First we were like this:
Yay, election! We are going to refudiate the crap out of this!
But then they were all:
And we were all:
And then it occurred to us that teabagging is currently untreatable in any form by Glaxo-Smithkline. One of us takes big guns crazy pills, and if *we* find the tea party to be a bit tetched, where does that leave reality? I hope our real overlord, Galaxar, can sort this one out. Until then, we’ll be totally:
The more a republican landslide is predicted, rx the more it is repeated. It is not just a snowball, ed it is an abominable snowman. Nothing is certain at the moment, troche apart from the basic fact of our impatience and anxiety. We are dyiiiing to know if that limburger-head Sharron Angle is going to oust that wretched weasel, Harry Reid.
And what about PANTS? Make no mistake we are in favor of gladrags, a spiffy trouser, a pantaloon. We dance dance dance for pants, pants pants! But as the last years have shown us, the world is full of terrible, awful people. People who do not agree with us!
Well, my little bedbugs, I finally voted, drooling and running my sticky paws all over the delicious croquembouche that is American democracy. I wore new boots to do it! In keeping with this year’s theme of crazy as well as in the spirit of sartorial exuberance, I also made sure to wear my ostrich fascinator and my pantaloons made from the softest weasel.
Voting was a fantastic experience, apart from seeing everyone else voting. I did not get a blister.
It is important to be well-appointed when one votes. It is also important to only vote for attractive people, but they are so few and far between that this cannot be a hard and fast rule. They sure do remember A Child down at the votertorium, though. She is always complimented on her footwear. At least I am raising her right in one small aspect of life. Perhaps she is bigger since the primaries. Imagine that!
I voted against many terrible people, and vaguely for some less terrible people. Remember when this stuff was fun? I am going to have a lie down.
While Licketysplit is out voting her conscience on lunch and possibly other civic matters, we decided to torture ourselves by looking over the election maps. And we used to like the color pink!
We are hoping for the best, but it seems like everyone is expecting nightfall to bring us a new Speaker to represent the lollipop guild.
Now, I am not on the cheerleading squad for Obama or the dems. Guantanamo is still holding persons who have not been charged with anything, the wars roll on, and the executive branch continues to use the constitution for toilet paper whenever the coffee filters run out. That’s usually when the rest of us get off our cans and go to the store! For their part, the democrats are a spineless bunch of corporate bumkissers apart from Dennis Kucinich. But the GOP will certainly find ways to make everything worse, and so we find ourselves caring about it, anyway.
We did hear one piece of good news. Hemorrhage money though she would, it seems that Meg Whitman is toast for the governorship of California. One small step for sanity, one giant leap…also for sanity.
Foccacia? Avocado muenster? Have you spent the whole of this recession beneath a mud mask? It is no wonder our ideas are being rejected, viagra who can afford such fancypants notions in these times? I urge you to consider a center-left approach to lunch, and order a turkey sandwich.
Jeezley creezley, Lambchop. Jump the gun much? I cannot possible hold the fate of democracy in my hands before I have had a restorative sandwich! Right now I am not sure which sandwich to have, so I could be a while.
Please help me vote for a sandwich. Do I wish to have smoked salmon with cream cheese and chives on a lightly toasted focaccia, or do I wish to have an avocado-muenster melt with maybe some sprouts and tomato? Â Or should I get completely looney tunes and go for tomato soup, instead? And maybe just the idea of a grilled cheese sandwich to go with that! I don’t want anything fattening. Do you think there will be a bake sale at the polls? Because I could hold out for a Rice Krispies treat.
Hang on, I have to field some political phone calls. Rudy Giuliani keeps calling me and yelling “9-11!” and hanging up. I am not sure what he wants.
7 a.m., i put on my helmet and prepared for the worst. My last few elections in New York City, I was still pulling the lever, old timey-style. In a booth with a curtain, like my mother used to take me when I was 7, and I could run out crowing “I votered!” and terrorize poll workers for lollies. Unfortunately, I think I “votered” for Ronald Reagan, but do not hold this against me. Ronald Reagan, Ronald McDonald, just gimme my damn lolly!
This would be my first election with filling in ovals and hanging Chad. Or hanging someone, whoever they could find. Predictably, it was chaotic. The incorporation of pen and paper into the transaction meant extra folding tables, more lists with your name on them, and more workers. But somehow fewer brain cells. A middle aged couple lined up in front of me to receive their ballots and were repeatedly asked, “are you voting together or separate? Together or separate?” by the lady handing out the ballots. For here or to go? Can I help whose next?
At any rate, it is done, DEMOCRACY SERVED UP HOT N FRESH.
We’ll be checking in throughout the day to see how democracy is faring. Maybe in 2010, maybe in our time machines. Whatever seems less depressing.
Your breathless correspondent has thrown out her back. Do not ask how. The answer is undignified for both of us.
I believe this officially entitles me to some ObamaCare! Which means, what, exactly? I’ve heard the term, and I haven’t bothered to figure out what the dilly is. One hears things, and one nods along, and then one is like…what…? Just today, a child asked me to explain what a Three-6 is. A member of Three 6 Mafia? Something to do with pimps? Don’t ask me, I just have a car radio, which is never getting turned on again. I thought I was doing so well with covering 808 and several urbane and even witty possibilities for the identity of a G-6, and then she tries to stump me with Three-6.
So, in short, ObamaCare means we can’t have nice things, but we’re damn well going to try, and I am going to take a leftover prescription pill that is only close to expiring but not actually expired. Or some truly expired yet still piquant sizzurp. Cripes. This really hurts! Typing makes it worse. Each right-handed letter an agony. You love it.
