Watching the inaugural proceedings in all their length and glory, I came to the realization (again) that I have no desire to be President.
Which is just as well since,
1. I was not born in the U.S. and, until Ahnold or Barack himself passes some legislation, I will not be eligible.
2. I am not able to be out in ‘public’ for any length of time without frowning or yawning. Sort of like Hillary’s eye rolling during one of GW’s speeches. Not appropriate for The President.
3. I am unable to coerce the muscles in my face to smile for more than 2 seconds at a time. And the thought of waving more than a handful of times, especially at people I don’t know at all while pretending to know them, exhausts me.
4. The idea of having to endure a 90 minute parade ‘in my honor’ bores me. Not to mention the expectation that I would appear enthusiastic and interested in every single one of the participants that marches in front of me. (Awesome! It’s the State of Delaware marching past.)
5. I am the ultimate committer of social faux pas. If there’s a certain way to greet a person – I will always get it wrong. I have kissed people from Bolivia on the cheek twice, and people from France on the cheek once. It should be the reverse. As they ‘gracefully’ pointed out to me. This could only ruin important diplomatic relationships.
6. I am unable to be in a public situation and not make fun of SOMETHING. Sort of like Chandler-Bing from Friends. There’s no way I could watch a bunch of stuffy politicians, or gold-lame-pant-wearing baton twirlers and not utter some kind of crack. [Which means there’s no way my ‘better half’ could EVER be President. ]
7. I’d feel a little smothered by the Secret Service detail and constantly worry I’d make some sudden, overreactive gesture that would cause them to tackle me.
8. I don’t know the words to ‘America the Beautiful’ or ‘My Country ‘Tis of Thee’. I don’t think mouthing ‘watermelon’ will cut it.
9. I couldn’t take the wardrobe scrutiny, or the world-wide knowledge of my ‘figure flaws’.
10. Because after four or eight years of crazy stress and ageing myself beyond recognition, people will boo me and sing ‘nah-nah-nah’ as my helicopter departs the inauguration ceremony. And call me all kinds of names. Mmh, no thanks!
On a related note, the Hen took in the festivities with great interest. He clapped and raised his hands in salute. Good thing too, since he’s the only one of my spawn eligible for Presidency.
I made sugar cookies last night, because once again the internet tripped me up. G saw some sugar cookies on another blog and said: ‘those look good to me.’ Well, they looked good to me too.
So I made patriotic Obama cookies. Except not really. I just made circles, and the icing looks more pink and turquoise than blue and red. It’s more ‘gender neutral baby shower’ than anything else.
After all, if you can’t be President, you might as well bake some cookies.