Barbara Bush is a hottie . . .

Look, I’m not voting Republican. Unless daughter Bush goes fully nude at the Republican convention. Thanks to Chasewaterhouse’s I Heart Hollywood, a damn fine blog, for pointing out Bush’s secret campaign weapon.

Speaking of politics, a couple of friends of mine are going to the Democratic National Convention as bloggers, even though they don’t have an actual blog. Nor do they seem to have any plans to have one, which points out to a serious problem on the grassroots level, as far as I can see. I think they’re planning on sending out email blasts – to their friends – who already are voting Democrat anyway – in California, which is going to go for Kerry. They should just donate the money they’re going to be spending going to the convention to the campaign.

Damn it’s hot outside. How did I manage to live in this place for three years without air conditioning?

Ally saw Jennifer Garner shopping for organic produce at the Brentwood Whole Foods. Why bother eating healthy food when you’re paralyzing your face with spider venom botox injections. I want to see her eat a juicy organic peach with frozen face. She used to be the hostess at Park Avalon, where I worked as a waiter. She seemed nice enough. Maybe if I ever see her in person I’ll start yelling out menu items that P.A. was famous for: ROAST FREE RANGE CHICKEN! HAY & STRAW PASTA! JENNIFER, REMEMBER THE CHICKEN PAILLARD!

Reid Ross High School Class of 1985. That one’s for the google bot, and anyone who happens to be searching out info on the alma mater (bwahahaha). Yeah, my 20 year reunion is coming up. I’m thinking up a few ideas, since basically no one that I really am that interested in seeing has signed up on classmates.com, and so I don’t see that there is even the bare minimum of motivation for going. We must be in some contigent of people who find the idea of attending either totally laughable or utterly depressing. Maybe I’ll do an anti-reunion web site for all of the school misanthropes. I’ve gotten a couple of emails from some people I knew back then, and actually only the interesting ones have written, so that’s a good sign. But like I said, I imagine these are the people who’d rather saw off a leg with a steak knife than sit at a table at some lame hotel in the pine sticks of NC, either yapping on about the mundane details of ordinary lives or trying to outdo one another in middle class accomplishments. I can’t imagine stepping foot back in Fayetteville, North Carolina. Just off the top of my head, I think I went back a couple of times after my parents split up, but I guess the very latest would have been sometime around 1988 or 1989. Maybe a little later. It’s all a blur now. Anyway, I had no intention of going back the day I left, and I can’t say that my curiousity has grown at all. The meetings for the reunion planning seem to be happening at places like The Olive Garden, and I for one have never been to an Olive Garden, but I’ve seen the middle of the road dullards they have in the commercials. Perhaps I should be more thankful that I’m not a two hundred and fifty pound lard ass from Fayetteville, North Carolina. Thank you Reid Ross – thank you for inspiring me to get the fuck out.

I was even the yearbook editor if you can believe it. What a fucking joke.