A day in the life ....

6:00 a.m. I wake up to CNN replaying Mr. Bush's message to the RNC from The Ministry of Truth. So much for falling asleep with the TV on.

6:01 a.m. I try to ignore the idiocy. Too late. Little White Canine has woken up and is yipping.

6:05 a.m. I roll out of bed (because that's what I do these days), try to flex my newly arthritic hands and fingers, bemoan the absence of Tylenol, and open a new can of chicken&rice. Because I'm a good doggie mama. Idiocy on TV still in progress.

7:00 a.m. Can someone remove Rudy Giuliani from my TV screen. Please? Also: Time to take a cold cold shower to quell the burning rage. And then a hot one, just so I can move my hands again.

8:00 a.m. Aaaah. Breakfast in the hotel, post-doggie-walk. Sarah Palin stares at me from the big screen TV, probably wondering if she can drill in my Raisin Bran. Or if I'm married enough to be pregnant.

9:30 a.m. Interesting developments on the job front. I may (45%) or may not (55%) be unemployed by the end of this month, depending on whether I can convince people that my Grandma's estranged nephew's hamster is really Aryan to the third degree. Or something like that. I kid you not.

10:00 a.m. Work, or what passes for it these days. Hey, what was that? Who kicked me in the ribs, and ... huh? Why the ribs? What happened?

10:01 a.m. Heartburn starts. Bagel with cream cheese won't cure it.

1:00 p.m. Telecon about how safe it would be to hire me into a job closer to actual stuff that could blow up. Like rocket propellant. Have I determined by now whether Grandma's estranged nephew's hamster comes from an Aryan bloodline? And if not, am I ready to renounce all rights to my firstborn? I answer no and hear harrumphing on the other side of the line. The company likes babyflesh.

1:30 p.m. I show up in Mr. Bluehair's office asking whether he's doing my contract continuation paperwork, so that I don't have to be unemployed by the end of this month. Which is when he'll be in Hawaii. I get the stinkeye and "I'm working on it" as an answer. Does anyone have Tums?

2:30 p.m. I fill out a 3-page security questionnaire in which I'm being asked about said hamster's sperm count, I think. And this is just the pre-screening. The real paperwork might actually come with a polygraph test. I feel special. And someone just set fire to my esophagus. But hey, my fingers move!

3:00 p.m. I read the pregnancy countdown at Alphamoms. Apparently, this is the week for some babies to turn from breech to face down. Which would explain the kicks in the ribs.

4:30 p.m. I swear there's a litter of kittens spazzing in my tummy. What the hell did I do to deserve this? Maybe a banana will help the heartburn. I hit the "send" button on the email with the three-page form attached.

5:30 p.m. I walk into the hotel's happy hour room. Quesadillas! OJ! Little chocolate cakes of unknown origin! A cure for the commmon heartburn?

5:31 p.m. A cluster of middle-aged, Heineken-slugging, ex-military white guys across the room talk about how McCain is God and Obama should become the president of Kenya. Or France. For a moment, I look at my serrated knife and consider slowly slicing their nutsacs open. But then I'd have to get another one for my taquitos. Which would cause me to spew fire because my stomach apparently won't be bribed with food. Hey, where did my mini-burrito go?

6:00 p.m. A crowd of kids is bunching around the table next to me, munching on free quesadillas, taquitos, and burritos (they're really *all mine*) and sipping the free booze (not all mine). None of them is older than 19 or 20, maybe 22, but they talk about the benefits of why it's called rose and not pink wine (bumpkins!). Dude with Paris Hilton sunglasses just asked other dude whether his shirt is hand-tailored. They also giggle a lot and take pictures of each other. I wonder if they can see the occassional bulge sticking out of my tummy. I need Tums.

6:50 p.m. Sarah Palin to come on in about an hour. Must walk Little White Canine. And coat stomach with Tums. Urgently.

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Update:

In honor of the George McCain/ Palin ticket (and since Ree said she'd totally vote for me), I'd like, in the purest spirit of progressive Pentecostalism, to ask us all to pray, and pray hard:




And if anybody, ANYBODY, ever dares to question Obama's senate record or his experience again, get yourself ready by referring to his detailed legislative record. Or, if you need an overview, here ya go:

Lets really look at the experience comparison:

Obama:
B.A in political science from Columbia University, with a specialization in international relations
J.D. in Law from Harvard, graduated magna cum laude; President of the Harvard Law Review
12 years (92-04) teaching constitutional law
7 years State Senator: sponsored more than 800 bills
4 years Senator for Illinois, a state with 12.8 million people

Palin:
Bachelor’s in journalism from University of Idaho
4 years Wasilla City Council (8000 people)
6 years Wasilla mayor (8000 people)
1 year “Ethics Commissioner of the Alaska Oil and Gas Conservation Commission”
20 months governor of a state with 660,000 people

(h/t to clubs at C&L)

Must go to pharmacy now. Am out of Tums. And vodka.