Political Party

So everyone knows by now, if they somehow didn't already, that I am a card-carrying member of the Democratic party, practically rabid about politics - and a huge Obama supporter. So what better way to spend last night, the 45th anniversary of MLK's famous "I Have a Dream" speech and of course, Obama's acceptance speech, than in a bar full of other people just as fired up as I am about November? Who knows how much email we're about to begin receiving from the Democratic Leadership for the 21st Century, who sponsored the DNC-viewing event...but it was a good time!

In case you missed it, Al Gore reminded us he knows a thing or two about close elections; and Obama stopped just short of calling George W. Bush an asshole, and McCain a moron for standing beside him. Quick point on this one - we've all stood up and cheered for the decorated war veteran John McCain, and no one can take that away from him. Long pause. But has anyone else considered how awkward it could be to put a former POW into the most powerful office in the world? I mean, here's the thing. If I'd been a POW, I'd be pretty pissed off - with just cause. I might have some "anger issues," and suffer from some "post-traumatic stress disorder" that maybe the U.S. presidential office isn't well suited for. I'm just saying.

And now, should (God forbid) Old Man McCain be elected President and kick the bucket while in office (it's not that 72 is *that* old - it's just that he hasn't worn those years very well), we have Sarah Palin - who, by the way, could *only* have placed in a beauty pageant in Alaska, where the population is 16. WTF.

I suppose I'll spare you all any further ranting, and move on to what came after the viewing party - Stanford football! Who knew they would even show a Stanford game in a Manhattan bar? And who knew there would be *other* Stanford fans there? Most shocking is that we actually won the game against Oregon State. Weird.

Today, it was back to Exhale for Core Fusion after Thursday off. This place is awesome and hilarious. I have no idea how so many people are able to escape to the spa for treatments and workouts in the middle of the day, but here they all are. Each day I've witnessed a special New Yorker in class. Wednesday, for example, it was a 60-year-old woman in a belted leotard over red knee-length leggings with black leg warmers. Today's crazy lady looked entirely different, though...

She was 30-35, very trim and fit, with inflated boobs. While everyone else had accessories and props for the class - weights and straps, for example - she additionally had her Blackberry, giant watch and post-it notepad. Every now and then, she would approach the mirrored wall closely to check herself out - as though anything was possibly out of place or imperfect.

During the workout, while everyone else had 2- and 3-pound weights, she had 5-pound weights. When the instructor invited us to slide into our splits, she did so like a ballerina, leaning over her front leg with only her giant boobs to prop her up off the floor. And because I am the luckiest person alive, I got to spend the entire class right next to her. I may not be able to walk tomorrow, because I did my best to out-stretch, out-squat, out-pulse, and out-lift this desperate housewife. As the instructor reminded us all, "This class is all about you - not the person next to you or in front of you - just you," I thought, "Duh, of course it is - why do you think I'm kicking this woman's ass right now?

Tonight, we're heading out with Dan (Dingo) Brown and a friend of his who lives in the neighborhood. May God grant me mobility.