As you read this, my plane is leaving for Los Angeles. I have a job interview for an exotic dancer position at a club called "Punto Wiener". While there are many important things to bring on a trip, like toothpaste, clothing, Vicodin, and Golden Girls commemorative silverware, here's some other items I plan to pack.
- A backpack full of underwear. And shirts, socks, jeans, etc. But it sounds awesomer if I say "A backpack full of underwear."
- 27 condoms. I'm not really expecting to get laid, but in case I find a willing girl, I plan to wear all the condoms at once. It is Los Angeles, after all.
- Valtrex. Once again, I have no need for this stuff, but I'm not taking any chances with the ladies there. They will be required to use the medication before intercourse. Call me preemptive, but I'm just amusing myself at the expense of my sex life being safe.
- A plastic bag full of needles. I call this "required diabetic supplies". Airport security will call this "Please bend over and spread your cheeks."
- Eyeglasses. These are just in case my contact lenses get torn or lost. I'm not sure why I'm even bringing them, since the prescription hasn't been updated in 10 years. Literally. I'm as blind as your mother with my glasses on. I would end up ramming my rental car into a farmer's market, just like your grandfather.
- My mother. Just kidding.
- A boombox. iPods are for sissies. Real fellas annoy others with their music. What's the airline staff going to do about it? Throw me off the plane in mid-air?
- Naked photos of Ann Landers. Trust me: the other tourists will buy up this shit like hotcakes. Does anyone call pancakes hotcakes anymore? They should.
- A copy of "Let Freedom Ring" by Sean Hannity. Bill O'Reilly told me it wards off terrorist attacks.
- Shaving cream. I don't want to shave with it. I just want to spray it in the pants of the person next to me when they fall asleep.
- $170. This should buy me five little bottles of liquor, if they even still sell those on airplanes.
- $24. This should buy me a "snack box", which is another name for a "meal of crappy airline food", which should be provided "for free in the first goddamn place". Cheap bastards.
- Diarrhea medication. Try and search me up there, eh airport security? Perhaps this little well-placed item in my carry-on bag will change your mind.
- Belt that I can remove and use to administer beatings. Because children shouldn't be allowed on airplanes anyway.
- Earplugs. In case the person next to me tries to speak to me.
- Ian Talty's credit card. Don't worry. It has a $25 limit that has to be replenished by Ian's parents when it gets used up. "Only for emergencies, Ian!" they warned him. "No potatoey chips or snuggly wuggly bears or pretty My Little Pony dolls! No shiny things! No kitchen magnets that smell like real butter! Emergencies only! You must lose an arm to use this $25, which your father slaved to earn by playing his bagpipes at Khan's Mongolian Barbeque on Portland Avenue! He wore a kilt authentically, and a draft from an open door caused all the diners to see his penis! You know how your pappy despises having strangers see his dingly thing! And for God's sake, call your friend Paul once in a while! He never gets to hang out with you anymore, and the only way he can get your attention is by writing about your father's wrinkly balls in his immature thrice-weekly humor column. It's pathetic, really.
