Meet Hilary's New Campaign Managers

Jamie and I went up to Sacramento recently to, among other things, see some historical sites. Here we are in Rick's Dessert Diner fueling up on sugar and 1950s kitsch before a late-night run to the Stanford Mansion and The Governor's Mansion! Buildings of yore! We like to do our touring at night, when Sacramento is most seductive.

In the car on the way back to Santa Cruz, Jamie, Rach, and I discussed ways to revamp Hilary R. Clinton's public image. Since she is not particularly feminine, we think it would be fortuitous for her to simply discard any remaining vestiges of being a woman, and start slicking her hair back and wearing white suits. Maybe even disco suits. Maybe even Elvis' suit. You know, an attractive combination of verve, sparkle, and rugged masculinity. Drawn-on pencil-thin mustache is optional, but advised. And here's the clincher: She shall take a page from the Cal Worthington book of showmanship by riding into important public events on a fierce tiger. The tiger is symbolic of our nation's troubles, and you, Hilary, are the only candidate who can "tame the beast!" The pendulous (and totally optional!) gold chains hanging around both your and the tiger's necks will evoke the opulence of the new, increasingly prosperous America under your reign... if you'd only let us tweak your image every so slightly!

Call us, Hilary! We will turn you into the Liberace of presidential hopefuls.

Watch this clip to get the full flavor of what we'd like to achieve. You can skip minutes 1:39 till the end, where Cal Worthington is getting gnawed on (playfully?) by the tiger, and later getting "love" bites in the neck from what appears to be a bear buckled into the passenger seat of a Chevrolet. That part's not important.

Crippled by addiction-- crafting adversely effected

I'm really glad to have found this egg cream blueprint online. Now I can make my own egg creams from home, and recreate that glorious high! Up until now, I had been "chasing the dragon" for weeks!

I think my insatiable need for egg creams (abbreviated from here on out as E.C.s) is starting to adversely affect my rich hobby life. For instance, instead of sewing, I just spent hours perusing this fake craigslist, looking for free give-aways, before realizing that it was just a hilarious fraud. Oh well, I guess I didn't really want those free cobra puppies, anyway.

In the meantime, I'll be watching what I like to call Egg Cream-o-Vision. It's barely audible, it's out of focus, and I JUST CAN'T GET ENOUGH!!!

Egg Creams-- Better Than Crack Cocaine; also, A Trip I Went On

When I was in New York last month, Jamie called me up and said, in a nutshell, "Hey Julia, wanna come with me to the midwest and deep south to retrieve the homemade raft that myself and several others used to navigate the Mississippi this summer/fall? You remember-- that life changing experience I had that involved many hilarious and scary brushes with the local law enforcement. Remember how myself and the other rafters became the hot topic on the local news and, with the aide of a generous lawyer seeking publicity and a somewhat bombastic news anchor we eventually made it to our proposed destination of New Orleans, even with the coast guard hot on our trails?" Well, ok, perhaps he said less than that. Maybe he said Come Get The Raft With Me. Bottom line: I agreed to go. It's amazing what I'll agree to do once I get a few egg creams in me! Lay off the sauce, Julia! Granted, there's no alcohol in an egg cream (that I know of!) but darned if I don't get riled up just thinking about them! EGG CREAM!!!!

So flash forward a couple of weeks: Jamie and I are driving through the south at breakneck speed, hell-bent on retrieving the raft in N'Orleans, only making brief stops to pee and immerse ourselves in a wonderland of Elvis memorabilia. Adventure around every turn! At one point, I believed Jamie to be lost in some thick brush. Even my dangerously high levels of egg-cream derived moxie couldn't make me get in that brush! I cursed myself for leaving my machete in Santa Cruz.

But listen, dear reader, all you really need to know is that the raft was secured eventually, and is currently resting, disassembled, in a garage in Kansas City, MO. This adventure has easily been the most exciting one of my life. I almost don't want to tell you too much about it, gentle reader, because, given the usual comically dull "style" of my blog (that you have, I'm sure, come to both enjoy and even revere as a sort of Prairie Home Companion alternative), it seems kind of vulgar to suddenly shock you with a lot of swashbuckling, folderol, and fanfare. Frankly, I have to assume that at least 70% of my readers have some kind of geriatric heart condition, and you old biddies probably don't welcome too many kicks. I mean, am I right or am I right, ladies?
For those of you who probably won't suffer dizzy spells or shortness of breath in the face of a little excitement, feel free to have a look-see at my pictures from the trip.


Raft disassembly-- Deconstruction of some very large-scale crafting!



Another egg-creamless continental breakfast leaves me near tears at a Best Western in Donaldsonville, LA.



2008 off to a rollicking start! Happy new year, friends!