HEY! All of you Californians who thought it would be way funny to elect Arnold Schwarzenegger into office because how funny would it be to have The Terminator run the state and give speeches in that vague-and-wacky-political-double-speak! I mean – ha! How funny is it, because Arnold was not born in the U.S. so it is not like he could ever be President or anything like that, right?!
Let him win the election and give some funny speeches peppered with Hollywood cliches! It makes for great Leno/Conan entertainment for the next few years, right?!
HaHAHAHAhA! So Funny!
Well, jokes on all y’all because my friend J. brought it to my attention that this past July, Your Favorite Mormon (besides Donny Osmond, that is) Sen. Orrin Hatch began gunnin’ for a constitutional amendment that allows foreign-born citizens to be eligible for Presidential Election.
If this goes through, Kindergarten Cop might have a shot at the White House.
Seriously, people. It is too much.
I swear to God, if this happens I am personally heading west to whoop-ass for answers!
Moving on …
Damn. Today was rough. And I don’t mean that in a lost-my-job, gonna see if I can get an entry level crack-whore-gig-to-pay-the-rent before I wind up living-in-a-cardboard-box-with-my-three-kids kind of way.
Because a. I do not have three kids, let alone you know, any kids and b. I can guarantee you I am not cut out for life as a crack whore and c. well, yeah, I still have my job which d. allows me to live in all of my 400 square foot glory of the studio apartment I rent.
But damn, I was fighting everything today. Very stressful at work. It was just how it all went down.
So all in all I guess I meant that initial “it was rough” comment in kind of a middle-class-whiney-way, and that’s just annoying so I am just going to have to stop it. Stop it. Right there.
Because the good news is: I finally got to hire a new writer at work and she starts Monday, which means after some commando orientation, some of my workload will decrease.
Ahh, sweet relief!
Plus, I am kind of over the stress anyway; I took a five-mile walk after work at a very aggressive and angry pace, which took much of the fight out of me. And that’s good, ‘cause I was feeling scrappy.
But lord knows the hilarity I always encounter on a good walk. Like, the guy who was bogarting all of the free doggie poop bags conveniently provided on the-honor-system-dispenser by the city to keep the parks and paths doggie-crapless? Seriously, the guy took handful after handful. He was walking along the river path with his two kids and wife and the tiniest dog you ever did see. Not that I like to talk about feces, but c’mon, NO WAY did his itty-bitty dog ever DO as much DOO that necessitates that many doggie bags. I mean, not EVEN on a bad way-too-many-Snausgages ™-day could that dog cause that much carnage. This Family Man was obviously trying to take advantage of the complimentary-bag-situation and make-off with his own personal-for-backyard-walks bag-stash.
This became very clear after he saw me walking by catching him red handed with his big stack o’ bags and his wife said something to make up for it like, “Oh Carl! We don’t need that many bags!” and he was all, “oh! You never know! She’s already gone twice!”
Ick, People. Your VERY LOUD for-the-benefit-of-strangers public discussion of your doggie bowel movements pretty much tells me you are just trying to get away with something. So, please. Just stop it. Stop it right there. And I promise not to turn you in - or start yelling uncontrollably about how my tax dollars are paying to literally clean up your domestic shit. Okay?
Though, now that I think about it, that would have been totally funny. Something to consider next time.
In another story of Domesticity Gone Bad – this weekend, was beautiful. So, I took advantage and sprawled out on a park-bench to get a little sun-kissed and read a book.
Lots and lots of people wandered by, including a hoard of children (okay there were only 3 little boys, probably about five years old) that decided to stop right in front of me and engage in a spontaneous group cousin-hug.
I know this was a cousin-hug because one of the little boys announced “cousin hug!” and so they kinda kept walking and mass huddled into this hug stumbling along and it was actually a little bit cute because it was all spontaneous and genuine, these little boys out enjoying the day with their cousin-friends.
It was kinda nice. That is until some relative in the hoard of adults following the little boys realized she did not have her digital camera ready so she could not just be happy with the moment as it was, but she needed to capture the now-over moment for her wicked scrap-book you just know she keeps and so after the little boys had moved on to other things she started yelling, “Tucker! Tucker! Hug your cousins again! Tucker! Do! It! Now! I want a picture, Tucker! HUG!”
So much for spontaneous love.
Look, I had about a half-dozen other little anecdotal little ditties I’d scribbled down to share, but I now have a monster headache because of the WRECKING CREW that has decided to rip up the road in front of my apartment. Jesus diesel trucks dumping gravel at 11:00 at night are loud. And the diesel fumes wafting through the window (replacing the previously-wafting gentle fall breezes) are really starting to make me angry.
And so before the toxins make me go all Hulk on you, I will wish you all a gentle goodnight.
Except for you Californians. We… we need to talk a bit.