Contact

The apartment I rent is currently being reroofed. It’s been a nightmare since day one when the roofers accidentally punched a hole in my bedroom ceiling. It’s definitely made for an interesting week.

My friend Maddie was in my living room changing her clothes when she noticed a man on my balcony. This was disconcerting for so many reasons, but number one being that he wasn’t watching her change. If there’s going to be a strange man standing on my balcony I want him there because he’s peeking in my windows and thinking to himself, “Damn that lady looks hot for 32!”

The noise level has driven my neurotic dog under my bed in an attempt to muffle the noise level. Last night, when trying to coax her out, I noticed she’s been hoarding items under my bed for safekeeping. The stuffed animals and dog bones I understood, but the roof shingles, rusty nails and gum wrappers didn’t make a whole lot of sense. I’m a tad curious to see what other objects the valley winds may blow into my bedroom before the hole is fixed. I’m hoping for a sexy man who cleans bathrooms and pours wine, but I’m worried the only man who could fit through the hole would be Dennis Kucinich. And as much as I love a Democrat in my bedroom, I’d have to pass.

When news of Patrick Swayze’s cancer broke I created a shrine on The Kid’s desk. He was less than pleased–he’s way too young to remember the importance of Dirty Dancing. To this day I still find ways to fit in as many quotes from the movie into daily conversation as possible.

The Kid retaliated, and did a mighty fine job of it! Looks like nobody puts The Kid in a corner.
As a reward for such great humor I’m not going to boss him around, or read useless Hollywood gossip to him for five whole minutes.

Dear Internet,

Please stop emailing me about Hillary Clinton. I read the news; I watch CNN; I refresh my Internet browser OCD style when it comes to news. With that said, I’m fully aware that Obama is rocking the nation. And guess what, dear Internet? That makes me happy.

I don’t have to explain my political views to you, but rather than reply to the 42 emails in my in box let me go ahead and do, just that, explain.

I’m a Democrat. A proud one. I grew up in a very conservative Republican home, so unlike some people I know, I picked my political party. I wasn’t raised a Democrat. I became one. A choice that I’m very proud of, so don’t give me shit.

I think Obama would make a fine president. In fact, I would be thrilled to see him in office. However, I voted for Hillary, because I am a woman. Like many women today, I remember growing up wondering why a woman couldn’t be President of the United States.

So, when finally a woman is on the ballot did you really think I’d not vote for her? I mean, really? I’m not a feminist by any means. I like men to do stuff for me. And not just in bed.

This is why I voted for Hillary Clinton, but would be just as happy at to have someone like Obama running our country. He bring passion and not just a last name. Plus his wife is pretty hot.

So back off, would ya?

Love,
Sarah

I almost changed my vote to Obama because Andrew Shue (Billy Campbell) from Melrose Place was backing him, but then I came to my senses and remembered Melrose Place is and never will be Beverly Hills 90210. Since Jason Priestly didn’t publicly back a candidate my vote for Hillary Clinton was safe.

It felt good for my vagina and myself to vote for a woman.

I love this post!

It reminds me of the great Hillary Duff incident of ’06.

I was standing in line when the woman behind me commented on my Hillary ‘08 shirt, “Oh My God, I loooooove Hillary Duff. She’s coming in ’08? That’s so exciting!”

Had she been a kid I’d have gone along with her, but she was a middle-aged woman. She should have known better. “No, this is a Hillary Clinton shirt. You know the Hillary who isn’t twelve?”

I could have been nicer, I guess, but I was just annoyed since that encounter wasn’t the first. In hindsight, I should have just bought the Duff shirt and been done with it.

When KCPW announced Jenna Bush would be in town for part of the station’s Forum Speaker Series, I mentioned it to Ben. He has a huge crush on both Bush sisters. And while I’m no fan of the Bush family I’m a huge fan of KCPW, so we went.

Bush spoke about her time in South American with UNICEF, reading from the book she wrote about a young woman she met who was born with HIV. During an especially moving moment Ben leaned over and asked, “I think her boobs are probably a C cup. What do you think?”

I hushed him, but it was useless. He didn’t listen to a word she said, instead stared at her boobs the entire time–only stopping long enough to tell me her poor-fitting skirt ruined his crush.

On the way home he informed me he’d be spending his time focusing on Barbara from here on out. He then called every family member in his phone to let them know his very liberal sister attended something that could be construed as pro-Bush.

My singing & dancing Bill Clinton doll lives atop my fridge, next to Daisy’s treat jar. The only time Bill dances these days is when I’m getting Daisy a treat and bump him.

The other day someone was over and pushed the button to see the song & dance routine. Daisy, who was asleep upstairs, nearly tumbled down the stairs rushing to get down. She sat in the kitchen and begged and begged until she was rewarded with a treat. My democrat minded pug doesn’t need a bell to stimulate conditioned response. She needs a Clinton –preferably Bill, as Hillary doesn’t seem like much of a dancer.