AfricanKelli

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I’d be remiss if I let this whole Spitzer thing pass without throwing in my two cents. And those two cents would be spent as follows:
1. Dragging his wife from the podium where she keeps “standing behind her man” into reality to remind her that hey! Silda! You were a very successful attorney before you married this clown and had three kids with him. (All daughters, naturally.) He just spent $80,000 on a 105-pound hooker. When was the last time you spent $80,000 on yourself? Now is the time honey. Now is the time. (And I’m not just talking lawyer fees. We’ll let him cover those. Mkay?)

and,
2. Seriously? Hookers? Eliot, didn’t you get the memo? A quarter of American girls have an STD. And if you think your waspy wanker is protected because these girls you are paying to spend time with are “high end,” you’d be wrong. Oh, and by the way, thanks again for your excellent leadership. You, my friend, are an immoral moron. A pox on your house. Oh wait…

Yes, PapPap and Grandma, I did just use the term “waspy wanker.” No, please don’t call me about it. I have my days too and this latest political scandal has me rather annoyed. It may be because once upon a time I dated a man who worked in government and had his eye on bigger politics (there by putting me in the role as that glassy-eyed doe with a Stepford zip code). Really though, I just think it’s the fact that some how this keeps happening and the women, the dedicated wives, keep looking like the idiots. Is power corrupting? Or are these fools immoral before they get into office?

~K

P.S. I froze beer. No idea if this ruins the yeast, but I’m hoping it works for future loaves of no knead bread. Now I don’t have to run out and buy a 40 in a ghetto koozie every time I want to bake bread.

We are one step closer today to having Madame President, who would be sworn in by our Madame Speaker of the House and holy moly I can barely contain the feminist in me from doing cartwheels around the office. Yahoo!

To celebrate Spring, the changing of the political tides, puppies, fresh flowers and all the other nonsense that makes me giddy on an 80 degree day in Phoenix, I pulled out my cruiser bike for a ride. The tires were long since flat, so I cleaned up Esmeralda {She’s green, and there is a theme here. Her perkier cousin Ruby wasn’t too pleased I was cheating on her with the older, more established model. Then again, Esme has never not once dumped my ass in traffic. I still have scars from my last crash with Ruby. Just goes to show you there is often something comforting to the wider, softer, sweeter model.}

Esme needed new tires ($25) and to be hauled to the bike shop in my trunk. She’ll be picked up and ready to go by tomorrow, when I plan to ride her all over Tempe to get my groceries and errands accomplished. Exercise, enjoying the beautiful weather and not a bit of carbon wasted in the process. Ah, life is good. January 20, 2009 cannot get here fast enough.

~K

Last night I decided to drive to Ceasar Chavez High School to hear Hillary speak.The high school is only a 12 mile straight shot west from my house, but with the rally traffic it took more than an hour to get there. Finally fed up with yet another hour of my life wasted behind the wheel, I pulled over and decided to walk the rest of the way. I could see the high school football stadium lights; I guessed I was within a mile.
This high school sits in an odd area of Phoenix. Plopped at the northern base of South Mountain, nearby flower fields and farms were recently razed and giant stucco monstrosities were planted in their place. This new suburbia crashes into the pre-existing rough neighborhood once you cross Central Ave. Then, oddly enough, the high school is surrounded by large dairy farms that have fought back developers and keep on a planting in the midst of a sprawling city.
As I got out of my car to walk toward the rally, a man parked his car at the same time and got my attention.
“You going to hear Hillary speak?”
“Yes,” I replied, noticing the full moon was the only light on an otherwise dark side street. The dairies’ thick earthy perfume clung to the night air and I tried not to look at the graffiti surrounding me. “Do you want to walk together?” I asked a bit more meekly, thinking even walking with a total stranger would be safer. “It would probably be a better move.”
By now “Charlie” was out of his car. Dressed in a red, white and blue tracksuit, he looked me up one side and down the other and said, “Honey, I’d be fine out here. But someone’d want a piece of you.”
Gulp.
As we walked, Charlie told me about how he didn’t care for Obama, even though as a black man he thought he should. He also told me how he was a Bush supporter and he was just attending the rally for the historical context. I started to argue with him, but caught my breath when we walked under a street light and I realized Charlie was wearing lipstick. Bright pink lipstick. I hadn’t seen his face clearly until now and I had to stifle a laugh.
I walked into a Hillary rally with the only known transvestite Bush supporter on earth. The fact I didn’t even get to see Hillary because — as the traffic predicted — I was way too late to get a seat, didn’t matter. Meeting a republican tranny was worth all the driving. When we walked back to our cars, he shook my hand and said, “See you around Kelli!” I thought, “Where? The Lancome counter?”

In other news, today is National Pie Day. Why do I know this? Because I subscribe to Country Living and hunt out opportunities to have any reason to bake. I took the opportunity to make veggie quiche in phyllo dough for my staff and mini quiche for friends.

Here’s hoping you get a slice of something sweet today too!

~K

*Inspired by Waitress.

I’m saddened today by the murder of Benazir Bhutto. I’ll be the first to tell you I know nothing of Pakistani politics or the influence of her presence. I am fairly certain, however, that strong female leadership in Muslim countries is scarce and her death is a true loss. {Who are we kidding? Strong female leadership is ridiculously scarce internationally regardless of the religious majority.}
I’ve looked at the photos of those mourning and I did wonder — would I take to the streets to mourn an American leader? Would I pull my hair out and beat my chest if someone killed my candidate? I know reactions vary geographically to such violence, but I’m not sure an assassination would result in much more from me than a sincere cry and angry blog post.
A friend emailed the following in regard to Bhutto’s murder. The sentiment is beautiful and I’m thankful that I’m still naive enough to hope her death will encourage positive change.

Franciscan Benediction:

And may God bless you with enough foolishness
To believe that you can make a difference in the world,
So that you can do what others claim cannot be done
To bring justice and kindness to all our children and the poor. Amen.