Some people call it discriminatory that transgenders are forced to use the bathroom of the gender they were born with while others claim it's perverted to allow people of one gender to use the bathroom designated for the other gender.
Here's what I think:
I don't care who is next to me in a public bathroom.
What I do care about is that I notice that there is always a long line at the ladies room. I don't know why there's always a line. Maybe women take longer to pee. Maybe women socialize in the bathroom, Maybe there are more of them and they have fewer stalls.
All I do know is I better not run into a long line at the men's room because women are using it.
If you are going to use my bathroom, pee, wash your hands and get the hell out. If you need to socialize, do it in the hallway or out in the parking lot. If you need to take a dump, go home. No one wants to deal with your stink so do your poopin' at home.
That's what I think.
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My daughter got a pwanger yesterday. She needs it for her studies. I told her that I didn't know vets used pwangers on dogs (or cats or lizards or whatever). She said she didn't know they did either.
Maybe it's an Iowa thing.
And for the record, it's not actually called a pwanger. My daughter told me it's called a plexor or reflex hammer but to me, it's always been a pwanger. When I was a kid, every time Joe Stirlacci hit me in the knee with it, I said, "Pwang!" and he giggled like a school girl.
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Oh, by the way, I solo'd today. I completed three takeoffs and three full-stop landings without an instructor.
That's right, I am now licensed to fly an aircraft by myself anytime I want.
Well, maybe not anytime I want. Maybe just during daylight and in good weather and remaining outside of class A, B, C and D airspace and staying within 25nm of my training airport. But other than that, anyotherdamnedtimeplace I want!
If you would like, here are two short videos my instructor took while watching me. This is my first solo takeoff and this is my first solo landing.
When you takeoff without an instructor in the right seat, you are thinking to yourself, "Hey! I can do this! This is easy!"
As you reach 800 feet and you turn crosswind, you are thinking to yourself, "Man, I know what I'm doing. This is great!"
As you turn downwind and reach 1,100 feet, you are looking around and thinking to yourself, "Wow, what a view. There's UMass over there. And look at Mount Sugarloaf! Man, the Connecticut is a beautiful river."
When you reach the end of the downwind leg, you suddenly start thinking about the things you need to do, "Set the flaps. Decrease RPMs. Begin your descent."
When you turn base, you think to yourself, "You're going too fast. You're too damned high! Push the nose down. Slow down! Raise the nose. Watch your airspeed!"
When you turn final and you see the end of the runway coming up at you, you think to yourself, "What the hell was I thinking. I have no idea how to fly this thing. I'm going to splatter this aircraft and myself all over the runway. It's gonna be a mess. They're gonna have to notify the FAA. The local news stations will come here and film the wreckage. I hope someone gives me a nice eulogy."
Then, all of a sudden, you cross the runway threshold, land the aircraft, apply the brakes and taxi over to your instructor. And that, my friends, is when you realize you did it. You realize that maybe, just maybe, you do know what you are doing and what you are doing IS THE ABSOLUTELY THE COOLEST FREAKIN' THING IN THE WORLD!
So you go do it a few more times, just to prove to yourself you really can do it.
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While I bask in the joy of attaining a significant milestone in my quest to fly, you can click on these links:
- He has a point but he probably shouldn't encourage that behavior.
- Yes, alcohol was involved.
- Oops.
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