Dear Barack Obama,
Dude. For real. I love the fact that your name is Obama. I love your wife's pearls. I love that you came to Carrboro not that long ago, because that's about the last place I'd expect any high-powered Mr. Man to visit (not that Carrboro isn't a really cool place, because it is, but you'd think you'd stick to Chapel Hill, its more snooty-boo neighbor).
But seriously. Just because I am a registered independent does NOT mean you get to call me four times in five hours to remind me to vote. Your people, or people claiming to be your people, have now dialed my number with their magical autodialers ELEVEN times since yesterday morning. That Other Candidate has not yet called, which at first hurt my feelings and made me think she didn't care, and now is sort of making me like her more, despite her mannish voice and unfortunate choice in lady politician hair.
So please, please, stop calling. I know I need to vote, and I fully intend to do so as soon as my (deep breath) Republican spouse gets home to relieve me in the childcare duties; this would suggest that perhaps I am aware of my responsibility as a good American citizen to a) choose a candidate and b) cancel out Rob's vote in the future, and perhaps you should call off the damn dogs already. I got a kid what needs a nap, and if your people wake her up again, I'm dropping her off at YOUR house.
Love and frustration,
Posted in: on 5/06/2008 at at 4:19 PM