Allow me to go on record as not giving a rat’s ass about the leisure activities of our first couple. When they decide to get away from it all, can we all just LET THEM?
I don’t want to see footage, I don’t care what she wears, I don’t want to know where they dine or what they ingest. Don’t report about the color of Michelle’s blouse. To me, nothing that conceals or accessorizes her form is of interest, prurient or passing…unless it’s “off the hook” unusual. Say, she shows up dressed as potato salad–or a pork chop. That may be worthy of a mention. Ummmm…potato salad.
As a couple, they’re lovely together. They get their fair share, in fact, far more than their fair share of TV time. Can’t we please just leave them alone? Consider this. For a moment, let’s pretend I’m Barack and my wife, Susan, Michelle.
As I type this, my lovely wife is upstairs watching “In Treatment.” She wears satin, tiger print pajamas. I got them for her the Christmas before last. She just came downstairs for a glass of Shiraz and a bowl of cheddar-cheese popcorn.
Who am I wearing? On top, a Pakistani-made “Ultra Club Classic Polo”; all-cotton in deep rose, with banded sleeves. My shorts are dark olive”paratrooper” cargos, also in pure cotton, that hit just below the knee. I wear no belt. There is no clue as to who made my shorts. The only tag still readable says, “Made in China.” I had to drop trou to gather info for the preceding sentence. I’m now comfortably clad in gray Hanes 100% cotton Boxer-briefs, (made in India) featuring their patented, covered comfort waist.
On my feet are are size 12 Born (a formerly Danish brand made in China) “Thompson” Boat Shoes in Light Brown, featuring Born’s patented Opanka hand-sewn construction…no socks. My eyeglass frames are semi-rimless, blue titanium. When I took them off to gather further details, I could no longer see my hands, so I put them back on. My cargos are now back where they belong.
Tonight we dined on marinated, grilled, steak tacos basted with a lime cilantro paste, featuring fresh steamed, grilled flour tortillas with cheese, cilantro and Chipotle salsa…simply superb. I added El Yucateca Red Habenero Pepper Sauce, which came out way too fast. As a result, my whole face burned until we finished with blueberry-banana-vanilla yogurt smoothies. As the evening progressed neither of us experienced any abdominal discomfort. Susan’s such a wonderful cook!
After supper, I rode my motorcycle to choir practice but no one else was there. It was clear that I hadn’t paid close enough attention last Sunday! (blushing emoticon)
Once I returned home, I checked my blog stats . I added a couple of short posts and upon hearing David Schuster commenting on the first couple’s “date night” in exquisite detail, felt compelled to write this. As you can see, it’s life-threateningly banal and boring, as are reports of Obama’s date night, save one thing. My wife and I are middle-aged, suburban schmoes. We buy stuff from J. Crew, L.L. Bean and even Eddie Bauer. We occasionally go out, sometimes to nice places. But since we’re just plain folk, none of it matters. And we’re down with that.
When the Obamas do something that does matter, as they WILL, cover it! But in the meantime, PLEEEEZ stop crawling up their asses! People are starving and dying all over the world yet we choose to broadcast grown ass men talking about the height of Michelle’s heels.
Pinch me–I must be dreaming. Guess not. So, please–smack me in the face with a big, cold, wet, dead CARP! Thanks…I feel better now. I feel better than James Brown.
CNN carried it, too