So I skipped the democratic convention last night to work out. I kind of regret missing Theresa Heinz Kerry's speech, but then when they showed Howard Dean on the TV at the gym I was glad I was working out. Boy that man scares me! I don't know what I would have done if he was anywhere on the ticket or heaven forbid the democratic presidential nominee. I probably just wouldn't have voted for president, which would have been a first for me since I was 18 years old.

I went to gym again tonight but listened to John Edwards' speech on the radio. Man is Edwards a cutie! He is the cutest vice presidential candidate I've ever seen. He kind of looks like my first love which is such a trip. M was born in Virginia and had a bit of a southern twangy thing going in his voice despite spending most of list life in Bethesday Maryland. Edwards and M have the same face, same hairdo and same boyish smile.

I think John Edwards will one day be a great presidential candidate. Now is not his time, but he's definitely be a contender one day. You got to love his populist speech about how there are two Americas. Paul Krugman from the NY Times has been harping on the "two americas" theme for quite some time as well. Krugman said that what people have to figure out is which America you're a part of, because most middle class americans get it wrong.

I'll go home tomorrow to watch John Kerry speak, and watch the wrap up of the democratic convention. I don't know. I would like to think that the race will close, but I just don't know. My favorite stock picker, who has the best stock picking record in the country, also does quite well at predicting presidential races. Stock picker guy thinks that Bush will win by a landslide. Stock picker guy also picked Shrub to win the presidential republican nomination back in 1995-96, before the Shrubmeister was on anybody's radar. But then stock picker guy's mother is good friend with the Bush's and gets a Chrristmas cards from Laura Bush, so he's kind of got an inside track on stuff.

So I heard this great song on the radio today called "I will breath fire" by this band called Strata. If you like Evanescence, you'll like this band. Strata is from the same label, Wind-up Records.

Strata just released their album yesterday, so the music is like oh so current. On the Strata site, look for the music link to listen to samples of their tunes.

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.