Dear President Obama,
I am writing to formally register my complaint that I was at JFK airport yesterday and was NOT the beneficiary of a full body pat (neither with or without release). I thought that was something that I had coming to me so I arrived a little early and made sure I smelled real, real perty. So that didn't happen and I blame the TSA and George W. Bush. And you a little bit, but I am hoping for one at LAX in a few days.
You might be interested to know that my flight was delayed two hours due to equipment problems, so I had plenty of time to kill. Instead of surveying the security procedures, I essentially made love to my Blackberry.
I got an e-mail, Mr. President, informing me that The Real Housewives of Atlanta was nominated for an NAACP Image Award for Best Reality Show. I thought that was intesting. And as I scanned the nominees I saw that the funeral/memorial of Michael Jackson was also nominated. Mm-hmm. In case you're wondering the category, sir, it is: Outstanding Variety (series or special). I dunno, is that weird to you or the First Lady? Or anybody but me?
Oh and I had time to kill so I changed my Facebook status to something like "getting out of the tundra and heading to sunshiney Los Angeles." Then I got an e-mail from a lady (in my home state of Missouri) telling me to ignore her friend request because she simply CANNOT TAKE my status updates. She can't take them, see, Mr. President. So I e-mailed her back and said, "That's funny" and then I boarded my flight.
Up in the air, sir, I read some magazines and then, in adherence to no security rules that I'm aware of, passed them to my flight attendant. Then I got a few hours of work done and was interrupted by the lady who took my periodicals. Obviously she'd seen the address on them because she said "Do you work at 30 Rock?".
"Yes I do," I said.
She replied, "Are you aware that there is a TV Show called 30 Rock that takes place in that building?"
I told her that I certainly was aware of that, Mr. President! It turns out she's from Coto de Caza.... And all this reminds me to remind you to tell Michelle to Tivo tonight's brand new OC Housewives episode cuz I think she mentioned that the two of you have plans tonight.
So after the flight attendant numbed my cerebrum with her pop culture geography game, I used my gogo inflight Internet and checked out Facebook. There awaited a reply from the Missourian who deplores my status updates. "It's not a joke. Could you please just do it?" She was now begging for me to shield her from my blatantly offensive status updates, and this was making me very drunk with power, Barack. I emailed her back and said, "Nah, I'd rather irritate you."
And I vowed to myself and my country, sir, to update my status as much as possible so I can drive this gal (that's what they call a woman in Missouri) bonkers. I still don't understand why her requesting me as a friend means she's getting my updates, but I'm not going to worry myself too much about it.
In closing, I don't want you to think that just because I got a little chatty in this e-mail about my travels that I'm not still really upset about the lack of a pat-down at JFK. I will expect some sort of hand action at LAX.
My regards to Malia. (I still am not speaking to Sasha and she knows exactly why.)