Hi. Still here. Did ya miss me?
I’ve been busy with a few projects, but mostly, I just can’t bring myself to sort out pictures for a vacation post. It’s about a kazillion times harder to pull out pictures with our new(ish) camera. Really makes me regret all the times I dropped my old one in the mud. And waterfalls. And chicken coops. The poor little thing just couldn’t take any more abuse.
A vacation post will happen someday, I promise. With or without pictures.
In the meantime, it’s been FAR too long since I’ve done a political post. Without further ado, I present:
Saturday, April 30th – A DAY IN THE LIFE OF A POLITICAL JUNKIE
Too darn early to look at a clock a.m.: Jennifer wakes up to sounds of not one, but two alarms going off. Simultaneously. They were supposed to be set two minutes apart. Alarm fail.
5:20 a.m.: Jennifer and Emma are out the door and on their way to Bountiful Baskets. This is Jennifer’s week to be in charge, so she can’t be late. Bummer.
5:55 a.m.: Jennifer and all of her wonderful BB friends learn that the delivery truck is late. Double bummer. They wisely decide to spend their extra time
complaining about their children getting to know one another better.
6:15 a.m.: Delivery truck arrives. Chaos ensues. Baskets are filled. Strawberries are drooled over.
7:02 a.m.: Site is OPEN. Just two minutes late. Jennifer is awesome that way. Although some of the volunteers probably just think she is crazy.
7:40 a.m.: Jennifer is on her way home! She parks in the driveway, runs into the house, changes into super-snazzy professional wear, and runs back out to the car faster than Obama can
blame Bush take all the credit for killing Bin Ladin.
8:05 a.m.: Jennifer arrives at the county convention, where she will be helping several of her friends with their campaigns. She feels confident. She has spent the past few weeks
begging encouraging delegates to vote for her peeps. They are clearly the best candidates, after all.
8:10 a.m.: On her way to the campaign booths, Jennifer runs into Dan the Man, Senator Lee’s state director. They hug. Mike’s people are all huggers. Jennifer has gotten used to this. Dan tells Jennifer that Mike is in the gym. Run, Jennifer, run! Find Mike!
8:15 a.m.: Jennifer is in the gym. So are all of the candidates. With their booths. Jennifer picks up the appropriate fliers, coats herself with the appropriate campaign stickers, gives a thumbs up to all of the appropriate people, chuckles at a unintentionally inappropriate balloon replica of a candidate (not kidding), and spies Senator Mike Lee speaking with a crowd of people.
8:20 a.m.: As Jennifer is debating whether or not she has time to wait for the crowd to break up so she can talk with Mike, he spies her. And Senator Mike Lee, who is a United States SENATOR, who is a United States Senator who is totally rocking it back in D.C., says to the crowd, “Just a minute folks, I need to say hi to Jennifer.” And he rushes out of the crowd to greet Jennifer with a hug.
That’s right, I get hugged by Senators.
Back to the story.
8:30 a.m.: Jennifer has finished exchanging pleasantries with Mike (You’re awesome. No, YOU’RE awesome. No really, YOU ARE awesome.) and has strategically placed herself in a spot where she will be able to
trap speak with the most delegates. She then begins simultaneously campaigning for one individual, one dual campaign, and one team campaign. Many delegates politely take the literature she offers with a nod and a smile, but occasionally, one will stop and argue with her ask questions. This is what Jennifer lives for. She never loses a good debate. Mostly because she rarely takes part in good debates. But she doesn’t lose mediocre debates either, so all is well.
10:00 a.m.: The convention is about to begin. The delegates rush into the auditorium, filling all of the aisle seats. Jennifer has stayed outside, using her incredible powers of persuasion on misguided voters until the bitter end. Now she has no seat. A state representative who has also found himself seatless strikes up a conversation with her on how the women are such power players in Utah County. Amen, brother! He thinks it’s unfair. Sucks to be you, brother!
10:10 a.m.: The candidates for State Central Committee file across the stage. Jennifer cheers loudly for all of her peeps. This is more fun than a basketball game. And basketball games are like, WAY fun.
10:20 a.m.: One of Jennifer’s friends is pointing to an empty seat in the middle of her row. It must be about 15 seats in. Jennifer debates with herself. Her feet hurt, and she wants to sit down, but she REALLY doesn’t want to have to make her way past all of those people. Luckily, they are friendlies. Jennifer’s sore feet win the debate, and she begins plowing over hapless attendees in her quest to procure the lovely seat.
10:25 a.m.: The candidates for the Executive Committee have begun their speeches. Jennifer is fascinated by the stylistic differences between them. The speeches each sound unique, even though the candidates are all essentially saying exactly the same thing. Jennifer predicts who the winners will be, based on speaking ability alone. Many hours later, her predictions turn out to be correct.
10:40 a.m.: Jennifer’s candidate is speaking. Jennifer has had to make her way back OUT of the aisle and all the way to front of the auditorium, where she has joined her candidate on stage, along with a host of other politically savvy people. Jennifer’s candidate delivers a VERY good speech. Go Adrielle, go!
10:45 a.m.: Jennifer is climbing back over the row of people as she makes her way back to her seat. She is becoming very good at apologizing for stepping on feet. If only she could be as adept at not stepping on feet in the first place.
More speeches. Some good. Some bad.
At some point, it’s time to vote.
Fifty bazillion people file out of the auditorium.
Then fifty bazillion people file back in.
Jennifer has beat them all back to her seat in the middle of the row. HA!
Now it’s time to debate resolutions. Some are yawners, some are not. The Governor is there, passionately defending HB116. Jennifer wasn’t aware he could get that fired up. It’s truly a sight to behold. The debate is brief, but intense. Votes are counted, and the delegates have passed a resolution asking for a repeal of 116. Poor Governor Herbert. But he really should have known better than to sign a half-baked omnibus bill into law in the first place.
Some time after 12:00 p.m.: Jennifer is hungry. More debating.
Some time after that: The results are in, and Adrielle, who was considered the underdog, has been elected as the new county vice chair. WOO HOO!!!!!! The Heathers (no, not those Heathers) have also been elected to the State Central Committee. Go, Heathers! And Scott will be the new UCRP treasurer. Hooray for Scott!!!!
And in a stunning turn of events, Jeremy Robert has been voted in as the new UCRP secretary.
Why is this stunning? Because Jeremy ran as a joke. Quoting from the local paper: “He wants to open a cat dairy in La Verkin. He proposed depositing a family of dolphins in Utah Lake, creating an eco-tourism attraction to boost the county economy. He pitched a feral cat theme park. And he embraced goat sacrifices to ward off evil spirits that might harm the county party. He also offered to wear a shock collar so delegates could keep him line and vowed not to bomb Libya.”
But he gave a REALLY good convention speech.
It’s all about the speech, people.
Those executive committee meetings are going to be hi.lar.i.ous.
1:30ish p.m.: Hunger and fatigue are taking their toll on the audience. Sticks of gum and jelly beans are passed among the rows in a desperate attempt to ward off starvation. Whimpers of “Please, no more debating” are heard throughout the auditorium. Luckily, the end is near.
It is time to hear from the Big Guns.
After hearing from the Little (local politicians) Guns.
Governor Herbert is speaking again, this time about the great State of Utah. He gets cheers for this one.
Senator Mike Lee is up next. His best line: “There is a lie spawned in Hell by the devil himself that if we don’t raise the debt ceiling, America will default on our loans.” Jennifer hearts Mike. And for those of you who now think he’s crazy – it’s hyperbole, people. Don’t get all up in arms.
Next up is Representative Jason Chaffetz, then man who started Jennifer’s political career. He is as handsome and cocky as ever. He also definitely knows how to work a crowd. Delegates have stopped trying to gnaw their own arms off and are actually paying attention. Kudos, Mr. Chaffetz.
And now for today’s trivia question: Who was the very first person to send a Facebook friend request to Jennifer? Answer: Jason Chaffetz.
With that, the convention is over. Congratulations are given, sympathies are doled out, pictures are posed for, and it. is. time. for. LUNCH!
Can you hear the Hallelujah Chorus? Because Jennifer can.
3:00ish: Jennifer and friends meet in a lovely little restaurant in Springville for a post-convention wrap-up. The waiter brings out some bread sticks and carefully places them upon the beautifully decorated table. They are devoured instantly. “More bread!” The waiter looks frightened. But he brings more bread immediately, thus narrowly escaping a possible cannibal attack.
And now, Jennifer makes a critical error.
She orders the turkey avacado sandwich.
Which is approximately six inches thick. This is not an exaggeration.
Jennifer tries to squish it together. The avacodos glop out.
Sauce is dripping everywhere.
It will be impossible to eat this sandwich while maintaining any semblance of dignity. Intelligent conversation will also not be happening.
Luckily, the time for dignity and intelligent conversation is OVER.
Jennifer loads up on napkins and begins stuffing her face while listening to her hilarious friends discuss the campaign happenings of the last two weeks.
Because there is nothing funnier than a group of hypoglycemic, sleep deprived, mostly victorious political junkies. Seriously.
Now bring on the dolphins!