Thursday, March 23, 2006

Ovals

As part of his background check for the FAA, Josh The Pilot supplied my name as a reference, a severe lapse of judgement that should disqualify him outright.

My immense distrust of the federal government was confirmed when the recommendation forms arrived: They want me to take the SAT again. There are all these little ovals to fill in, and I deeply fear that if I do it wrong FAA will somehow retroactively revoke my admission to The Womb.

They’re horrible questions, and they make me do MATH:

1) How long have you known this person?

a. __years ____ months

b. I don’t know this person

I could very easily put “b”, because last weekend we were having a discussion about what a house should have, and I was expounding upon the fact that a good house should contain, at minimum, one room for ill-advised exercise equipment purchases, one room for writing, one room where I would do actual work, a washer and a dryer that do not involve slots for quarters or other people’s underwear, a wine cellar, free running space for a pet wombat, and two areas for crafting: one for a scrapbooking studio with tiny, tiny drawers for the 1.8 billion acid free cutouts currently stuffed in my closet, and one for a sewing room (assuming that at some point I can sew without puncturing a fingernail.) Also, a bowling alley.

And Josh The Pilot said, “Well, I want a pool table,” and I was like, “Which would make perfect sense, had I ever seen you pick up a pool cue IN MY ENTIRE LIFE.” And he said, “I LOVE pool!” and I was like, “Since when?” and he said “Since always! Pool is awesome!” and really… it was like I didn’t even know him.

The FAA would also like to know if I have “any adverse information about this person’s (a) employment, (b) residence, (c) activity concerning violations of the law, (d) financial integrity, (e) abuse of alcohol and/or drugs, (f) mental or emotional stability, or (g) general behavior or conduct.” Considering that he (a) WANTS to work with math… and people… and math people, (b) thinks living within five miles of a NASCAR track is a good thing, (c) forgets to put the seat down, (d) once spent actual American money on a copy of Independence Day (e) drinks white zin out of a bag, (f) is dating me, on purpose, and (g) once pointed at a trailer of The Shaggy Dog and said “That looks funny,” he better not stray into any of my Pissy Areas at any point in the near future.

I like steak, Josh.

landing on runway 4 at: mb@blondechampagne.com

11 comments:

joshthepilot said...

I LIKE my bag-o-wine!
And ladies, I DO put the seat down, so when MB is done with me, you can put me at the top of your list of potentials because I am thoughtful like that...
My next answer for vol III of Ask JTP is in the oven right now... stay tuned!

2xgtld said...

If it's any consolation, I was once put down as a federal reference by a crazy lesbian who was stalking me (long story). I was visited by the FBI, who kept asking questions like "Do you know if she's ever trafficked in drugs?"

My response: No, but she's crazy out of her mind and stalks people.

Feds: Uh, huh. Do you know if she knows anyone who has trafficked in drugs?

Me: No. But did I mention that she's crazy and unstable?

Feds: Uh huh. Hve you ever trafficked in drugs?

Me: (I was soooo tempted to say "yes" since I could see that apparently, being crazy and stalking people is a GOOD thing in federal jobs. But I weaseled out.) No.

Feds: Thank you for your time.

Needless to say, she got the job.

Good luck, JTP!

Mike Marchand said...

Purchasing Independence Day is forgivable as long as he has The Rock.

The movie, not the wrestler.

joshthepilot said...

Thanks Mike for the forgiveness. I have The Rock, the movie, but I also like the wrestler. Uh oh, does this mean I'm not forgiven?

JHD said...

Nothing wrong with living near a NASCAR track... unless it's immediately in your backyard. Races are fun! And I'm a girl who hated NASCAR until last year.

Take MB to a race, she'll change her mind. She goes to a track where they race horses, racing cars is no different. Except the smell of gasoline replaces the smell of horse and horse stuff, and the drivers are MUCH better looking.

Although I will say you lost me at drinking white zin, for any reason, out of anything.

Cbell said...

At least you get to think through the answers to the questions. It is better than having a Secret Service agent appear at your place of employment to ask questions about your friend who is with the Special Forces in the Army. There's no time to be witty when you are wondering if you will be followed for the next few years since your name and address has now been given to the Secret Service.

Dantelope said...

People should not be afraid of their governments. Governments should be afraid of their people

--V

MB said...

"Take MB to a race, she'll change her mind."

He did. I came home with tire bits in my hair, the inability to hear, and wondering if this was a massively secret passive-aggressive "date."

"She goes to a track where they race horses, racing cars is no different."

It is when the horses only go around the circle once, not FIVE HUNDRED BILLION TIMES. Augh.

"Except the smell of gasoline replaces the smell of horse and horse stuff"

Much as I have indicated that I enjoy the smell of gasoline, I like horse-smell better. Seriously. (I never promised normalcy, people.)

"and the drivers are MUCH better looking."

Meet Gary Stevens, and this one jockey at Tampa Bay Downs who I once-- never mind. You're too young.

Nicko McDave said...

Since the topic has already been breached...

When I was a newlywed, I got into the habit of putting the lid down. This was no attempt on my part to be gentlemanly or gallant. We were living with my bride's parents, and my mother-in-law had a rather large mixed breed dog. One night I was awakened by the sounds of fierce splashing coming from the bathroom. A quick investigation revealed that the pooch (who was the size of a short pony) was getting some midnight refreshment in liquid form from the flushable porcelain dish.

He was also making such a watery mess on the floor that if had posessed hands, I would hand handed him a mop and forced him to start cleaning up. The sight of that thing lapping away inside of the toilet bowl convinced me to keep the lid down when not in use.

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