Divine Graffiti

I went to sleep with ick on my tongue after reading another great news story about Barak Obama in Newsweek and now there’s ick on my hair and when I got out of bed this morning I dropped my sweater in the sink while there was toothpaste in the bottom and I could tell it was going to be a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad campaign day. 

At breakfast, I found another great Hilary story on the news. My son found a cool Sponge Bob sticker in his breakfast cereal box and my daughter couldn’t open her eyes long enough to eat her breakfast cereal. No Child Left Behind has these kids exhausted from taking tests. My breakfast cereal bowl is empty. At $4.00 a gallon, we can’t drink milk.

I think I’ll move to Australia.

In the car pool lane, some guy honked at me cause I drive a big SUV and guzzle gas at 12 MPG. He might have made rude hand gestures. The Prius in front of me had a license plate that read MPG-50. Good for him! He can’t fit in the seat…but GOOD FOR HIM!  The other Prius I saw had a plate that read BOO OPEC! I like that one. I said I was getting hot. I said I was getting mad. I said I was getting smushed between OPEC, George Bush, Digital Cable and reality shows! I said, GET A GRIP PEOPLE!! No one even answered.

I could tell it was going to be a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad campaign day.

At work my boss liked my secretary’s idea for cutting costs and going greener by emailing customers instead of snail mailing them better than he liked my idea for cutting costs and going greener by working two days a week instead of five. At lunch time, he thought I ate too many carbs. At break time he wouldn’t let me take a break and at quitting time he wouldn’t say goodbye. Who needs goodbye?

I could tell it was going to be a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad campaign day.

I could tell, because after work, I counted 42 McCain signs in one front yard, and 67 Obama signs down by the Mission and 76 Hilary signs on the highway. Ron Paul had a couple crumpled, wrinkled paper flyers near the mall too. I don’t know what he looks like, but they like him in Australia. I said, When will all these stupid signs die? I said, I don’t care who wins, I want my TV back. I hope you sit on a tack, I said to all four of them. That way I could really tell who the real person running for president was. You can’t sit on a tack without a good reaction. I hope the next time you eat a triple, double, single watt taco at a restaurant in Arkansas while you’re campaigning away, the taco part falls off and lands in Australia.

There were six solicitations for Credit Cards in my mailbox and my husband got a call from a creditor in India and my mother said she can’t retire cause Social Security ran out yesterday. Guess who forgot to pick up the kids at day care today?

It was a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad campaign day.

That’s what it was, because after supper my husband said we had to move. Our mortgage payments can’t be made and the sheriff will be here tomorrow. The sale is Saturday, so I better clean. I hate to clean. Call me tomorrow and we’ll fix it said Countrywide. Yeah, right, I said.  Tomorrow, I said, I’m moving to Australia.

On the way to bed, the phone rang and some lady in Minnesota asked me if I was voting for Obama. I’m moving to Australia I said. She hung up. Maybe I’ll vote for Hilary. I started crying because the phone bill is too high, the oil prices are killing my budget and I want to go on vacation in my gas guzzling SUV. My best friend called me a crybaby and when I was punching her for saying crybaby, a cop showed up and served me with papers that said my electric, cable, phone and water was shut off cause I can’t afford to live here anymore.

I’m having a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad campaign day, I told everyone. No one even answered.

Hilary said nothing about my oil bill except she’d give me $30 this summer for gas.

Obama said she was nuts and I should just suck it up.

McCain says nothing about nothing and just dittos every remark Bush makes.

Ron Paul needs some new signs and a TV ad.

So then we went to the grocery store to buy some food. Joey wanted Salmon, Cindy wanted Ice Cream and Junior wanted Brie. I can’t buy those things. The salmon doesn’t run anymore, we’ve killed their water way. Ice Cream takes milk and that’s too expensive and Brie….what four year old wants Brie? We bought cereal. They sell that in Australia.

They can make me buy it, but they can’t make me eat it.

When we picked up my drycleaning they told me they couldn’t get all the stains out. They said to leave them alone; they’re busy going out of business. I was careful as could be except for my mouth which yelled at them for selfishly taking care of themselves, when consumers like me can’t stand to do laundry! My husband said don’t go there anymore.

It was a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad campaign day.

There was nothing but take out for dinner and I’m sick of take out.

Fifty versions of Law and Order on Tv and I hate murder.

My bath didn’t happen and I got a bug in my eye when I took out the trash for the guy who might show up if the township renewed his contract. I had to wear my flannel jammies to bed again cause we can’t afford the heat bill and I hate my flannel jammies.

When I went to bed I couldn’t sleep. My husband told me to chill out and not worry. The sheriff’s a really nice guy after all.

The dog wants to sleep in the hallway, not guard the door.

I’m going to write in Jesse Venturea.

My dad shook hands with Obama today. He’s so excited he doesn’t want to wash his hand.

I said, Dad, some days are like that.

Even in Australia.

 This post is satirical in nature and not intended to offend. The book I reference has been my favorite children’s book for over a decade and I own multiple copies. I apologize to the publishers, authors and readers for any violations they may feel I have committed.

I am simply frustrated with our current political campaigns and had to let it out in a way that I felt might make it humorous, light hearted and simply real.