Oh Crap Not Again It s an Intervention

Dear Ann Romney,

Start, I repent for not filing this study sooner. I've been quite cocky-absorbed with selling my house, packing, and getting rid of far likewise many possessions in preparation for our big move. Since we don't have "people" to accomplish these tasks, I'yard afraid messages like these get left undone.

Ann, on July 22, 2012, I extended to you lot a formal invitation to this year's **TLC Rendezvous, which had you accepted, would have been dubbed the Rich Bitch Intervention of 2012. Prompted by your bluish-claret blunder "y'all people", I thought information technology in your best interest to spend some time with real women in a place fairly scant of your married man's ilk. Or as Norman Maclean put it, "The world is full of bastards, the number increasing rapidly the farther one gets from Missoula, Montana." Unfortunately, y'all did not RSVP and traveled instead to London and Israel for a foreign fundraiser. And what bastards you surrounded yourself at that fundraiser! (Sheldon Adelson*, whose ass cheeks are nevertheless tattooed with Newt Gingrich's lip prints…gag me with a superfund check. But we'll get to that in a bit.) I thought I'd study on what you missed. Moreover, this follow-up should analyze the types of activities you would encounter should you lot reconsider next year once the entrada is over and your defeated husband is off sunning his assets in the Caymans. I trust this description will pique your interest in future rendezvous.

Had you lot traveled with me to the Big Heaven, you'd have hauled your overnice pooter out of bed early to grab a v:twenty ferry and hit the long stretch from Seattle to Missoula. It's a bulldoze I've done probably a hundred times in my life, so you'd have ridden with an proficient. I was crabby every bit hell that morning time, some might fifty-fifty narrate my mood every bit uber-dyspeptic. In my defense, it seems the nighttime before traveling anywhere I'm always rushing. And, Ann, having no bowed-headed minions tailing me to attend my every whim, similar many "you people" women, I tend to punctuate the packing excitement of any trip with a few "shits" and "fucks." I'k no longer a low-maintenance traveler.

("Okay, scarves and leather purses I'm taking to Taryn and Lucille are packed. Shorts, shirts, underwear…medications, shit. I don't have i of my emergency migraine medications. Fuck. I forgot to go back to the pharmacy today to see if information technology got renewed! What if I get a migraine when I'k at that place?")

And even though my hubby and daughter had puzzle-pieced nicely into the truck my girl's college provisions and my mom'south bedroom gear up to be kept at Taryn's house, I didn't get to bed early plenty to rise with a homo personality. So had yous been with me that morning, Ann, you'd take spent about fifteen frantic minutes racing for the ferry with a coffeeless Beloved Annoy/Ann Coulter spawn. Once I made the ferry and felt the Zen come-here draw of Missoula, that nasty bitch left my body. A skilful play listing, a cup of Starbucks, and Mary fucking Poppins was dorsum and heading for her love Zoo Town.

At present, Ann, I realize you don't take those moments. That serene political-wife grin you've got permanently pasted on your face has to be the result of Botox injections juiced upwardly with some Wellbutrin, a few equus caballus painkillers, and Metamucil chasers. I'one thousand thinking your supplier is no incertitude a Beverly LaHaye acolyte in Concerned Women for America. Whooo howdie! Those girls sure know how to throw a party. And don't they just give out the best goodies in their convention swag bags? Who wouldn't wait like a Fox news anchor on nitrous?

Of grade, at the TLC Rendezvous, we partied a bit as well. Oh, sure. Non like we one time did. But I can withal brand a blender purr with just the correct eye-balled blend of tequila, limeade, triple sec, water ice, and lime. And to try to describe the guacamole that Lucille made this year with mere words would exist like trying to describe the best sex you lot've ever had without using verbs, adjectives, or your hands. (Well, mayhap in your example it's possible…pitiful, I merely don't envision Mittens as a wild homo.)

Ann, you're probably thinking "Just what practise yous talk about at the TLC? What practice yous do?" Well, hither are some chat snippets. While lacking context these samples should apprise you of the level of discourse expected of TLC participants.

"The kids have been great well-nigh bringing me bags of peas for my breasts."

"They (the breasts) look corking."

"Yes, they're so loftier up."

"Gravity…isn't there some anti-gravity pill out there yet?"

"Just I'one thousand not out of the woods. Speaking of the forest…a friend of mine introduced me to a woman who wrote a book about shitting in the forest."

"There's a niche market."

"She needs a model for a blog article she'southward writing. So tomorrow we're going to become meet her and take pictures. No bare ass or anything…"

"Finally, a modeling career! I always knew you'd somewhen go discovered!"

(Howling laughter)

"Oh this I wouldn't miss."

"So she'due south going to photo you in crap mode?"

"No, no, it will all exist very detached and tasteful."

"Well, patently." (More howls.)

"It'south my legs by and large."

"What a waste matter. You merely got new boobs."

Another instance

"So take either of you read 50 Shades of Grey?"

"I heard information technology was shitty writing, then I proudly refused to read it."

"It is shitting writing. Actually shitting writing. (pause) I'm on the second book." (laughter)

"I'm in the centre of the first book. Phew. I'm getting hot just thinking about information technology."

"And I idea I was being so skillful non reading it because it was bad writing."

"Yes, and yous're the slut puppy of the crowd."

"So I need to download information technology?"

"Yeah, that way nobody knows what you're reading. Kindles are like brown paper bags."

"Oh, you should. I hateful, I tin can't believe you hadn't already. You read everything."

"I do sort of have some problems with the idea that a immature adult female is going to try to modify some guy—try to save him from himself. By submitting to him. Like that always works. Oops! Spoiler alert. I don't know. Anyhow…the books are adequately boring with some skilful sex scenes throughout. The second volume at least starts to develop the characters a bit."

"Can you believe how much money she'south making from these?"

"No shit."

"Why didn't nosotros think of that?"

"Well…I've never been in a red room. You lot gotta write what you know."

"Okay…you're selling me."

"But read them for the sex activity. Don't expect literature."

"Okay.."

"It's all about cultural literacy."

Of course we practise talk about serious things. Most breast cancer and again having hair and raising money for the American Cancer Society Cancer Action Network. About holding politicians to their discussion on funding cancer research and preventive screens under Title X funding. We talk virtually daughters, Oh God, our immeasurably funny and inestimable daughters. We talk well-nigh the silly logistics of moving and selling houses and the clutter of "stuff". We talk warily nigh the worry we feel when nosotros run across 1 of united states reenter a relationship that'due south caused hurting. We ponder the conundrum of gay Republicans. Nosotros have in the summer odour of the Bitterroot Valley and talk about all of the memories that combination of smells brings back. I say I never want to encounter my parents' property again on Bear Creek because it wouldn't have them on information technology. Nosotros talk nearly memorabilia as I get through the last boxes of my parents' things I'd saved, Dad's dog tags from WWII, a story most a cowboy my mom wrote in 1954, a bookmark I'd made for my mom that was a horse I'd fatigued. We tell each other how putting your hands in your mother's baby shoes fills your eye just knowing her footling feet were in those tiny shoes. We share that we are worried when ane of us doesn't feel well. We talk about how much we miss one some other when nosotros're apart.

So Ann, while y'all smiled and chatted with Piers Morgan, while you and Manus kowtowed to American Christian Zionists and the pocket-size fraction of American Jews who'd vote Republican only because you schmoozed that correct-wing Likud kingpin Binyamin Netanyahu, nosotros were watching thunderstorms over the Bitterroots. While Mitt crassly tossed out the word "culture" with as much thought to effect as tossing change to doormen at the Male monarch David Hotel, we at TLC were learning from an skillful the best manner to pee outdoors without splattering our shoes. While you and your hubby hid from the press and permit that sleeze ball Sheldon Adelson run his proverbial mitt upwardly and down your political thigh, probable muddy from bribing Chinese officials in Macau, we were sitting forth the Clark Fork listening to the Young Dubliners play in Caras Park on a perfect Missoula summertime evening. (See Juan Cole Ten Most Distasteful Things nearly Romney Trip to Israel)

Would this short experience have acquired y'all to peel off that thousand dollar Reed Krakoff Audubon Silk Shirt and don a Academy of Montana Grizzly t-shirt instead? Probable not. But hopefully information technology would have given you some more than insight into the "you people" who seem to be about as far from you as your husband's business practices are from true Christian ideals.

Ahhh….only now you lot've got Paul Ryan on the ticket. Is your campaign bus aught but mirrors inside? I can only imagine. But that'south for another alphabetic character.

Go along usa "yous people" in your thoughts and prayers equally I'm sure you always really do. And, there's ever adjacent summer. You'll have enough of time on your hands.

Sincerely,

C in the TLC

P.Southward. If you, too, would like to learn how to better 'do the human activity in the woods' with all the confidence of a Papal bear, you really do need to pick upward Kathleen Meyer's book How to Shit in the Woods. Kathleen is funny not only in person, but on paper, and this book helps save our back country while making the reader express joy at every folio plough. Oh how I beloved funny women, and I'thousand so glad I got to meet this 1! If y'all've got somebody heading out on a backpacking trip…this is a great gift!

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Source: https://writingisle2isle.wordpress.com/2012/08/14/ann-romney-what-you-missed-at-your-rich-bitch-intervention/