OBAMA MAMAS

I persuaded 3 reluctant girlfriends to drive down to Denver last night. The media hype about warning us normal ordinaries to not even try to venture down to the convention was daunting.

Throwing caution to the wind, we drove down, found a practically empty parking garage 1 block from the 16th St. Mall, a corollary several blocks away from the heart of the convention, the Pepsi Center, which was currently housing tens of thousands of delirious Democratic delegates.

Walking the streets, we were underwhelmed. We saw more swat teams, police on bicycles, dozens of men and women in black wearing serious smiles and hard batons.

On the way down we were warned by one of my friend’s daughters that there were riots taking place, people were being spit at, urine was being thrown (huh?). We couldn’t wait to get in the middle of it all.

Instead, the biggest threat we encountered was when I asked one of the peace officers a question about accessibility to the Pepsi Center. He responded as if I was a threat to national security. “DON’T EVEN TRY TO GO THERE!” he sternly warned me, swinging his black metal bat back and forth menacingly in his hands.

The biggest action we had was standing outside the MSNBC TV production, trying desperately to get 2 seconds of fame and get noticed by a camera man. What goof balls. We were complicit dupes as MSNBC staff handed us hats and placards to wave around wildly when the camera passed us by.

I’m pretty sure I was on national television. If you missed me, here I am, the sickening sweet smiley woman in green (the one that looks like Vicky from Desperate Housewives of Orange County):





After I stopped gawking at Keith Obermann and Chris Matthews who were barely visible atop a 2nd story stand (my neck hurts today), we did manage a close up look at Pat Buchanan, Rachel Maddow and Norah O’Donnell (how can one woman look that good after just having a baby).


What I learned mostly from watching them was THESE PEOPLE DO A LOT OF WAITING….AND WAITING….AND WAITING. We came back to check in on them at the end of the evening to make sure they were still breathing. They were, and they were still WAITING AND WAITING AND WAITING. They get paid a lot of money to wait. We never saw them actually talk.

There were street vendors selling the expected Obama T-shirts and buttons, and the unique Obama action figure which I am embarrassed to say, one of my girlfriends bought all in an excited dither.

Although there were cougars and MILFs in abundance, there wasn’t one sighting of a PUMA! Where were these wicked women? Where was the spit, the tear gas, the excrement? The drama? What a let down.

*PUMA: Stands for: PARTY UNITY MY ASS. Angry upset disgruntled Hillary devotees who are not willing to accept that Obama is the Democratic candidate.





(Photos taken from PUMA website: http://www.puma08.com/tag/hillary-clinton/)

We had dinner at a great restaurant in Larimer Square. When we left, delegates were covering the sidewalks in swarms with huge MICHELE banners in their hands and ecstatic looks on their faces. You know, those “I just had some Kool-Aid” looks.

I was jealous. I felt like the girl left home on prom night. My friend, Michele, was desperate for one of those banners and couldn’t convince one of those selfish devotees to depart with one, not even for some big bucks. Some kind of Democrats they were!

All in all, there was excitement and power in the air. We felt like Cinderella and got home after midnight on a Monday night. Pretty good for a “Blue Monday”.