littleghettoblaster

We all know by now, they’ve called it for Barack Obama. America just elected their first black President. I don’t even have the right words for it. I’m beyond elated, joyous, happy. My eyes are a bit damp. I’m looking at pictures of record-breaking crowds in Chicago. I’m watching workers paint the electoral map on the ice rink at Rockefeller Center. I’m seeing Jesse Jackson with tears streaming down his face. I’m watching John McCain give his concession speech.

I’m not one for nationalistic waxing, but I’ve never been so proud to be American.

Also, Mom, you can keep your $5 on the Pres bet. We’ll see about Gregoire/Rossi though.

I fucking hate pollsters! The exit polling is bullshit and every TV channel wants to be the first one to call each state. So they jump the gun and you end up with shit like this:

Uhhh, 0% reporting, 55% for Obama, and they call it for McCain. HUH?

I hope all those people who said to me, “If KARL ROVE is calling it for Obama, it’s going to Obama,” are right.

Mom, I want crisp bills. If it goes the other way, you’re getting pennies. Dirty ones.

I mentioned the other day that I’m hoping my mom owes me at least $5 on Tuesday. Really, I hope it’s $10 and I know I might not get it until… later than tomorrow. (Man, I am getting nervous about tomorrow.)

I got the basics of my politics from my parents. Mom might lean even further left than I do. She’s a pessimist at times and she (somewhat secretly) likes to have fun. So, she bet my dad $5 that McCain would get elected as Pres, and $5 that Rossi would win Washington’s Gov spot. He took the bet.

She offered me the same deal. I took it, too.

Days Left Until My Mom Is A Grand Total Of $20 Poorer: 1

My dad relayed a conversation with my mom about the election. She told him, “I feel like a little kid on the night before Christmas.”

My dad answered her, “Because you don’t know if you’re gonna get that shiny new bike you really want*?”

“Exactly.”

From PostSecret (like Frank’s secret message with this one?):

And, of course the count down… Days Left Until I Cry Outta Sheer Joy: 2

^{*shiny new bike meaning Barack Obama getting elected}

Oops, yesterday got away from me. Not because it was Halloween, but because work is insanely hectic and I had very important social plans (eating at Kushibar with Bailee — Bai, I think I’m going back on the tongue decision. It tasted good, but I didn’t like the texture.).

For yesterday: Days Left Until My Sometimes Pessimistic Mom Will Owe Me At Least Five Dollars: 4

Days Left Until I Can Laugh Even Harder At All The McCain/Palin Propoganda: 3

Days Left Until I Can Start Breathing Again: 5

Now watch this (I got it from my dad):

Days Left Until We Start Seeing How Much Sense This Country Has: 6

The election is one week away. I already voted, but I’m starting to get more excited, finally. These Bush years have been hellish and oppresive and freaky and I am ready to be inspired by, or at least respect, our nation’s leader again. ONE WEEK LEFT. Well, it’s really more like a dozen weeks left, but y’nahmsayin.

Count Down: 7 days.

Tags: politics

I don’t believe that there is One Soul Mate Per Person in this universe. It just doesn’t work that way. But every now and again, the man and I come across yet another similarity that makes me wonder if maybe we were destined to be together.

His computer is on the fritz right now, and scarily ALL OF OUR MUSIC IS ON THAT MACHINE. (Side note: I recently tweeted that I think the robots are against us. This is another tally in that column.) We resorted to pulling out the big box with all of the CDs (and some of his old games) we still have. While digging through that mess, I came across a collection I haven’t touched in ages: Tori Amos (circa ’92-’98; maybe I should start up that obsession again…).

Luc didn’t have much exposure to her, but said he likes “weird piano music.” That works.

‘Boys for Pele’ is what I saw first, so it’s what I grabbed. We got to the point in ‘Talula’ where she sings, “goodbye to a glitter girl.” My face lit up: “Oh! You know how if you Google my college email, you get a result from my raver days? This song is part of where that Glitter Girl thing came from.”

“Whoa, weird. Did I ever tell you about my obsession with Glitter Boys?” he asked. Straight faced.

“… Glitter … boys … what?” I tease him about being effeminate from time to time, but I did not know where this was going. I never really thought he liked dudes, but was this going to be it? Was I about to find something out? He’d never listened to Tori though. It didn’t add up.

“Glitter Boys. From a cyberpunk tabletop game, Rifts I think. They’re these badass robot guys with big laser guns. I loved ‘em!” he was genuinely excited.

I laughed — of course, robots with guns, not some gay party boys I fantastically concocted in my head. He had the very straight glitter boy obsession, I had the kinda gay glitter girl obsession. But regardless of all that, we were both giggling at our glitter connection. Just another example of why we like each other: we’re so damn similar, but in weird little ways. Aquarians are a good match for Aquarians.