Saturday, October 25, 2008
The Firm Butt and Red Velvet Cake
Lots of things happened since I blogged last:
I have my very first ever niece! Sweet lil Isabella is now almost 3 weeks old.
I stopped nursing due to a medication change in my PIH (Pregnancy Induced Hypertension) saga.
I decided that, after yesterday's turd and spillage, I was no longer the "cloth diapering" type of gal and am throwing in the towel.
We saw Sarah Palin today at a rally, and I am convinced I am never going to have her butt. You can bounce not one, not two, but I'm sure AT LEAST three quarters off of it. It is a butt I will never have, considering I had a burger and fries for dinner and there is a piece of red velvet cake waiting for me in the fridge (hellooooo, lovaahhhh).
I comment on her butt because that was the view we had, and that is, quite literally, all I saw.
A friend of ours delivered early on her "pastor's appreciation month" obligation and got us onstage for the Sarah Palin rally. She was wearing her hooker boots and trotted lil Piper out to tell us to "vote for her mom."
Before the rally started, a staffer handed out hand painted signs to us. Since we were directly behind Palin, we were to part of the "Iowa ***hearts***Palin" message. I was the heart, so I considered this to be an uber important job. Hubby was the "S." Our 7 year old also standing with us, was slighted and quite pissy for not getting a letter, and our 13 year old's job was to cuddle the six month old and to keep her from crying. For his efforts, he was pissed on when the diaper failed (which, due to the reaction to the leakage, could have been the worst possible thing to happen to a 13 year old. Ever. In the history of mankind.).
The "coolness" of holding the letters wore off in about, oh, sixty seconds. Because, not only were we obligated to hold them up above our heads when Palin came out, we had to hold them before she came out, as she walked out on stage, during her speech, and as she exited the stage. Needless to say, by then end of the deal, I felt as if I was holding an anvil. Of lead. My cheerfulness about the whole endeavor had worn off, not only due to the challenge of holding these things up for so long and so often, but also due to the comments of the people behind us, which went something like this:
"Put the signs down!"
"Signs down, please!" (Not said in the polite manner as it appears in print.)
"Put the damn signs down."
"How rude! Put those signs down!"
I wanted to turn around and point out the effeminate guy in the front row in the pink bow tie who was DIRECTING us to hold the "damn" signs up, that this wasn't an all out effort to block the views of Sarah Palin's ass to the unfortunates behind us.
Besides getting yelled at, a raging headache from the lights and the realization that I shouldn't have worn that white t-shirt under that black sweater because all I could see were **boobs, boobs, boobs** on television, it was a pretty good day.
At the end of this good day and as I was contemplating Sarah Palin's ass, I proceeded through the drive through of a local burger joint and ordered a burger with everything on it, a large french fry and a large (diet) Pepsi.