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Warning: This post was inspired by the brain dump posted yesterday by hank.

     Traveling blows.

     No, I am not some closed-minded American imperialist that thinks that there is nothing to the world outside of my borders (with some of you morons going so far as to include Hawaii and Alaska as being “outside the borders”).  Traveling is the act of getting from point A to point B, not the process of experiencing point B.Me, I love experiencing point B, no matter where it is.   Right now, point B is Chicago.  I was here years ago, when I was too young to really appreciate the city.

     Today, well, today is different.

     I just remembered that this is the city that served as a backdrop for “Ferris Bueller’s Day Off”.   I wonder if I can find the restaurant that they go to for lunch, where Ferris claims to be Abe Forman, the Sausage King of Chicago.

     Sorry.  Tangent.  That’s how my mind works.  It’s what enables me to do more than you do.  Deal with it.

     I will say it again, I hate to travel.  It blows.   And by blows, I mean the kind of blowage that most of you guys wish you were getting but aren’t.

     Airplanes are nothing more than cattle cars that fly, with you and I, my dear reader, being the Grade-D beef.  Hell, after sitting for three hours in this seat, I even have the equivalent of United Airline’s brand on my ass.

     Considering that this is only a three-hour flight to Chicago, this doesn’t bode well for my trip to Seattle in May, or to France in June.  I’m going to have to do some serious research into upgrade plans.  If I am going to be beef, then I’m going to be Kobe.

     Catching up on my reading, I came across this lovely tidbit.  Women, listen up, this is for you (except for thenewgirl, whom I actually think wrote this letter.  In that case, kudos to you), as this is just one of the many pages I am writing in what should be your new bible.

Taken from “Get Naked” in “Time Out New York”, Issue 550, April 13-19:

Recently, you expressed doubts as to a woman’s ability to grasp a man’s attachment to masturbation.  Well, here I am.  Grasp it.  I’m 25.  I have been masturbating since I was seven years old.  I’m also turned on by the idea of a man masturbating.  Like most women, I think porn is generally too lacking in genuine attraction, but I understand that male sexuality is more visually based, and I like that, along with other things that make men ”men”.  I naturally gravitate toward monogamy, but I’m turned on by the whole male thing about being a predator and spreading the seed.  It’s so primal.  Believe it or not, if I caught my boyfriend jerking off to porn, I’d just ask if he needed any help.  To me it represents his devotion to women.  It reinforces my belief that he needs a woman.  And that’s the biggest turn-on – to feel desired, and not because you are a good person but because, as a woman, you possess what he wants.  Of course, you have to recognize that other women possess it too.  If I feel secure in a relationship, when another woman gets his attention, I don’t feel threatened.  It actually turns me on, unless there seems to be a long-lasting, persistent attraction to one specific woman.  Also, I think being threatened by Internet porn is the equivalent of a man being threatened by a vibrator.  For God’s sake - he can’t fuck them.  They are pixels on the monitor!  Men have to deal with a more powerful sex drive, which is much more easily engaged… and that is so perfect.  Nobody would really want it any other way.  So why can’t we just enjoy it?  Besides, what fun is it to have a man that you don’t have the slightest danger of losing?  Where is the urgency?

     So what’s the moral of the story?  When your mother catches you whacking off, it’s ok, she shouldn’t get jealous.

     Boo-yah, I’m about to land.

     Here’s a loose itinerary:

Friday – Seeing the Twins @ White Sox.  Seats are four rows behind the first-base dugout.  It should be good, considering that it is a division matchup.  And yes, my first choice was to see the Cubs, but they are in St. Louis.

Saturday – Dinner at Alinea.  From what I have seen, this restaurant is to Chicago what Per Se is to New York City.  There is a 26-course menu “tour” that I will be partaking in.   Thinking about it now, I should have purchased an extra seat for the flight home.

     Anyone that has any suggestions,  let me know, as I have time to fill up in other areas of my schedule.

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