Confirmed.
My suspiscion that the security in the airports of America is getting ridiculous has been given proof to it's validity.
Which means that yesterday, while flying home from Portland, they were so concerned that my jar of Nutella might be a bomb in disguise, they failed to notice the scissors in the front pocket of my backpack.
Not that scissors are exactly a dangerous weapon, but they've been priding themselves on their ability to find and remove vaguly pointy objects from carry-on luggage for years.
And they still can't get it right.
I now feel I have the right to continue to make fun of them.
Hah.
In other news, I want a guitar. I'm going to hunt through the vast number of pawn shops in this city for one. Never mind the fact that it'll be less then stellar quality, and I can't tune things very well, or that I can't even properly play the insterment in the first place. I'm going to get one.
I'm going to do everything I've always said I would after I get home from NBTSC, but never do. I've got seven years of procrastination and wishy-washy-ness to make up for. This means the following will take place:
*Guitar playin'
*Lindy Hoppin'
*Yoga practicin'
*Hitch-hikin'
*(more) Dumpster-divin'
*(more) Bicyclin'
That's all for now. More about the two week adventure in Oregon, and the adventure(?) of getting used to living with a roommate again, and of removing one's possessions from boxes.
Which means that yesterday, while flying home from Portland, they were so concerned that my jar of Nutella might be a bomb in disguise, they failed to notice the scissors in the front pocket of my backpack.
Not that scissors are exactly a dangerous weapon, but they've been priding themselves on their ability to find and remove vaguly pointy objects from carry-on luggage for years.
And they still can't get it right.
I now feel I have the right to continue to make fun of them.
Hah.
In other news, I want a guitar. I'm going to hunt through the vast number of pawn shops in this city for one. Never mind the fact that it'll be less then stellar quality, and I can't tune things very well, or that I can't even properly play the insterment in the first place. I'm going to get one.
I'm going to do everything I've always said I would after I get home from NBTSC, but never do. I've got seven years of procrastination and wishy-washy-ness to make up for. This means the following will take place:
*Guitar playin'
*Lindy Hoppin'
*Yoga practicin'
*Hitch-hikin'
*(more) Dumpster-divin'
*(more) Bicyclin'
That's all for now. More about the two week adventure in Oregon, and the adventure(?) of getting used to living with a roommate again, and of removing one's possessions from boxes.