73 Days Left...

Obama still hasn't announced his VPee yet. I've texted him with my suggestion to fool everybody and pick Joe Lieberman. I'm waiting for him to get back. To balance my bet, I've been calling John McCain's various homes and leaving messages telling him to pick Hillary as his VPee. Couldn't you see McCain and Hillary jetting off to international flash points and leaving Bill and Cindy alone back home sitting around drinking Buds and eating pork rinds.

I am doing my last minute packing for the trip to Denver. I've got all the Hawaiian shirts ironed, a couple of new Che buttons and a case of Yukon Jack. Since the wife and I are driving out to Denver, she says we'll be leaving tomorrow morning at 5 AM sharp. With that in mind, I won't be able to spend a lot of time on today's journal entry. With luck, we should make it to the Grand Island, Nebraska Super 8 before supper tomorrow night. As always, we will be stopping at all the Happy Chefs along the way. We wouldn't have to stop so much, if the wife didn't drink so many Red Bulls. Although I must say it is interesting to listen her sing along to the Dead Kennedy's at full volume with all the windows down doing 90 miles an hour on a Nebraska blue highway.

The wife always drives on these trips. She says I drive too slow. Unlike most husbands, I was honest at the marriage altar. Instead of saying "I do," I said "whatever." After I slipped the ring on her finger, she handed me a "to do." After watching McCain and Obama do their religious tap dance in the Broke-back Church last week, I will feel much better about riding in the car crouched behind the front seat praying to Jesus that we make safely to the next Happy Chef. I don't mind her driving 90 mph. It's the passing on the right shoulder that makes me expand the carbon footprint on the back of my underwear. Marriage is all about learning to compromise and I learned to compromise early in my marriage when I gave up extreme sports like showering with and electric toaster and just let the wife drive. I'm comfortable with my role as navigator. Whenever she asks me anything, I tell her to go to hell.

It was a slow, political news day today, but I did get a chance to stop by the campaign offices to get up-to-date of the hot campaign gossip. So far, neither the local GOPee or Democrap offices have figured out that I am volunteering at both offices. The volunteers in those offices hate the mythical beasts in the other office so much that they will drive up five miles out of their way to go to the Dairy Queen just so they don't have to drive past the other party's campaign office.

Today at the GOPee office, I got Darla all whipped up about a bumper sticker I saw. I told her that it said "How can you be pro-life and support the death penalty?" She started speaking in tongues and finally blurted out that she would be writing a letter to the editor about that. I told her the bumper sticker was on a lavender Pirus and was no doubt some diversity-loving tree hugger with San Fransisco tendencies. I wanted to bring a couple extra McCain buttons with me but didn't want to pay so I pointed out the window and said to Darla "Look there goes Michelle Bachman." While she was vigorously scanning Main Street saying "Where, where, where," I stuffed a handful of McCain buttons in my pocket and left.

Down at the Democratic office, I hung around the office agreeing with a couple of former Girl Scouts that the Democrats would win by a landslide if the Republicans weren't so mean. Then I told them I saw a Hummer parked in front of the GOPee office with California plates sporting a bumper sticker that read "How can you kill babies and be against killing Islamo fascist terrorists?"

After an hour of this political chatting, it was time to go and I need to steal a few extra Obama buttons. I pointed out the window and said, "Hey look it's Arnold Schwarzenegger in his Hummer!" While the girls were vigorously scanning Main Street saying "Where, where, where," I stuffed a handful of Obama buttons in my pocket and left.

Since the wife and I were getting ready to leave on a once and a lifetime chance to cover both the Democratic and GOPee conventions, I decided to get the wife a little present. So I stopped by the local sex shop and got a new pair of fuzzy handcuffs. I thought it might compliment the wife's marital aid arsenal. The whip gets a little old. Especially since she only uses it on me when I refuse to mow the lawn. For the record, my favorite marital aid is a pair of ear plugs.

Time to hit the hay. Tomorrow will be a long day with a lot of praying to do.

More to come...