Buttergolems on the plane Being the good shitlady I am, I'm very fussy about whom I sit next to on a plane. Southwest has made it possible to avoid sitting next to obeasts, so I pay for early check-in, then sit next to nice older couples (or in this case, a father and his teenage daughter, both human sized) so that I can have all my seat, including the extra few inches my ass doesn't use, myself. Anyway. It's a full flight. I watched in horror as FUPAtrooper after FUPAtrooper boarded. Not one single melted mayo creature had purchased two seats. This has led to some comical scenes: 1) A formerly male buttergolem had to be moved to the flight attendants' jump seats after takeoff. I'm enraged at this asshole for not buying two seats, because ffs, he was literally endangering lives being shoehorned in like that. 2) Two tubblrinas are squished in together, aisle seat and middle seat. Both are scowling as their adipose melts together. Both had been eyeing me in the boarding line, alternately glaring at my skinny jeans and hoping I would take an empty row so one of them could squish in next to me. This is karma at its finest. 3) The fatass baby boomer, formerly female, sitting in front of me has been reclining her seat and bumping the living shit out of the tray table, while I try to complete some work to pay for her beetus juice. Oh, and she's wearing a velour track suit. Flying out of Houston. To Los Angeles. In the fucking middle of summer. One hour to go.