The first black president of the United States of America!
It's noteworthy (and poignant) that the white house now embodies the triumph over generations of ugly prejudice and racism.
(You'll be happy to know that in order to keep this moment dignified I just deleted my joke about how this moment is far far bigger than B.O.)
Come what may in the future, at this moment I dearly wish I could give a high five (and a loving embrace) to the three black men I'm madly in love with . . . Martin Luther King, Jr., Jackie Robinson and hey, hey, hey, Fat Albert. (Now that's a real super hopeless romance because Fat Albert would never give a white girl like me the time of day (and the other 2 are happily married)).
It's probably all for the best about Sarah Palin. No Vice President should look that hot in a pair of jeans, anyway.
And now we get Michelle Onasis Obama! All grace and loveliness (plus a pinch of attitude.)
Okay, can we change the subject now? I have to tell you something really crazy. Remember when I was watching Everybody Loves Raymond in Spanish? Well last night I watched The Office in Spanish. I kid you not. I was watching it downstairs in English, but when I went upstairs it was on in Spanish! Same channel--tbs. Commercials--English, The Office--Spanish. (If there's a Spanish ghost in my t.v. I hope it's Ricky Ricardo.)
For the record no one on The Office is funny in Spanish either, except Dwight. He's stinkin' Hilarious.
And then Frank TV came on in English. But then after that Sex in the City came on in . . . Spanish! Upstairs. Downstairs--English (yes, I checked because I was thinking about Bink's spooky Andy Griffeth story). I've never seen Sex in the City before because we've always had BYU-H edited channels, but can I say that after watching the whole thing in Spanish I must concede that the city is a universal language. And what happens in the city, should stay in the city.
Okay, I'd like to spend some time on issues now. Some new peeps have emerged today on our show. One of them, Shawna says she stalks me once in a while. I just need to clarify something for her. Stalking is not a once in a while activity. Either you're committed or you're not. If you drop by every so often I will call you a provonian. Is that clear?
btw, kinda funny, I got my first 3 hits from Provo yesterday. I bet it's because I mentioned Glenn Beck. Silly Provonians.
Okay, on to Amanda She came right out, introduced herself and confessed her sins to me. She told me she did not get me at first glance. Nor at second glance. She mistook me for a cult leader who hypnotized my readers then led them to the compound in my comment box where I tickle tortured them against their will. Luckily she took my Moulin Rouge suggestion, drank some Code Red and got past the first 30 minutes. Now she's seen the light. She's in. She's waving her arms in the air like she just don't care. Let's all make her feel welcome, shall we.
I just hope she's ticklish.
Amanda, you probably didn't get me because you like to cook and I don't. I only like to cook when my in-laws are here because it's the only time I can tell my mother-in-law to get out of my way.
I probably should have told you guys right off the bat that sometimes I'm irreverent. And the other times I'm just irrelevant.
For those of you who are just joining us, let me explain the difference between this blog and other blogs. This blog is not about me. This blog is about YOU! This blog is about people who have super hopeless romances with staplers and old boats.
This blog is about crazy, bored, lonely Mormon mommies, hoity doity English teachers and long lost cousins who can sewl.
This blog is about mouthy lurkers and ho-hum stalkers and Pat. And Jami. And Mary. And Kristina P. And Alyson. And Shelle. And Annie and Jen. And my BBFF, Lisa. Oh, and Donny Osmond. And John Mayer.
It's about my almost-hot creative writing teacher and my drug addict dad. And soon it will be about my apostate brother. And my re-appearing best boy friend from high school. And my Food Land therapist.
This blog is about scattering sunshine, each and every day.
If you want a blog about me, uncut and decaffeinated, you'll have to wait until I'm finished grading all my research papers.
Anyway, let me end with some good news. I tied for 1st place in Shelle's contest, even though only 2 of you went over and voted after I asked you to. (Too late for your sticker, Jen. You could have been the deciding vote.) The only thing I'm worried about is you know how the tie always goes to the runner? I'm not a runner. I hope that honey mom I'm up against isn't a runner either.
Don't you think the tie should go to the tennis player? The tennis player with the Ovaltine dripping from her hair?