Notes To Self
has the best description of my fear of flying. The best part; she has solutions for the airline industry.

What I have concluded is that it is essentially a control issue for me. There is something about the idea of having to passively sit for several hours, trusting innumerable unseen forces (the pilot, and the laws of aerodynamics, to name just two) that depletes all the oxygen from the air around my head. I think I would be okay if I could sit up front with the pilot. "I think we were supposed to turn back there," I could say. Or, "Don't you think we better stop and and get directions?" They wouldn't have to pay the slightest attention, but it would make me feel much better. Maybe I could have a dummy control panel to fiddle with. I would pay extra for my "special" seat, and if they don't institute something like it very soon, they are going to have to bring back unfettered cocktail service. Trust me, it would be easier on everyone's nerves to just bring me into the cockpit.

This is where I get to take another opportunity to talk about poop. Maybe not me but I’m always impressed with someone like, Enjoy Tab who does.

I get it when little kids want to show off their poop. They're little and have not yet been properly shamed by society into believing excrement is filthy and should be flushed as quickly as possible.
But seriously, bronzing and displaying poop? What the hell is wrong with these people? I'm going to blame Scientology, even though I doubt it has any correlation.

And, an end of summer survival guide of sorts from one of my favorite Parisian bloggers, Holy Smokes writes;

So how to survive September in Paris, where the parties start up with earnest and everyone goes back to making sure they’re cooler than cool? I’ll give you this girl’s tonic: air tennis lessons, preparing this season’s bad joke routine, getting all skirts fitted skinny and buying many oversize cable knit sweaters, lubricating lips against the excessive glass/cigarette chaffing, and warming up the cellphone in the oven.

Final Note:
I’m watching the MTV Awards. Can someone tell Jack White that polyester pants aren’t flattering on anyone. Thanks

Contributing Editor, Chantel Williams also blogs at Life and Times of Chantel