hot coffee girl

The shit has been slung. The bad media wars are in full swing. Ah, the smell of Election is in the air.

Well, get out the Febreeze, folks. Because the winds of change are blowing. It’s a little late in the game, but we have a few days left. There is still time to make a difference.

Which is why I have decided to make the following announcement. I am running for office.

That’s right…Hot Coffee for Supreme Ruler.

Over the next few days…nay, right up until you run to the booth and cast your hanging Chad, I will be talking about the issues that matter. No, not the ones that you are thinking of. The ones that really matter. All the politicians are talking about taxes and war and choice and all of that crazy shit. Not me. I want to talk about the stuff that you really want to hear. The issues that need to be addressed that no one else will. Come one, admit it. No one cares about the Big Issues. You want to see the death penalty implemented for people who drive 45 mph in the passing lane. You want to see use of those Bluetooth earpieces outlawed. You want to bring back the K car. I know. I feel your pain. Because I am in touch with the American voters. I know you want tax rebates for Starbuck’s purchases. I know you want a Family Leave Act that gives you time away from your family. I know, sweet reader. I know.

I promise that I will not promise you Big Things. Instead, I will focus on fixing the Petty Shit. Because that’s what matters most.

Stuff I miss about being a kid:

• Trick or Treating with your Dad trailing close (but not too close) behind. Then going home and spreading out all of the candy on the floor before trade negotiations began with my brother.  ("I'll trade you three Bazookas and one Tootsie Pop for that Kit Kat." ... "Okay, but not root beer flavored, okay?")
• Jumping in a pile of leaves taller than you are and being swallowed up by that crunchy, fall smell.
• Pink Erasers.
• Cheering for your high school football team and then going to the Homecoming bonfire after the game.
• Playing for fun...not exercise or transportation. ("Hey-wanna go ride bikes?" ... "Sure!")
• Stretching the phone cord all the way across the kitchen so you could talk to That Boy in Private. Then calling all of your girlfriends to repeat every word that was said.
• Pizza Day in the Cafeteria.
• Notebook paper. Sharp pencils. Homework. Trapper Keepers. Book covers made out of brown paper bags.
• Stuffed animals. My pink canopy bed.
• Not worrying so much all the time.
  

Happy Halloween.

When I got home from seeing Marie Antoinette last night, I saw that the dog had pissed on the floor.

Guess which one was the highlight of my evening?

I refuse to bitch about a movie for the third time in as many weeks. That’s not what you come here for. (Although if I did, then Timmy could comment and you could call us the Fat Guy and the Other One.)

But, I digress.

She managed to pee on the one small carpet that sits in the middle of the living room.

All hardwood floors in a somewhat sizable place, and she chooses this spot. As I was scrubbing the floor, I thought about good old Marie…and how she might not have ever said, “Let them eat cake”…but surely, she never scrubbed dog pee out of a carpet. It was then that I decided that I would like a full household staff to attend to these gross details. While I’m at it, I would like the full entourage that goes along with being the Queen of France. You know, the Ladies in Waiting…all that good stuff. We could gamble and eat and drink and stay up until dawn at masked balls just like Kirstin’s character. We could shop for shoes and clothes by making the designers come to us. We could have excellent parties. And no dog pee.

Man, that rug really tied the room together.

They are taking over the apartment.

They are lurking in every corner. They are in the living room. The bedroom. On the staircase. I heard that some of them have made it as far as BG. In exchange for a beer, Snog has at least one. They have crept south to Parma, as I know Ali at least has one or two. Rumor has it that Adam has one stashed away. My Grandma paid me a quarter for one. Hell, even my parents...my brother and his fiance...they are all afflicted. We all share a common problem.

Terrible paintings.

Yes, it's time to admit it. They have been breeding for four months now, and they seem to have no signs of slowing. They are varied in their make-up. Some are oil. Some are acrylic. They all are awful. And they show no signs of slowing down.  But for as many as I have pawned off given lovingly to people (or exchanged for a quarter in Granny's case), I have to do something. They are seriously all freaking over this place, and it is getting hard to step without bumping into one. I have been threatened to be cut off from the art store until I can make some more space for the new ones that seem to be cropping up at a rate of 4 to 5 per week. (Hey, I may be terrible, but at least I am prolific.) Admittedly, the oils have slowed me down a bit...they take so much longer to dry. On a side note, turpentine can give you a nice little buzz, though.

I seriously don't know what to do with these little bastards. I highly doubt if any of the galleries here in the 'Mont would think it kitschy to host a Terrible Painting Exhibit. And I think Grandma might be out of quarters.

I am so screwed.