I don't know how they missed it, but, apparently not a single uppity up in the TSA nor President Obama has read my post calling for the replacement of the evil x-ray machines at airport security with cute little fluffy puppies. How could they miss it? I mean, I put it right there! (points to computer screen) On the internet! Therefore, I can only conclude that they are too busy chuckling at the cats on icanhascheezburger.com to do any real research on the new trends for intercontinental transportational security. All I can say, is, dudes, those cats are not as funny as you think they are.
So, as a result of TSAs inability to tear their eyes away from cute internet kittens speaking with a horrific ungrammatical accent, there I was, stripped to my skivvies (plus a tank top and jean skirt) standing in line with all the other airport travelers out of Phoenix that day about to be blasted with 189 quadrizillion knots of radiation. Now, don't get me wrong. I understand that the heightened security makes people feel safer after 9/11. Heck, when they started the whole remove shoes confiscate pocket knives thing, I donned my stripped monkey socks and cheerfully left my Swiss Army Knife at home. Heck, I even started wearing my hair in Princess Leia buns just so when I got chosen for those extra pat downs (as I always seemed to be chosen for) I could tell everyone that "TSA squeezed my buns today." (Yeeaaahhh...Jon never really appreciated the wittiness of that joke.) But naked radiation boxes? Seriously, TSA? Do I look like I need more super hero powers?
Then, I notice. People traveling with wee little babes are shuffled around the boxes. They don't have to go though.
Still baby and preschooler free.
Or am I?
As I come face to face with security personnel, I do what any woman my approximate age should do. I reach down, caress my stomach and say, "I don't exactly feel comfortable." And BAM! Just like that I save myself all the heartache that goes with having to attend Xavier's Institute for Higher Learning in order to learn how to control my mutant super powers.
But what about Jon, you ask. Will he be forced to abandon his family... his friends... his job... his life...his whole identity as he learns to control his new and strangely highly developed ambidextrous skills*? Naaawww.... That's why I'm planning on getting him this t-shirt for his birthday:
And some hair product.
Or maybe a wig.
I might need to take him down to ear piercing place in the mall too.
And maybe a cute pair of-
Aw crap. Never mind. I think Jon might be happier with the super hero powers.
*Knowledge that there is an ambidextrous X-man is just one of the wondrous things you can discover on the internet once you get past those stupid cats TSA. Just sayin'.