OK.
First of all, if you have the opportunity to go see Tamala 2010, you must do so. But whatever you do, don’t go sober. You won’t understand it at all. I still can’t decide if it’s a work of genius or complete crap, but that’s the beauty of it. Bertine swears I wasn’t the only one there in hysterics, but I think she might be lying to me. I really need the soundtrack, if only for that song about beer and chicken and snacks. In other news, my future-ex-husband Ben will be visiting me this weekend. He’s never been to Minneapolis, and I intend to make sure he enjoys the hell out of it. I hope he knows how to polka, and also shovel. So, my mom calls me every few days to give me the latest news, such as that Escobar got out of bed before 2pm yesterday, or that grandma had another long talk with grandpa even though he died over a year ago. Tuesday, she called to say that she and my dad had had a long talk, and had decided that of the four kids, I was the best bet for becoming president. Now, I tend to disagree here. I could easily make a list of ten lifestyle choices I’ve made that would prevent all but the very misguided from voting for me. Also, I have absolutely no interest in the incestuous, exploitative, bigoted world of politics. Not that I’m biased. I asked her for clarification. She said that Scott was too indecisive. Escobar, well… let’s just say he mostly plays video games. Stephanie would make for a good president, too, but she said the deciding factor was that I have much less of a conscience than she does. And I guess I can’t argue with that. I wanted to know why it was so important to them that one of their kids got to be president, when there are other far more valorous achievements, like the Nobel Prize, or People Magazine’s Most Eligible Bachelor. She told me it’s because you have to be really smart to get into the White House. Um, George W. Bush?? Gotta go, mom. Talk to you later.Jenni