Perry Tries to Poach More Than Eggs in the St. Louis August Heat

August in St. Louis typically feels like wearing long underwear in a sauna. It’s sweaty and sticky, and sometimes too oppressive to even breathe. Typically. But this August has been anything but typical. I would venture to call it downright lovely. Even recently, when temperatures did break into the nineties, I have found it hard to be all “holy-crap-Dante-must-have-written-Inferno-sitting-under-The-Arch.” St. Louis is a nice place to be, and I felt a little sorry for my husband when he called from his trip in Austin, Texas this past weekend to Continue reading “Perry Tries to Poach More Than Eggs in the St. Louis August Heat”

The Assault On Dinner Time

This is what happens at my house around 6:05 p.m. just about every day:

Ring Ring

“Hello. This is <insert name> and I am running for <insert office.> Our country…”  Click. 

Seriously? Seriously. This is getting seriously annoying. And it’s only August, people.

family dinnerWhat genius political strategist decided it was a good idea to have their auto-robot callers interrupt the American public’s dinner? These Einsteins are trying to woo my vote by making me listen to their well-rehearsed vapid sound bites when all I want to do is take a bite of my quickly cooling pasta. Didn’t their mothers ever tell them it was rude to call someone at dinner time?

Well, I am going on record to say that I will hereby not vote for any politician who calls and interrupts my dinner. I don’t care what your plan for the economy is or your stance on environmental issues. If you call during dinner time, it is obvious that you hold little respect for the American tradition of families sitting around a table to share the events of their day. It is clear that you put importance of partisan politics and greed over the core values of family, the freedom to assemble, and the right to eat your food while it is hot.

In short, if you call with your campaign slogans at dinner time, then you must hate families…and dinner…and America. So I’m going to vote for the other guy.

Unless he calls me at dinner time, too. Then I’m writing in Nader.