You're stupid and nobody likes you.
Those who know me laugh when they hear that someday I'd like to enter politics. I'm dead serious. I see no reason why I couldn't be the mayor of New York City someday. President? Not so much. The bulk of middle America would vote for me just about as much as they did for Kim K on Dancing With The Stars, but mayor - I could be mayor.
I am motherf$ckin' New York. I'm the daughter of an immigrant, I'm known to guidette it up upon occasion. I've got Bay Ridge on lock. I graduated from NYU, because that's what all the cool kids do. I'm enrolled at an Ivy League for grad school. I'm an entrepreneur. I'm also broke, but when I make my fortune, I'll be sure to remember being broke so I can relate my stories of hot sauce and popcorn to my minions while on the campaign grind. I'm totally willing to court scandal. I'll leak a sex tape to TMZ with my (at present non-existent) husband, then act all defiant and indignant when on Larry King, as I smirk into the camera. And I'm much cuter than Bloomberg. Or Guliani. Or Dinkins.
I can play the game. But then there's the little problem of me hating people.
Not all people.
Some. A lot. About half, maybe?
Just as within every type, I have a type of which I'm fond, within every type, I have a type that I loathe.
As I watch the presidential debate and see the people asking questions of the candidates, I can't help but marvel at the way (both!) candidates are handling themselves. I could field the Tom Brokaw questions pretty well. I respect Tom Brokaw. We're homies, I allow him into my apartment occasionally when I'm attempting to make some Giada or Rachael Ray-sanctioned meals. But the second one of the common folk comes up to the mic to ask a question, I can see myself, twitching...sucking teeth.... involuntarily shouting:
"Shut up, you're not smart enough to know what's good for you so go back to your seat and don't question me."
"And your mother told me to tell you that you're adopted."
Kinda defeats the purpose of a town hall forum debate, no?
I am motherf$ckin' New York. I'm the daughter of an immigrant, I'm known to guidette it up upon occasion. I've got Bay Ridge on lock. I graduated from NYU, because that's what all the cool kids do. I'm enrolled at an Ivy League for grad school. I'm an entrepreneur. I'm also broke, but when I make my fortune, I'll be sure to remember being broke so I can relate my stories of hot sauce and popcorn to my minions while on the campaign grind. I'm totally willing to court scandal. I'll leak a sex tape to TMZ with my (at present non-existent) husband, then act all defiant and indignant when on Larry King, as I smirk into the camera. And I'm much cuter than Bloomberg. Or Guliani. Or Dinkins.
I can play the game. But then there's the little problem of me hating people.
Not all people.
Some. A lot. About half, maybe?
Just as within every type, I have a type of which I'm fond, within every type, I have a type that I loathe.
As I watch the presidential debate and see the people asking questions of the candidates, I can't help but marvel at the way (both!) candidates are handling themselves. I could field the Tom Brokaw questions pretty well. I respect Tom Brokaw. We're homies, I allow him into my apartment occasionally when I'm attempting to make some Giada or Rachael Ray-sanctioned meals. But the second one of the common folk comes up to the mic to ask a question, I can see myself, twitching...sucking teeth.... involuntarily shouting:
"Shut up, you're not smart enough to know what's good for you so go back to your seat and don't question me."
"And your mother told me to tell you that you're adopted."
Kinda defeats the purpose of a town hall forum debate, no?
posted by The Daughter of Isis | 9:17 PM
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2 Comments
