"If the president is so serious about the war on terror, why doesn't he hunt down and capture Barack Obama before he strikes again?"-Jenna, 30 Rock
I went with Supermommy to the party on Saturday, and there's no easy way to say this, but she is an awful date. I mean I get she has 2 kids under the age of 4, but she also came with someone. All I am saying is that would have been nice if she had remembered that fact before she was home (and wondering about the car parked in her driveway). Luckily, it gave me a chance to talk politics with my dad and his gf on the ride back to my car. During the car ride we discussed universal health care and Hilary. I think we were both happy to reach my car and say goodbye.
We had already spoke of the upcoming elections earlier at the party when my dad announced he was pretty sure he was voting for Osama. That shocker made me spit my drink out so I could ask, "Don't you mean Obama?" Then he gave me the whatever look. He whatevered saying Osama instead of Obama. God help us all come election time.
I also overheard the b-day girl comment on the dessert choices. There are times when I want to be ignorant, and having my aunt compare her ice-cream to the big-O means I find my happy place. It was good ice-cream though (home made cookies and cream and the maker was generous with the oreos).
And last but not least I wore a new shirt to the party. I liked the color but thought it might make me look preggo (because it was was high waisted and loose, and I really have no waist). I will be damned if someone didn't keep looking at my stomach as we talked. And he kept asking how I was doing (as he looked at my stomach). Yeah, like I was going to freaking announce I was 9 months pregnant and oops my water broke. I wanted to be a bitch and maybe start sobbing about the horrors of facing impending single motherhood (and could he be so kind as to take me to the hospital and be my coach). Instead I walked away swearing to take the damn shirt back. Macy's might have taken it back too, if in the next instant I hadn't spilled a scoop of ranch dip on it. In trying to clean it off I just managed to spread the stain across my chest- then it just looked like I was pregnant and leaking. Swell. Now I will just look pregnant at my new job (because even though it is unflattering I won't waste the money). I like starting gossip my first week of work anyhow.
Unrelated to the party, a friend of mine (who is only 2 months older than my spry 28 years) called me Friday to tell me she is dating a 61 year old man, and she really likes him. As in he makes her heart happy, and when she is with him the age difference disappears. I have a tendency to get over-involved in my friends lives and I worry too much. So I made a vow a few months ago to just go with the flow and accept. When she told me this I just asked her to take a picture of him (so I could stop the image of her dating Santa or my dying grandpa). I have also had nightmares the last couple of nights in which I am being stalked by old homeless men (who have always been attracted to me), and I have to find a (young) strong protector. I don't need Freud to tell me that this latest news is freaking the hell out of me. But it is her life and I will try to work through my freak-out. It helps that I have a strong happy place (full of cookies and cream ice-cream).