Eyes On The Prize

So, I'm dating someone new.

Will knows. He's cool with it. It's really more of a fling than actually dating. The press would be ALL over us if we took it public and I really don't want to have that. Besides, I'm crazy about Will. Barack is just a hot little piece of ass for a moment. Although, I wouldn't mind if he had my baby. Or I had his baby. I mean, we could try, right? Ain't nothin' wrong with trying...dang.

So, we went and saw Senator Obama speak at City College here in Santa Barbara last Saturday before he headed on over to Oprah's crib for some pie and juice.

The day was BEAUTIFUL. September and October are two of the most gorgeous months here in Santa Barbara. The fog of May, June and July...sometimes August has burned off. The smoke from the Zaca fire is no longer cloaking the city. And the sky is that clear, vibrant blue that every time I look into it, it feels as though I've taken a deep breath.

Will and I headed on over to Santa Barbara City College, which sits on some of the most striking landscape in the area.

We stood in a mighty cluster fuck of a line to give some volunteer our free tickets, who then gave us stickers where we stood in another line to be herded into an area in front of a stage that no one could see.

Tensions were high and the sun was relentless. I had a straw hat on, but I forgot to apply sunscreen and I was wearing a tube-top, so my shoulders and the tops of my boobs were really going to get it. My legs were rather exposed in the hot pants I was wearing, but with so many people around us, they were shaded. And my feet and ankles were tucked into roller skates, so those were covered too.

So, where were we? Tensions were high and the sun was relentless. No one knew what the hell was going on, where the stage was, if we'd be able to see him, if we'd just see the top of his head and maybe we should all go home.

Will and I began to get agitated with one another. At one point, I asked him a question and he replied, "You know, I DIDN'T organize this event."

I'm so glad that he had to tell me, because I was really under the impression that he did.

While we were preparing to scratch each others eyes out, other people were beginning to contemplate the same with their contemporaries.

Finally, some people came up on stage and we had a clear view of them. We were only 30 feet away and unless Barack was 4 feet high, we'd be able to see him just fine. So, 3 or 4 people talked first and gave their testimonies about why they were there and how "pumped up" they were for the election and what we can do to help and they need our help and we need to do this and that.

Then, they'd tell us we weren't clapping loud enough. Can I just tell you how much I FUCKING HATE IT when someone keeps saying, "SO, HOW DO YOU FELL? COME ON! YOU CAN DO BETTER THAN THAT!!" No, I can't, ball-breath...I'd really rather punch you in your face. I just despise it when someone tells me to clap harder. I think you get the picture.

Anyway, everyone was moaning and groaning because we were sure that Barack would be up next, then some Joe-Schmoe would get up there and start blabbing out of his pie hole. If there had been one more person added to the list to speak before Barack, I think that the crowd may have mutinied.

So, finally, he was introduced. And there he was...Barack Obama standing 30 feet away from us. We could've thrown our panties at him and they would've landed at his feet.

I have no idea who I want in the White House for the next election. I know who I DON'T want, but I don't know enough about all the candidates and their views on certain issues to make a sound judgment yet (Although, this hot Mamma has it all linked up for us). And when it comes time to vote, I won't be voting on how I feel, but rather what I think.

So, there he was. My new boyfriend. He certainly has a presence. He was confident (of course) and well-spoken with a strong, yet gentle demeanor. He has long slender hands and when he turned a little, I checked out his back porch, which looked mighty fine to me. I probably could've set a teacup on it.

He spoke eloquently and passionately about the issues that we're all concerned with; the war, the environment, health-care and our fallen stature on the world stage.

He spoke of his labeled "in-experience" and addressed how no one had more experience than Donald Rumsfeld and Dick Cheney. He's right.

He spoke of how the "hope" that he still has is labeled by his colleagues in Washington as naivety.

And he spoke of "the game" in Washington and the degradation of our values due to special interest groups and lobbyists. Again, he's right.

And even though, I still don't know who I want in the White House, I listened to him with a wanting ear and a hopeful heart.

But what got me, what really got me was the audience. I looked around at everyone roasting in the sun. Some were cheering enthusiastically, others merely listened. There was every age group represented and so many different shades of color. There was big hair and buzzed hair and dyed orange hair and hair tucked under hats. There was brown eyes and blue eyes and eyes tucked under visors and sunglasses.

So, what "got" me, were those eyes. That collection of 2000+ eyes. They were all focused on the same thing;

Hope.

They were all focused on hope, even if they didn't want to admit it.

And that gave me hope.

And I'd rather die, then give up hope.

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Oprah's place smelled like farts.

It was really cracking me and Will up when the media was making SUCH a big deal about Oprah's bash for Obama and it being in "Montecito" (where Oprah lives) and how pretentious it all sounded. Because, and you should know this in order to bring it back down to earth, there's a section of Montecito that when we drive by on the freeway the WHOLE PLACE smells like farts. And I MEAN IT. The whole area STINKS. To the point that we're gagging in the car with the windows rolled up.

It's like you drive by the area and go, "Who farted? Oh, Montecito did...that's who."

I think that it may be the Bird Sanctuary, which is close by. I have a feeling that the water is really low from no rain fall and the pond muck and all that bird shit just make a wicked concoction. It just smells so stank.

Diane Sawyer didn't mention that, did she? I didn't think that she would.

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Am I the last to see this "Obama Girl"? Does that ho know he's mine?? She better step off is all I've got to say.

On Sunday morning when I woke up after seeing Barack, I woke Will up and with a bit of panic in my voice inquired, "Where's Barack? What did you do with him?? Is he in the bathroom? He's okay, isn't he??? Is he pregnant with my baby?"

And Will replied as he rolled over, "Jeeezzuuzz Christ..."

And I said with some irritation, "NNoooo...Barack. Where's Barack?"

Barack, if you're reading this, call me.