Dang. I missed a day. Sorry about that. Around 10:30 last night I realized I had not put up a blog. At that point I was into my fourth or fifth Christmas Ale. Much of Saturday was spent preparing and then throwing our annual Potluck Party. This year's theme was Gluttony v. Recession - 2008. Ted brought Hot Sauce Williams. KateSpace brought wonderful rum cake (a much better choice, I might add, than my suggestion of a chocolate volcano). Austin brought schnitzel; Jake -- a homemade pecan pie; Aaron and Jeremy both brought store bought cakes that no one really touched in the face of so much delicious homemade stuff. I made lasagna (a first, for me) and three-layer bean dip (my Potluck standard) and my roommate Sam made delicious vegetarian chili (spicy!), a potato-cheddar casserole, and monkey bread.
It was in the making of said monkey bread that Potluck Fluke #1 occurred. I was working on dressing our dishwasher up to make it look like a drink serving station. Sam was in the process of tearing apart biscuit dough for the monkey bread. I noticed that one of our rocks glasses was dirty so I went over to the sink to rinse it out. Sam remarked that biscuit dough smells like balls. To confirm, she made me take a whiff, which I did and agreed with her. Therein biscuit dough existed a certain sweaty crotch-like odor. Sam went on to say that herrecognition of ball smell did not make her perverse. Everyone know what balls smell like, after all.
I attempted to shake the excess water out of the rocks glass, as I had just ran some water through it. I made a hard downward motion with the glass in my hand. It slipped from my grasp and crashed against the edge of the counter, raining shards all over the floor and my crotch. I yelled for Sam to help -- My balls, my balls. Sam made no remarks of my balls smelling of balls.
Much much later in the evening, I was deep into drunkenness, and someone made an off-color remark of Ralph Nader. Still slightly irritated about the election, I tore off into belligerence, screaming the Mr. Nader should not be the butt of jokes, as he is to thank for seat belts and airbags. Most everyone in the living room got up to leave. KateSpace, at that moment on her way out, left without saying good-bye. Someone compared me to Larry David of Curb Your Enthusiasm. Immediately thereafter I felt shame, not necessarily in my intended message but in its delivery. Whiskey and Christmas Ale and civic apathy fueled my rage.
I apologized profusely as everyone left, and one of my friends said he wished he had voted for Nader. Speaking to my friends since Nov. 4, I have heard the argument a few times that if he or she would have known of the Obama landslide, he or she would have voted Nader. The logic is, ironically, if I'd have known my vote for Obama wouldn't have mattered, I would've voted for Nader. It sounds familiar, but the roles are reversed, right? What bothers me the most is that Nader needed votes more than Obama, who won the states of Ohio, Virginia, North Carolina -- historically very Republican-leaning states. While this is notable and extremely impressive of Mr. Obama, it is my belief that swing votes -- on the fence in regards to Obama v. third party -- would have better served Mr. Nader's campaign, which, admittedly held no chance of winning, but could have secured much-needed campaign funding by reaching the 5% plateau. This simply did not happen. I am not familiar with the final poll numbers, but it does not appear Nader cracked 1%. It was extremely disappointing and increasingly frustrating as I talk to more people who said they would have voted Nader had the known the outcome to begin with. Instead they lumped more support into a landslide already out of control.
1% is laughable, I realize. Of course I realize this. But at the same time, is it necessary to continue to poke fun at the man who has affected so much positive change for this country? Maybe I am overly sensitive, as I had a lot invested into his campaign and I do regret ranting on as I did. In a way, though, I do not regret it. My fit was cathartic, albeit alcohol-inspired. I released a lot of pent up emotion. That part of it felt good.
Once more and finally, I apologize to those I offended/possibly woke up.