Note to self: Even though the box of the hair removal wax kit claims that it is ‘Easy!’ and ‘Painless!’ with exclamation points, it is, in fact, neither easy NOR painless. Additionally, exclamation points, once regarded as a sign of exuberant veracity, may now have to be regarded with suspicion as telltale beacons of a greater web of lies.

If you were, perhaps, mourning the arrival of this newer, more graceful Mellzah, you will be relieved to know that my streak of non-klutzy activity ended just now when I managed to flip over my manicotti into my lap, soaking my jeans and office carpet with red sauce.

Go me!

What ever happened to the days when it was a big deal to fly on an airplane? When people would dress up just for the occasion, and you didn’t have to worry about sitting next to someone who looked or smelled like the Elephant Man? Or someone who might attempt to pay for their third drink at thirty thousand feet with food stamps? The days when some tiresome ‘security’ guard who doesn’t speak passable english wouldn’t hassle someone like my dad for having (gasp) a full size cologne in his briefcase? The days when you didn’t have to gather all of your toiletries and makeup, check each one to see if it was over or under the allowable amount of ounces, and then figure out how you were going to get it all to fit in a quart size plastic bag, because you can’t put it in your checked baggage lest a minimum wage government worker monkey on a power trip were to take his giant egg beater and whip it through your suitcase, wrinkling your clothes, breaking your breakables, and loosening product caps enough so they’ll ooze fluid all over everything?

Only two more hours until I get to experience the joy of all of these changes, once again. Given that I very nearly have to bend over for a cavity check to search me for some hidden Bumble & Bumble every single time I fly, I’m pretty sure the terrorists have already won. It’s clearly a war on hygiene. An assault on your sense of smell. How did I get on this extra-hassle-terrorist-watch list? I’m pretty certain that by virtue of the plain fact of the size of my waistline, I don’t have nearly enough strength of character to believe in any cause enough to die for it. Just saying.

Lesley called me yesterday to request that I not miss my flight like the best man did yesterday–there’s not much chance of that, as unlike him, I didn’t find it to be a priority to go out drinking the night before.

Forewarned is forearmed, though–I STILL might not make it to Wisconsin, if only because if there are any screaming babies on the flight, I will surely take it upon myself to flush them down the toilet one by one.