enough for you, consider this:  You share a...

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They will make you more popular with women.**

They will make you more popular with men.***

They will ensure advancement in the workplace.****

They will make you smarter.*****

They will help you lose weight.******

They will help you live a happier, healthier, more productive life.*******

And men, they will even enlarge your you-know-what.********

All from two calendars.  All absolutely-guaranteed.*********

Can the calendar you bought last year make that guarantee?

I suspect not.

So buy the...

I Take On the Weirdos, So You Don't Have To

I was waiting at a stoplight this morning when a yellow Corvette pulled up alongside me.

I looked at the driver.  He was an older guy.  Bald.

I didn't like him.

Something about his olderness combined with his baldiness and his Corvettedness just screamed "weirdo."

So I put my car in park and revved the engine.

Which roared with all the screaming fury that one could expect of  a four-cylinder Honda Accord with a child seat in the back.

When the light turned green, I popped the engine into gear and...

My Depression, and the Grocery Stores that Cause It

A democracy is only as strong as it's people are smart.

And that's why grocery shopping depresses me.

You see, Staci hands me a big list every Sunday and I go and get the things on the list.  I view it as a scavenger hunt, so that part's not depressing.

The depressing part is the checkout stand.

I don't know much about retail, but I know that the area immediately adjacent to the register is the most valuable real estate in the store, because that is where people make their impulse buys.  So...