Service update:
Today is a travel day, and judging by past experience, blogging will be either logorrheic (trapped in the airport) or spare (peacefully zonked on airline vodka). Normal blogging (or normal for this place) should resume tomorrow.
Posted by scott on Wednesday, July 29th, 2009 at 6:27 am
17 Responses to “We Really Move Our Tails For You”
Well, at least you left an attractive if sexist filler…
PSA. Ah, memories. . . I remember they painted a smile on each of their planes.
PSA?
If the second word is sweat, I don’t want to know why they’re wearing skirts.
If the second word is sweat, I don’t want to know why they’re wearing skirts.
Yes those smiling planes rattling my fillings as I worked in a hole-in-the-wall FX shop in North Hollywood. As they came in to land at Burbank, they were so low over near Laurel Canyon and Sherman Way that they filled the sky.
Now those are some sky muffins. BTW, sky muffins is a term from my former flight attendant friend.
Well, please do post when you can, Scott. I’m still useless as tits on a boar hog, as my Google-censored blog more than shows, but we NEED WoC, dammit.
No experience with airlines, PSA or otherwise, but did theyreally make the flight attendants (or “stewardesses”) wear the go-go-dancer shtick??? That’s almost as fucked-up as “he flips’” vagina-hating comment.
No experience with airlines, PSA or otherwise, but did theyreally make the flight attendants (or “stewardesses”) wear the go-go-dancer shtick??? That’s almost as fucked-up as “he flips’” vagina-hating comment.
I remember the stewardess outfits from my youth of flying TWA, which was done often as they’re hub was in St. Louis and they went everywhere.
My aunt was excommunicated from the family in the early sixties because she quit college (where she was to become a concert pianist — or preferably marry a wealthy med student) and became an airline stewardess. My grandma called her a slut and wouldn’t speak to her for eight years.
Yes, it was a southern family where the misogyny runs as deep and as murky as the old Mississippi river.
My aunt was excommunicated from the family in the early sixties because she quit college (where she was to become a concert pianist — or preferably marry a wealthy med student) and became an airline stewardess. My grandma called her a slut and wouldn’t speak to her for eight years.
Yes, it was a southern family where the misogyny runs as deep and as murky as the old Mississippi river.
That’s almost as fucked-up as “he flips’” vagina-hating comment
Let’s call it a love-hate. Hell I didn’t even shower today so who am I to throw stones (wash stones?).
Let’s call it a love-hate. Hell I didn’t even shower today so who am I to throw stones (wash stones?).
My aunt was excommunicated from the family in the early sixties
Growing up, the most glamorous person in my life was my stewardess aunt, who served United Airlines from the early sixties into the eighties. That was the “Coffee, Tea or Me” era, but I’d prefer not to think about that.
Growing up, the most glamorous person in my life was my stewardess aunt, who served United Airlines from the early sixties into the eighties. That was the “Coffee, Tea or Me” era, but I’d prefer not to think about that.
My aunt was excommunicated from the family in the early sixties
Some old school southern baptists out in frontier west texas have an attitude of “your business is your business.” I’ve seen pastors stealing a square after service. My mother was dropped by her family for having me as a teenager (after both her parents died) and the only people that treated us like family was our church.
As an atheist now, I chide these mega-church idiots that live around me for not acting like jesus (and my old church) tells them to act. But they are too busy crying martyrdom.
Sorry I’m drinking.
Some old school southern baptists out in frontier west texas have an attitude of “your business is your business.” I’ve seen pastors stealing a square after service. My mother was dropped by her family for having me as a teenager (after both her parents died) and the only people that treated us like family was our church.
As an atheist now, I chide these mega-church idiots that live around me for not acting like jesus (and my old church) tells them to act. But they are too busy crying martyrdom.
Sorry I’m drinking.
Just watch that toe tapping in the men’s room, buddy.
Wow. kate’s grandmother was an asshole. (Well, at least for 8 years anyway.)
I used to work with a woman who used to be a stewardess way back when, and although she wasn’t employed by a carrier that made her wear mod miniskirts, all of the “girls” were inspected before every shift, with random snapping of their stocking garters to be sure they were wearin’ em. Which I don’t get at all, because back in the pre-pantyhose days, it was garter belts or knee socks or slutty bare legs, and surely that could be found out without snapping. But I guess nothing says “we own you” like a random garter snap.
I remember the sixties PSA stewardess uniforms, and thought they were way cool at the time. It was like flying around with a plane fulla Emma Peels.
I’m just glad there aren’t any pictures of me in some of the ridiculous clothing I wore back then… I hope.
Paisley, stripes, polka dots (don’t ask, some sort of an op-art deal), too-short flared pants, and let’s don’t talk about the hair, okay?
I’m just glad there aren’t any pictures of me in some of the ridiculous clothing I wore back then… I hope.
Paisley, stripes, polka dots (don’t ask, some sort of an op-art deal), too-short flared pants, and let’s don’t talk about the hair, okay?
Larkspur:
The logistics of your story interest me. These garters are accessible how?
Are we talking about a hand up a short skirt? That would tend to send a message.
Sorry, just confused about how that, uhmm, worked, exactly.
The logistics of your story interest me. These garters are accessible how?
Are we talking about a hand up a short skirt? That would tend to send a message.
Sorry, just confused about how that, uhmm, worked, exactly.
She just said they’d grab the fabric of their skirts and verify the presence of garter belts like that. No hands up the skirts. Kind of how girls get their bra straps or bands snapped. You know the general vicinity, so you grab there. Now, I do not recall what, if anything, my friend said about situations in which the stewardess’s garter was not easily snapped through the fabric. I guess my mind just kind of stalled at the stupid.
BTW, she also said that after she was married, and her husband was being considered as an associate in a law firm, she had to go in for an interview as well. I guess they had to be sure that he had chosen his helpmeet wisely, and that she would not embarrass the firm at company functions. Or maybe it was just to show him that they had the power to make him jump through any damn hoops they felt like setting up. Sometimes I forget how mean men can be to each other.
BTW, she also said that after she was married, and her husband was being considered as an associate in a law firm, she had to go in for an interview as well. I guess they had to be sure that he had chosen his helpmeet wisely, and that she would not embarrass the firm at company functions. Or maybe it was just to show him that they had the power to make him jump through any damn hoops they felt like setting up. Sometimes I forget how mean men can be to each other.
I dunno, Larkspur, mebbe it was just another form of dick-waving, as in, welllll, buddy if you think you’re gonna be one of US, welllll then, you’d better be prepared to bring yer pretty young wifey wif ya to those KEY PARTIES, and we wanna get a look at ‘er before you get the gig!
Or, y’know, more of the same misogynistic shit of “she’s YOUR property, so since you’re not OUR property, that means that WE get approval rights over your livestock, boyo!”
No, I wasn’t born yet, but there are very few things about that era that I feel like I’ve missed-out upon. The music, sure. The writers, the poetry, the art, the protests, absofuckinlutely. But the Good Ole Boy network (which still reigns supreme here in Vatican West!) — I’da been in prison right quick, if I hadda put up with a motherfucker snapping MY garters. And that little “Harper Valley PTA” meeting with the wifey before hubby got his partnership in the law firm… nah, he’d never have made it, and it would alllllll have been my loud-mouthed, hussy fault! Your aunt hadda be one helluva patient, strong-willed woman with a cast-iron constitution, Kate.
When I read back and look back and think back over the women who were down in the trenches, working not because they CHOSE to, not because they went to Barnard or Wellsley or Brown and sought a “MEANINGFUL CAREER,” but because they HAD TO WORK IN ORDER TO LIVE, *these* are some of the women that I think of as being the REAL front-line infantry. Oh, sure, everybody THINKS that they had it posh, but imagine the pure-dee, class-A, steaming piles of ripe BULLSHIT that they had to plow through on a daily basis! Gloria Steinem can bitch and whine about her heels and her bunny suit all she wants, it’s not like she depended on that gig TO LIVE.
My grandmother taught public school in an un-air-conditioned one-room schoolhouse in Back Bumfuck, Louisiana, with an outdoor privy and FORTY-FIVE KIDS PER CLASS, no planning periods, hardly a WHIFF of a union back then, and SHIT PAY for the greater part of forty-three years, but do you think that the hoity-toities, the rich librul yankees would see HER as a feminist?No, ’cause she worked FOR A LIVING, not to prove a fucking POINT.
Women who do such dirty-handed work as that never get credit for making an assload of progress in the “war between the sexes,” which still seems like a GAME to the guys, who still get paid 40-50% higher than we do.
And my grandfather, bless his heart, was one of the last true “christians,” a man who put in a 12-hour work night in the R&D lab @ Ethyl Chemical for 30-some-odd years, just to keep his little working-class, dirt-farmer baptist church up and running. He put clothes on the backs of his (FIRST) Great Depression-era flock, he grew a garden in his back yard to help feed their children, he gave it his EVERYTHING just to help those people hold body & soul together, but they don’t make preachers like him anymore. Those are never gonna be the famous or rich preachers, they’ll never be remembered like an Oral Roberts or a Jimmy Swaggart or even the rare GOOD evangelist like Billy Graham(who somehow spawned the jizz-spit of satan himself in that neo-nazi neo-con “son” of his!), but dammit, they did the work and then some, and gave it everything they had.
But then, that’s when people thought that being a “christian” was about being LIKE Jesus, not thinking that you were better THAN Jesus, or that your cult affiliation somehow made you exempt from all forms of manners, civilization, law and common decency. Kinda like Senators in airports, huh.
Or, y’know, more of the same misogynistic shit of “she’s YOUR property, so since you’re not OUR property, that means that WE get approval rights over your livestock, boyo!”
No, I wasn’t born yet, but there are very few things about that era that I feel like I’ve missed-out upon. The music, sure. The writers, the poetry, the art, the protests, absofuckinlutely. But the Good Ole Boy network (which still reigns supreme here in Vatican West!) — I’da been in prison right quick, if I hadda put up with a motherfucker snapping MY garters. And that little “Harper Valley PTA” meeting with the wifey before hubby got his partnership in the law firm… nah, he’d never have made it, and it would alllllll have been my loud-mouthed, hussy fault! Your aunt hadda be one helluva patient, strong-willed woman with a cast-iron constitution, Kate.
When I read back and look back and think back over the women who were down in the trenches, working not because they CHOSE to, not because they went to Barnard or Wellsley or Brown and sought a “MEANINGFUL CAREER,” but because they HAD TO WORK IN ORDER TO LIVE, *these* are some of the women that I think of as being the REAL front-line infantry. Oh, sure, everybody THINKS that they had it posh, but imagine the pure-dee, class-A, steaming piles of ripe BULLSHIT that they had to plow through on a daily basis! Gloria Steinem can bitch and whine about her heels and her bunny suit all she wants, it’s not like she depended on that gig TO LIVE.
My grandmother taught public school in an un-air-conditioned one-room schoolhouse in Back Bumfuck, Louisiana, with an outdoor privy and FORTY-FIVE KIDS PER CLASS, no planning periods, hardly a WHIFF of a union back then, and SHIT PAY for the greater part of forty-three years, but do you think that the hoity-toities, the rich librul yankees would see HER as a feminist?No, ’cause she worked FOR A LIVING, not to prove a fucking POINT.
Women who do such dirty-handed work as that never get credit for making an assload of progress in the “war between the sexes,” which still seems like a GAME to the guys, who still get paid 40-50% higher than we do.
And my grandfather, bless his heart, was one of the last true “christians,” a man who put in a 12-hour work night in the R&D lab @ Ethyl Chemical for 30-some-odd years, just to keep his little working-class, dirt-farmer baptist church up and running. He put clothes on the backs of his (FIRST) Great Depression-era flock, he grew a garden in his back yard to help feed their children, he gave it his EVERYTHING just to help those people hold body & soul together, but they don’t make preachers like him anymore. Those are never gonna be the famous or rich preachers, they’ll never be remembered like an Oral Roberts or a Jimmy Swaggart or even the rare GOOD evangelist like Billy Graham(who somehow spawned the jizz-spit of satan himself in that neo-nazi neo-con “son” of his!), but dammit, they did the work and then some, and gave it everything they had.
But then, that’s when people thought that being a “christian” was about being LIKE Jesus, not thinking that you were better THAN Jesus, or that your cult affiliation somehow made you exempt from all forms of manners, civilization, law and common decency. Kinda like Senators in airports, huh.
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