Aug 30, 2005

My sister flew in from Brooklyn, and boy, are her arms tired!

Houston is such a calming place to come to, once you've lived in New York for a while. I mean, New York: the traffic, the subways, the copious amounts of bums, the chicken-sized pigeons--it's scary. So, when she wants some peace and quiet, Shannon flies home to Houston, where she can enjoy things like: the wide-open sky, the jolly fat people, real Mexican food, cowboys, and old oriental women in corduroy blazers and thongs.

What? Don't act so surprised. What did you expect? I mean, we have all that smog, so all people do is sit around, eat, and get fat. Why go outside when it's 110 degrees and deadly to breathe? What I was more worried about, was the thong-wearing oriental woman. Not that oriental women aren't allowed to wear thongs, because hey, you bind your feet, you might as well bind your ass crack, too. I don't have a problem with it. What I DO have a problem with, is that this lovely display of butt-bondage was seen in public. Not at a Walmart, where you would expect to see such things, but at the airport.

My poor, precious little sister was waiting for me to pick her up (I'm notoriously late for everything, but this time it wasn't my fault. Her flight was 45 minutes early. Hell, I didn't even think that was possible.)when she was blinded by the light. The light white of an old oriental's gams. Whilst she waited, patiently for her big sister, a large SUV pulled up into my sister's line of sight. Perturbed, but bored (and therefore becoming amused and curious) Shannon watched the SUV. As an oriental man walked from the sidewalk to the SUV, his oriental wife opened the door and stepped out--most likely to greet him with oriental kisses from his oriental business trip, and then swap sides so he could drive. You know, the usual. But, as the oriental woman stepped out of the SUV, Shannon noticed that something was, wait...something was missing. Hello, it was the lady's drawers. The old lady was missing her pants. She was wearing a corduroy blazer--buttoned-up smartly; her hair was piled atop her head in a, presumably, sexy-do; she was wearing black stilettos; and a thong. No pants. Shannon squinted to be sure, because, you never know, maybe they were just small. Really small. Instead, she saw oriental butt cheek, as the lady walked around to the passenger side of the car.

Granted, I'm happy when my husband gets home from business trips, but I wouldn't pick him up wearing just a thong and a blazer, that's just....wait a minute. Maybe that's the trick!

Leaving the airport, I saw the huge sign that reads, "Welcome to Houston!" in small letters, I'd like to add: "home of fat people, pollution, and pantsless orientals."


Anonymous said...

And now for the male point of view:

Dear Diary: Today my wife came to pick me up from the airport after my two week business trip to Walla Walla, Washington. Without going into too much detail, my wife rocks...

Just wait until you pass the next Asian lady in traffic and think "Is she wearing pants?"

By the way: Rugs are oriental, people are Asian. :-)

The Fly Eater

stewbie2 said...

Can-it, fly eater. I just assumed she was, borrowing from Meriam-Webster, "one who is a native of east Asia or is of east Asian descent."

And, you better watch it buddy, I may see your son before you do, and I'll be damned if I'm not going to tell him secrets of "The Fly Eater" before you come back from playland.

P.S: If you are, indeed, "one who is a native of east Asia or is of east Asian descent," I'm sorry if I offended you. I'm just a wee lass and am not always up on what's PC.

Anonymous said...

Should have known better than to get into a grammar war with and English Professor. Engineer vs English major, whose gonna win that one?

Logan is now officially "Son of Fly Eater" (the sequal).

Anonymous said...

UUUMMM . . . "Son of Fly Eater" has not been processed with official approval from "Wife of Fly Eater". Do we have to give him that name? I would prefer there not be a sequeal and hope he doesn't eat a fly just b/c it is stuck, helpless, on a piece of German Chocolate Cake!