I just got back from voting, yay, voting. I am a giant dork in that I love to vote. Literally, the day that I turned 18, my grandfather took me to the Courthouse, and I was really, really excited. Most people are really excited to turn 18, but all I really wanted was my voter registration card. I guess it stands to reason that I eventually worked on a national campaign that was partially responsible for registering people to vote. I digress...
Here's what I observed while engaging in my constitutional responsibility:
1. You can't campaign within 30 feet of a polling place. Okay, fair enough. However, you can apparently, be a really, really loud campaign worker who will not shut the hell up while people are voting. I get it, my mother, grandmother, and grandfather used to work every election, and I know for the election workers, it is somewhat social, but when your abrasive Southern voice is so loud that I can't concentrate on the obscure amendment proposal I'm reading, shut UP...which brings me to...
2. Why must the wording on the amendments listed on the ballot be so confusing? I majored in political science, and it took me about 5 times to read through and omit the legalese so I could understand what in God's name the amendment was. I realize that's how the amendment would be worded if it were added to the state constitution, but I don't think it's a bad idea to put it in layman's terms on the ballot so I'm not voting to increase the elderly's taxes by 50% or allow people to marry farm animals.
3. I think they should make online voting available. I realize you have to verify people's information via ID, but it seems like with all the modern advances, there must be a cyber way to do that. If you could vote in your pajamas, I think voter turnout would be much higher. On a serious note, I sincerely hope everyone voted. Nothing is sadder than people complaining about things and doing less than nothing to change them.
I also realized today that I have even less of a sense of direction than I thought. I had to take a detour home from work because of mass chaos with firetrucks and police cars and total traffic stoppage, and I didn't quite get lost, but I went around the world to get where I needed to be. I understand north, south, east, and west, but that knowledge kind of eludes me when I'm driving. I need a GPS implanted in my skin, so that I will never end up in the ghetto with my gaslight on.
I restarted my allergy shots today, whoooo. I even had to give them to myself...in the stomach. The shots genuinely don't bother me, but watching a needle slide into my body makes everything go kind of yellow. That's why I never, ever watch when they take my blood, and when Smitty gives me shots, he injects them in the back of my arms, so I can't see what he's doing. I could seriously never work in the healthcare profession.
Also, along with my Real Housewives guilty pleasure, I have now become addicted to Swamp People and Billy the Exterminator, both of which are shows riddled with white trash. On Swamp People, they are speaking English, you know, the language of the country, but they have to put subtitles because the Cajun accent combined with missing teeth interferes with being able to understand some of them at all. They spend their days in wife beaters without any hint of a shower or shampoo, placing raw chicken on bait, reeling in alligators and shooting them in the head. It's simultaneously awesome and sad.
And Billy the Exterminator, oh, Billy. He is the lead exterminator in a family business owned by a highly questionable Louisiana family. He has what can only be described as a hair gel mullet, wears full-length leather, rarely uses gloves or any protection while spraying insects, catching snakes, etc...His brother Ricky has an old-school mullet with what looks like highlights, and he has broken up with and reunited with his super trashy wife about 6 times. I also think at one point, he was hooked on meth. If either of these two people came to my house to exterminate anything, I would probably burn my house after they left.
Their mom, Donnie, who answers the phone and sends them to jobs, has giant pageant hair and clearly shops the Jaclyn Smith collection at K-Mart. Also, she is an amateur matchmaker for Ricky, and placed ads in the paper to pick up a woman for him, part of one ad including "must be single," because apparently, that was an issue before. It's trashy and wonderful.
Before I leave you, remember, you can be experiencing the worst day ever, yet "Every Rose Has Its Thorn" can come on the radio, and all that changes...
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