The Write Way

Today is election day. I know, you probably hadn't noticed.  Personally, I am excited for all of the campaigning and ads to stop. Then I can go back to my ad free life watching The Hills.*  But before that happens, voting must occur.  So, I have decided to write myself in as candidate for President of the United States of America.  Why not? I think I have the experience.  After all, I was President of a group at law school.  And, I was actually a successful write in candidate for student representative my first year.  That's a winning combination if I ever heard one.  Let me take you back about 9 years or so....

We were in the middle of a full fledged campaign for student something or another at school. There were probably about four candidates for the spot in our class although I only remember two of them and for two reasons.  First, they were my friends (yes both of them).  Second, they were running on a platform together although there was only one spot...and only one of them could win...so technically they were running together, but against, each other. Confusing, I know.

In the midst of all of this confusion, a few people remarked that I should have put my bid in for the spot.  The more remarks were made, the more I thought they were right. Why wasn't I running?  Well, alas, it was only two days before election.  Too late to do anything but ponder what could have been.  However, someone wiser than me, an upperclassman, suggested I should be a write in candidate. After researching and getting a permission slip or something, it was approved.  But how does one go about becoming a write in candidate - how do you get the word out?

Campaign posters were out.  We were told that I could put them up but the other candidates made such a stink that I modestly declared they "weren't necessary."  For the next two days, I and my upperclassman friend, proceeded to spread, via word of mouth, my message. That message consisted of "elect me" or something equally benign yet clever.  Word quickly spread like fire. Why, I don't know. Everyone wanted me to win, although perhaps not my opponents. The day of the election was upon us and we did not stop campaigning.  In fact, I sat by the election table introducing myself to everyone.  My opponents - the together yet against each other team - despite being my friends** did not trust me so they, too, sat by the table.  After a long hard day/night, the tally was in.

I won.

Yep - I, a write in candidate, two days before election, with no signs, won. Victory.  The power was ALL mine.  Never had I been so successful, wanted something so badly, that I took it and seized it, trampling foes and friends alike in my thirst.  I was riding high.

Until my first meeting.  That is when I realized being a representative was annoying as hell. All anyone did was bitch and moan and nothing good happened.  Victory quickly became lackluster enthusiasm which dwindled to pure hatred.

I imagine that might be what it is like to be elected President of the United States.  At least, that is what I will tell myself when my write in candidacy campaign fails.

UPDATE: Another candidate has declared his write in candidacy. He may win on cuteness alone.

*Yeah I like mindless TV. Who doesn't?

**Not much of a friend was I? Running against them like that. However, how could they even explain their dual platform for a single election? So puzzling.

A Date with Civic Duty

B and I do not spend enough time together. We rarely go on "dates." That all changed the other night, however.  We decided to break from the mold and go on a "date" to our city's planning commission meeting.  You read that right. We decided to go to one of those boring city meetings that they tape and then play on some obscure local channel late at night. Sadly, I wish I could tell you that this was my first such meeting. It was not.  However, it was the first time B and I decided to do it as a couple.  

The first meeting I was sent to on my own.  The subject of that meeting was a new bank going in next door to our condo building.  Everyone was up in arms about noise and lighting and whether there would be a wall.  So up in arms that no one was going to go to the meeting to inquire about these things. I had to go. I was not even up in arms!  To be fair, B wanted to go but had to work. So I went as his spokesperson and the spokesperson for the whole condo association who I believe were all sitting on their asses while I suffered through a 3 HOUR MEETING to ask whether lights would be shining into our eyes while we tried to sleep. Seriously.  The bank had to be the last thing on the agenda.  And though I made many new friends, most of them elderly, I decided that would be the LAST of those meetings I went to ever.  

Until the other day when we got not one, but three letters from the city about numerous items that all involved things within 300 feet of us! What was all of this? How did this rezoning affect us? What were they going to do with that old building behind us? WOULD WE GET A NEW WALL? These were our questions, B and I.  We scoured the letter written in strange planning commission language (apparently missing the website address that would surely have answered our questions) and decided that we HAD TO GO TO THAT MEETING.  Much like my newly found elderly friends, we grumbled and crustily marked the date on our calendar. It was a date, just like that. How romantic.

This meeting was so much worse than my first.  And, after two hours, we discovered that none of it really affected us at all. AFTER TWO HOURS.  God help me.  I also found out that one Doris Blake (not her real name) has TOO much time on her hands. She spent precious minutes inquiring about everything and asking questions that were not even supposed to be asked in this meeting.  Sadly, I forgot we were being televised.  I really hope Ms. Doris Blake does not watch it on her local TV channel.   For she will see me rolling my eyes, making faces and sighing heavily.

The same goes true for unknown man who decided to stand up for EVERYONE. He had no particular stake in anything, but that did not stop him. How would this affect such and such company financially? Do you see such and such company here?? If they do not care, why do you?  Thankfully, he got bored and left.

Then there was the architect. B and I had high hopes for him. After all, he was wearing a suit.  But this just proves that you cannot judge a book by its cover. That guy was a fool.  Literally. He was cracking jokes left and right. None of them funny or even appropriate considering he was there representing a bar owner who was attempting to get some plans approved. When the board states that your lights should not be more than 50 watts and then asks how bright they are? Saying 750 watts is not funny.  Nor is betting them a box of donuts.  Or a case of beer.  

My favorite part of this night was when the owner of one of the restaurants was up there speaking. B looked over to me with THE most serious expression on his face and said:

That place...

is...

a...

DUMP

I almost peed myself laughing.  Hope that guy doesn't watch the televised version either.  B went on to say that it was the sleaziest looking restaurant and that it looked like a massage parlor.  He is right.  It does.

After suffering through two hours of the meeting, realizing none of it had any affect on us, receiving a text message from heaven (or from my brother) that Fringe was a repeat and I wasn't missing anything, we decide to leave.  

Home sweet home. But not before B drove me around town so we could see (a) the bar where the improvements were going and (b) the sleazy massage looking restaurant.

We are such romantics.

Hollow Memories

I didn't do anything special on Halloween. Unless you count falling asleep on the couch at 9:30 and drooling all over myself as special. So sexy.  We never get any kids so we no longer buy candy or carve pumpkins.  Halloween used to be my favorite holiday but I guess I will have to love on that holiday more when we get our own house.  Condos are not conducive to Halloween festivities.

Speaking of houses, B and I decided to go see this house that was for sale in an area we have been dying to get into.  We are not quite ready to buy, but pretty close.  Of course, no one wants to buy our damn condo, but that is a whole other story.  Back to the house.  We get there and the people are still home. Normally that is not an issue but this house is going into foreclosure and the people are being forced out. I really do not want to look at them and be all "oh your house is wonderful" while they sit in a corner and cry or something.  The whole situation is just really sad.

Lucky for us, they did not want to subject themselves to that either. So they left with their dog for a walk.  B walked around critiquing the place, talking about updates, what to do here, what to do there.  I walked around and asked things like "how much do they owe?" "where are they going to go" "they have a KID" "this is so sad."  We were quite the odd couple.

The house, although needing updating, was super sharp. It even had expansion opportunities in the third floor which I loved.  In addition to the kid, the people had a cat. He had his own bedroom. I named him Boots because he had all white paws. I am so original. Boots decided he liked us and was following us all around the house.   This led me to increasingly conversing with Boots.  It was an entirely one sided conversation.  When B decided we needed to see the back porch, I made sure to tell him to be careful not to let Boots outside.  

After perusing the back porch for a while, I open the door to go back in and Boots shoots like a bat out of hell straight out the door, across the porch, and about to go out a small square shaped hole conveniently sized for him. It might be his door but I do not know and surely am not going to be responsible for losing this family's cat seeing as they are losing their home and all. I yell "Grab that cat!"  Luckily B is super quick because he is a superhero. He grabbed the cat and we headed back inside. First crisis averted.

Before we left, we decided to look around the house one last time.  Up in the master bedroom, the windows looked inviting to B. They were really old windows and he wanted to see how they opened.  After a lot of work we got them opened and then discovered we COULD NOT GET THEM CLOSED.  It was puzzling.  We tried the same way he opened them, no luck. We tried brute force, no luck. Finally we discovered you had to push something in to get them to move. Success! But then they wouldn't close all the way. I informed B that my side had to go in first. It took us about 10 minutes to make that happen. Meanwhile Boots was hanging out in our faces. B tried to ask Boots how to shut the window, but the cat remained silent.  After much aggravation, and a little worry on my part, we managed to wrestle those windows closed. Second crisis averted.* After a high five of victory, it was time to leave.

On the way home we decided to drive past my old place.  It was where I lived when I first met B.   Imagine my surprise when it was GONE.  This is a nice old neighborhood. They tore down that house and a few others to put up this misplaced, very new, crazy looking townhouses in the middle of the block. Makes no sense. I told B I was sad because they grazed my memories, especially of the best Halloween EVER.

When I lived there, because the neighborhood was so old and considered somewhat upscale, we would get HUNDREDS of kids trick or treating. It was great.  I, along with my upstairs neighbor and friend, sat outside to pass out candy.  Three funny things happened that night:

1.  The chubby girl next door to us was dressed as a princess with a long blonde wig. She was about 6 and thought she was "hot stuff."  As she passed a boy coming up our walk way, she flipped her wig hair and said "Alex" all hot stuffy like.  Alex looked at her like he despised her and said "ANGELA" in the most despising condescending voice that could come out of a six year old.  He was not fooled by her disguise. I had to hide my face, I was laughing so hard.

2. Two boys came trick or treating. One was wearing a costume and the other was not. My upstairs neighbor said to the costume-less kid "wow, you couldn't even bother to wear a costume." And that kid, with complete seriousness and in the most pitiful voice I have ever heard, said to her "mom could only afford one costume this year and HE got to wear it."  I turned to my neighbor and said "good job!"  She felt crappy and practically dumped her whole bowl of candy in his bag.

3. Last, but definitely not least, was my favorite trick or treater - the 60 year old drunk woman with no costume on and a plastic CVS bag.  Are you kidding me? She weaved her way up to our porch, shouted "Trick or Treat" and just opened her bag.  Despite my inclination to fall on the ground laughing or to inquire as to her costume, I decided to just give her extra candy. Heck, if she needed it THAT bad, she was welcome to it.

I guess my memories were not grazed at all.  But I really loved that house I lived in for one year, five years ago.  And, for me, that is saying A LOT.  Just ask any of my family and friends who had to change their address book every 6 months to a year.

* I didn't tell B, but I was about to leave those windows, get in the car and go home. The owners should know how to shut their own windows, right?