I didn't expect the interviewer to ask me who I would invite to dinner if I could invite any three people in the world, dead or alive. Most people with common sense would name important historial figures, influential political icons, and wordly persons. I, on the otherhand, did not. I wanted to dine with G.W. Bush so I can see whether Bush is as stupid as I think he is. "I want to see if Bush is able to sound intellectual with out a script." Yes, I took a political stance and called our current president an idiot during the graduate school interview. You may be wondering who else I wanted to join this hypothetical dinner party.

Well Chopin, the conductor. First, Chopin is a composer, not a conductor. If someone is your favorite composer, you should know what he does for a living. Chopin didn't stand in front of an orchestra and flung his arms around with a stick in his hand. He COMPOSED music. Great. Two down, one to go. The third person I named was Freud. Why Freud? I wanted to witness his psychotic coke-laden behavior in person. So not only did I knock our current president, but I also thrashed the founding father of psychoanalytic psychotherapy.

They should have a film titled "Guess Who's Coming to Dinner and Not Getting into a Graduate Program?"

How I spent my Vacation in the Airport.

***WA to NY connecting flight: As I stepped onto the plane, I felt nauseous. I was assigned the window seat but decided to give it the person next to me as a favor to him/her and to me. It's always better to stay in the center of the plane if one gets queesy. I approached my seat and asked the man, "Would you like the window?" He replied, "No, I don't need it." I retorted, "But you can have it if you want." He reluctantly moved over to the window and as he shifted places, the lady across the aisle pointed down to the ground. What was so important on the floor that needed attention? A seeing-eye dog.

Not only do I have to sit next to a blind man I just offended, but I have to share leg room with a 90 pound labrador. If Independence Airplanes weren't small enough, now I only had 5 square inches of room to rest my legs without blinding the dog as well with my sasquatch feet.

***TX to CA connecting flight: The flight to San Francisco began innocently. The man next to me avoided eye contact and mostly slept on the plane. I enjoy not having to engage in lengthy conversations on flights so I was happy to be sitting next to Army man. He was in fatigues and looked fatigued as well. About one hour until landing, the Sierra Mountains appeared in our plane window. As I peered over his shoulder, Army man took it as a cue to be my personal tour guide. The only problem was he spoke at an inaudible level. I leaned over as much as possible making sure I wasn't giving him the idea that I wanted to kiss me, and tried to listen to his comments on the geography.

After forty-five minutes straight of mumbling he informs me that he is partially deaf in one ear. Cool. Another plane partner with a phyiscal disability. Oh, let's not forget to mention his extreme near sightedness and sinus problems from being in the army. After this debrief, he starts asking me about my opinions on suicide bombers. My opinion is please don't speak about political issues on a plane with me who is a staunch liberal and do not favor military personell. Additionally, I thought we couldn't use the word bomb on a plane. Seriously, who talks about bombers and people strapped with bombs on a flight to CA? Am I missing something here? Is there something etched on my forehead that says, "Please start rambling?"

I must have made fun of a blind ex military man for wearing tapered pants in a previous life. Damn karma.

I've been away from New York too long. Everything I see is amusing. First of all, the bathtub drain at Krystal's apt is at the other end, opposite of waterspout. I'm trying to take a shower, wondering if I should lather my hair away from the shooting rain and allow the suds to fall into the drain. Am I crazy?

Second, all the gay guys are hot, well except for the dragqueen with the leopard jacket that scared the crap of me. We went to Avalon, formerly known as Limelight, last night and every guy I ran into I wanted to make out with. Oops. I couldn't because he was GAY. What a huge let down. I get immensely excited by their heavenly gelled hair and hot body, but then is unhumorously reminded that they like peen, which I do not have...

Third, the subway system is a circus show. I heard a homeless man jingle his cup of change and vagrants in "a cappella" group sing "In the Jungle." They did a better job than that Bob Marley wannabe guy.

Fourth and finally, they add crack in New York gin and tonics. Apparently, New Yorkers need a boost from their regular state of alcohol induced reality.