So today (Thursday, yesterday, yes, I’m a big dork)I flew in a four seat, single propeller plane from Fullerton to Burbank. It was so much fun, I swear I died. We flew right past Downtown L.A.. My city was so beautiful, rising up into the smog like fingers into hell, I loved it. We also flew past the hollywood sign and over warner bros, and banked really hard into burbank. The bank was fan-fucking-riffic, and sooooo deadly terrifying at the same time, I’ve resolved that when I’m a millionaire I’m going to pay someone to fly me around, and just bank for at least 10 minutes everyday. It’s so fucking awesome when what used to be your window suddenly becomes something more like the floor!
O.K., I might owe anyone who reads this a little bit of explination as to how I ended up in this situation in the first place. I had a pre-con meeting for AFG today, and had to be in Burbank at 3pm, but the person who was going to give me a ride couldn’t, so I went to another meeting and asked people there if anyone could give me a ride, and this one guy I don’t really know was like “I’ll fly you there”, and then this lady I know and my brother heard about it, and they wanted to come, and I was like, “yeah, coz … I don’t really know this guy”, and they did, and it turned out that he’s this really cool, really nice guy, and a fucking awesome pilot.
And, I just wanted to put in an aside that my boyfriend is really fucking cool, because he knows about good music, and he has his own radio show, and he’s really fucking cute, and smart, and 10 times more awesome than anyone who reads this’s boyfriends will evah be. Playah.