Marshmallow Shooters

I meant to actually save this as a draft yesterday and not publish it without an explanation. Sorry if you read this yesterday and were like, "What on earth are you talking about?" So here's the explanation.

When I was on the plane the other day I was reading Sky Mall, which I do pretty much every time I fly. It never changes much from flight to flight, but it also never stops being hilarious. I love to imagine the mindset of the people who purchase 95% of the stuff in that magazine. "I'm landscaping my yard right now, and you know what's missing? A gigantic sculpture of a yeti! Or perhaps a sumo wrestler. I think that would tie the whole project together!" or "Ooh, a fully accurate model of a pteradactyl that you can fly around the living room! That will be perfect for little Billy!" As far as I'm concerned, though, it's pretty much the perfect place to buy gag gifts. In fact, they sell this wine rack in the shape of a French waiter that my sister bought me as a joke housewarming gift when I moved into my first apartment...and it has since moved with me three times, once all the way across the country. So, uh, maybe I shouldn't make as much fun of this catalog as I do.
But anyway, I was on the last leg of my flight home the other night when I decided it was time to flip through SkyMall, and one of the first things I came across was this:
"The Marshmallow Shooter"
"This clever pump-action device shoots sweet, edible miniature marshmallows over 30', and-unlike other marshmallow blasters-it come with an LED sight that projects a safe beam of red light to help locate target for accuracy."
What the...? Who shoots marshmallows? Why would anyone make a gun that's made for shooting marshmallows?
I was still pondering those questions when I came across this item, about ten pages later:
"The 40' Marshmallow Bazooka"
"This battery powered bazooka launches edible, full-sized marshmallows up to 40', forever changing the rules of engagement for marshmallow gun confrontations...Simply load a marshmallow into the chamber, wait for the LED on the reticle to illuminate, and pull the trigger to bombard your mark with confections."
When I read that one I literally laughed out loud. First of all, "bombard your mark with confections" is perhaps the best phrase ever written in the history of human language. It definitely trumps "cellar door." Second of all, "forever changing the rules of engagement for marshmallow gun confrontations"? What are these rules? Where are these confrontations happening? Is there some sort of underground society where people are running around shooting each other with marshmallows? I don't get it at all, but every time I think about it I laugh. And if anyone has any insight into why a catalog would be selling not just one but two types of marshmallow shooters, please enlighten me. Also, I know exactly what everyone is getting for Christmas next year!

Here are some other things that happened on my flight the other day:
-When I was getting on the plane, the flight attendant announced, "Don't worry about the fire trucks parked to the left of the aircraft. Some fuel was spilled as we were filling up and there's a crew out there cleaning it up now. The fire trucks are just there as a precaution." The plane was sitting in a lake of jet fuel. Exciting stuff. This is the third time I've been on a plane where fire trucks had to be brought out at either take off or landing "as a precaution" for some reason or another. And it's not like I fly THAT often. Generally half a dozen times a year at most. So statistically, my odds haven't been good on this. You may not want to fly places with me, because apparently I like my flights with a slight risk of combustion.
-As we were waiting for a crew to sop up the jet fuel so we could be on our way, I was looking out my window. Below me was the conveyor belt that they use to load the luggage into the belly of the plane. But was anyone actually loading luggage? No. Instead, some clown was trying to push his buddy up the conveyor belt instead, both of them were laughing like crazy, and the suitcases were sitting in the truck definitely NOT being loaded onto the plane. Apparently the ground crew at my local airport is going out for the Idiots of the Holiday Travel Season Award. (And the only people that might beat them are the idiots at my hometown airport, who somehow managed to take an ENTIRE FUCKING HOUR to deliver the suitcases from our airplane to the baggage claim area after my flight arrived.)
-I got stuck with really annoying seatmates on my first flight. It's as if someone called central casting and said, "Hey, send out two completely stereotypical wealthy southern businessmen and put them on American Airlines flight 1285 in seats 27 B and C. Thanks!" All of the following things happened (I am not exaggerating):
1. It was me, Suit Guy#1, and an old man sitting in my row at first. Then Suit Guy #2 comes back just before the flight begins and says, "Sorry they screwed that up. This airline is really going downhill. I'm going to go ahead and move back here to sit with you in a while since we have those things to discuss. [Addressing old man in the aisle seat] That's fine with you, right? You can take my seat in first class and I'll take this one. I'm just going to wait through a couple rounds of beverage service up in first class so I can get my free Glenlivet and then I'll be back here." (And then the old man on the aisle, who was clearly a little concerned and didn't really want to move, was like "But all my stuff is back here in the overhead compartments..." and SG#2 completely brushed him off and said, "Don't worry about it, we'll figure it out," in a voice that was much more condescending than reassuring).
2. Half an hour later, SG#2 comes back with an armful of beer and two scotch on the rocks, which he hands to SG#1. They preceded to tell me about how they were supposed to be in first class but the airline messed up until I was really, really sick of hearing about it. I get it, dudes, you're first class material. Also, you love having business meetings in the Admiral's Club, but only the one in Terminal D. Noted.
3. The flight was three hours long. By the end of it, they'd had 8 beers and at least 4 scotches between them. They grew increasingly lit. I grew increasingly annoyed.
4. I had to listen to them talk for an hour about their business propositions without ever using a single proper noun, so even though I know that they need to give so-and-so two mil and that so-and-so is upside down on the mortgage and that Fort Whatever needs x number of items and that they're going to let Laura go after the new year, I have no idea what on earth they might actually do for a living other than shuffle huge amounts of money around and fire people.
5. They inexplicably decided to pull out newly-bought jewelry and compare it, saying things like, "Oh yes, she's going to love that. How many karats is it?" Eventually SG#1 goes, "Well, show that young lady, see if she likes it," and SG#2 hands me a box with an enormous diamond ring in it and says, "What do you think?" I murmur something polite like, "That's beautiful, any woman would be thrilled to get it," and SG#2 says, "What size is your ring finger? Do you think you could try it on for me? I got it in such a hurry the jeweler wasn't able to tell me what size it is." So I put the ring on my finger just enough to show him that yes, it was probably going to fit and seemed like a standard ring size, wondering how it's possible to have so much money to fling around that you can buy a diamond ring without knowing exactly how many karats it is or the size of the band. Also, they were talking cryptically so I never could figure out who the ring was for, but the guy was wearing a wedding ring so I really, really hope it was for his wife (but, frankly, from the way they were talking I kind of doubt it).
6. SG#1 pulls out an ornament, brags about getting it at a White House Christmas party, and then (I am not kidding) says, "Isn't this just the most beautiful thing with the little American flags engraved on the sides?" and then leans over and KISSES the American flags engraved on the ornament. Wow, sir. That's some patriotism.
7. Just when I thought things couldn't possibly get anymore cliched and ridiculous, we left the plane and were walking into the terminal and I overheard the following:
SG#1: We have about ten more minutes until Mary gets here. You know what that means?
SG#2: What?
SG#1: We have just enough time to get a shoe shine!
SG#2: I would LOVE a shoe shine!
SG#1: I've been wanting one all week! These shoes look like trash!
SG#2: I love a good shoe shine!
Seriously? "I love a good shoe shine"?! I really wish people like that only existed in the movies. I know I've had moments where I've been guilty of being a bit pretentious, but I've rarely met a person who can be pretentious for three straight hours. That takes skill.

Anyway, my travel was actually pretty good because I had a layover in an airport that happens to be the airport Kiki has to fly to when she goes home to visit her family, and she happened to be flying home on the same day I was so she hung out with me while I was on my layover and I got to see her for the first time since August, which was nice. And with that run-on sentence, I'm out of here.