Wow, vintage Bill Clinton 'Slick Willie' speech tonight at the democratic convention. The man is so talented at it's just amazing. One of the political talking heads said later that 'Clinton can take arcane points of foreign policy and talk about them conversationally in a way ordinary americans can understand.'

The boy definitely has a gift, and it makes me wish he was still the President only because he could speak so well. Another pundit said he was watching Bill Clinton reading the teleprompted and adlibing as well. Nobody does it better than 'Slick Willie' at energizing a democratic crowd. I'm sure the republicans were just rolling their eyes and throwing things at their television, but nobody, and I mean nobody does it better than Bill Clinton and his political speechmaking.

So the story keeps writing itself in my head this morning, and this part goes before the part below.

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I think I got played. Which is such a trip and a back handed compliment. Like the time my old boyfriend John screamed at me in the middle of a fight, “You are such a Barbie doll!” And I was like wow! He compared to me Barbie. What does that mean?

Does that mean my figure represented Barbie’s impossible idea? Or that I was cute like Barbie and that I was doll-like? Or did he mean I was just some plastic pint-sized idiot without a brain my head? See what I mean when I say it’s a back handed compliment.

Being played is like that. After a certain age in a woman’s life, you don’t really expect to get played anymore by a player. I mean, there’s the matter of the few extra pounds, the constantly harried expression from being frazzled at work all the time, there’s the defensive layers that have been built up over the years from too many dead end relationships and broken marriages, and then there’s gravity transforming what figure you had into some unrecognizable lumpy round shape.

So when a guy plays you, it’s a back handed Barbie compliment. Like did he play me because I’m attractive? Did he play me because despite all my physical and mental grumpiness I’m still attractive? Or did I just get displayed because I looked desperate, like no one’s played me in years, and well what do you when you’re bored a on a plane ride from LAX to Oakland with a woman reading an Anne Rice novel?
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I think this part should go at the beginning of my story anyway, you know setting it up as like this really weird and strange experience, and then maybe it was a dream kind of thing.

So I decided that line I wrote, "From LAX to Oakland" would be a good title for a story, and I keep getting hearing this story in my head which is kind of based on last week's love adventure. This is the start of it, and note how I'm so current because I have a Ricky Williams the Miami Dolphins football player reference in it.

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Maybe he was a dream, the kind of dream that happens right before you wake up, the kind of dream you remember for years afterwards with haunting images that flicker in and out of your mind like bulb about to burn out. It’s annoying but you’re too lazy to get up and change it so you wait till it burns itself out. Except this is the kind of bulb that never burns out.

It’s the romanticism of it all. Men are so seductive that way, because they’re total romantics and some of them have this innate ability to suffuse all of their love affaires with the thick veil of fairy tale love.

'I’m going to be your new best friend', he said as I glanced up from my book and peered at the red-haired stranger at the end of the seat row. I smiled thinking now that’s an interesting line, he must be in sales, well, at least he’s kind of cute.

'Save my place will you?' he said with a smile as he dropped a crumpled USA today on the seat and took off for the end of the plane. I went back to reading. Maybe I won’t like him after all.

I mean why would a cute guy like that be available if there wasn’t something wrong with him, if he wasn’t carrying a load of emotional so heavy he’d make Ricky Williams the football player seem normal.
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I am hooked on that new USA channel show, "The 4400". Someone is my neighborhood spraypainted into the sidewalk the phrase, "The 4400 are coming." So I know I'm not the only fan of the show out there.