Let’s Get This Party Started!

I know there is a condition of the mind and of overly dramatic people to stir things up and create drama when things are relatively “boring” aka, calm and Zen.

I’m in that phase. I have a lot going on, but it’s the same problems, the same schedule, the same unmet wants/dreams/goals, the same writing, the same stories. It’s time to get this party started.

But I’m too busy to start it.

So, I ask you, George W. Bush to please spy on me. I mean it.

I’m just silently praying every day that I’m one of the thousands of innocent Americans that George W. Bush and Co. have spied on. Please! Let it be me! And don’t leave it at me. Don’t not tell anyone. Someone, find a transcript of a phone conversation where my friend and I are bitching about her friend who married a billionaire and so now she loves Bush, or else, no furs for her! I must have written something in one of these damn blogs about hating Bush, right? Let’s get those on the table!

I hope I wouldn’t be sent to Gauntanemo Bay or something. See, I don’t want it to go too far.

So, please GWB, find my writings and or phone calls and let’s get spying. And then when it is revealed that you spied on me, I’ll have more friends than Dane Cook. I’ll go on Air America every five minutes. I will go on Letterman, and we’ll fall in love and my boyfriend and Letterman’s girlfriend and Harry are just going to have to deal with it. I’ll write a best-selling book and Richard Clarke will be so into it and we’ll both go on the Daily Show and talk about the administration tormenting us.

This will finally make me a political comedian because I love politics but can never make it funny and I have a hard time talking on stage unless it’s a true-to-life Jen Story. I’ll go on CNN and when Wolf Blitzer tries to spin me, I’ll keep him on track. “Never mind Wolf that I said I wanted to murder people who drive Hummers, in a voicemail message to a friend, that was my private message! The President is breaking the law!”

Howard Dean and Al Gore will call to congratulate me. I’ll be like, “Al, Hon, if you want to run a TV Network, you gots to pay people. Let me help.” And I’ll donate money.

I’ll be the Cindy Sheehan of Impeachment. I’ll sit outside Bush’s White House with some symbolic thing, a tape recorder and claim to be recording him, until he just backs down and resigns.

My whole life will turn upside down but I won’t have to sit in traffic on the way to work for an hour anymore and no one will die, in fact, thousands will live once Bush is out. (Don’t ask me to substantiate.)

And all because of my dream, to shake it up a little bit.


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