Sunday, February 26, 2017

February 26, 2017

Dear Diary,

Overall, this was a pretty busy day, with just about everything going wrong.  To begin with, those opioids Dr. Morell prescribed for me stopped me up for a whole week.  Then yesterday, with absolutely no warning, the alarm bell rang and I unloaded on the toilet with no mercy.  We had to call the plumber at nine last last night, because the place looked and smelled just like one of those Indian rivers they showed in "Slumdog Millionaire," where people take dumps in the same water they use to brush their teeth.  I'm assuming they do brush their teeth, right?  Hmmmm.  Anyway, there was water and poop all over the bathroom floor, and the plumber had to call in an assistant, who fainted dead out the minute he caught a whiff of the fumes.  Poor kid.  He was out cold for ten full minutes.

It was icky.  But they managed to dislodge what was clogging the pipe.  It turns out that hard drives aren't flushable, and "someone" apparently had tried to do just that a while ago.  Bessie's in there right now, mopping up the mess with a clothespin on her nose.  She's not too happy, but I keep telling her she's lucky to have a job and that if she thinks she can do better, we can stop paying her under the table and she can start paying taxes like everyone else.  That shut her up pretty quick.  Ungrateful.

Speaking of poop, I can't believe that the DNC actually elected Tom Perez over Keith Ellison to be the new leader of the Democratic Party. I knew both of those shitheads them back during the you-know-what and I can safely say that either would have been a good choice, but Ellison was always my man. Now there's your nuclear-powered Nazi, but he's black, so nobody will say anything about it.  Don't get me wrong, Perez is a smart choice, too, even though he's about as Latino as I am.  Give me a break.  He's got the right name, though, so I figure that if people will buy into Taco Bell as real Mexican, they'll give him a pass, too.  Leading the DNC is a thankless job, though.  We usually give it to someone we don't want in the important meetings who represents the future of the party.

To be truthful, I was always a big fan of Debbie Wasserman-Schultz when she ran the DNC.  That was before she got her tit caught in the ringer.  That was SO embarrassing.  I didn't want her to resign, because nobody threw a party like old Deb.  She'd have these "staff meetings" (that's what we called them) where everyone had to show up in a toga dressed as their favorite lesbian Greek goddess, and of course, we'd discuss all kinds of policies that affected world health and children.  Mainly we focused women's issues and to be honest, drank more than a few glasses of wine.  Tee Hee.  Personally, I never liked the way Debbie did her hair with all those ringlets, but most of the time I only saw the top of her head, so no big deal.

Well, the plumbers are gone, Bessie's cleaned up and Perez is the man.  That's a lot to happen in one day.  Just to be safe, though, I'm going to start using the dumper in the powder room.  That way, nobody can blame me.

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