You know that feeling of being constipated? That uncomfortable, full, bloaty feeling where you just want to curl into a ball in bed and not let anyone touch you? And then, one miraculous day, you find some magic prune juice. And you drink this juice. And you have the best shit of your life.
This is what the election results felt like last night. Except Obama voters? You were the magic prune juice. And Romney/Ryan? You were that massive turd I got to flush.
My”love all creatures great and small” sister posted this on Facebook afterwards:
“Although I am thrilled to the core at the re-election of our president, and the way in which this election has demonstrated the general progression of our nation, I also have compassion and empathy for the many fellow Americans who are heartbroken over tonights results.”
Really? So, you have compassion for the governors in Florida and Ohio who were doing their best to shut down the votes of minorities by reducing the amount of time early voting polls were open in black and Hispanic districts or threatening to discard absentee ballots which didn’t have some meaningless box filled out? You have compassion for the “heartbroken” who will now have to suffer as they continue to maintain all of their reproductive rights, even if it’s the right to choose not to have an abortion, yet feel like it is their God given duty to tell me what to do with my lady parts, and most certainly would have if they had a chance?
I could go on and freaking on.
I do not have compassion or empathy for these people. I have fear and anxiety that we have to continue to fight these battles with them year after year after year. LEAVE MY VAGINA ALONE! I have enough doctors up in that business. I don’t need some flag waving super mom from Arkansas up there too.
And now I will step off my soapbox and have some decaf coffee.
In other news, I left my credit card at PF Chang’s over the weekend. I realized this immediately, and called PF Chang’s on Sunday letting them know. They had my card “in the safe”, and assured me that I could pick it up any time this week. Phew!
And by “in the safe”, they meant, “with someone else who decided to use my card to go on a Skee Ball spree at Chuck E Cheese.” Fortunately, the fraud department caught these charges immediately. I mean, seriously, thieves, if you’re going to try and pretend to be an infertile, don’t take a card to fucking Chuck E Cheese. We’re on to you, assholes.